Chapter 5
The vibration on my nightstand pulled me out of a half-dream. For a second I thought maybe it was Oscar, changing his mind, apologising, begging me to take him back...
Eeek! That was a nightmare best forgotten.
I reached for my phone, eyes still bleary after a restless night worrying about my babies.
And then I saw the name.
Doctor Daddy.
Obviously, I had to save his number under the most perfect moniker ever.
The message was short. Simple. Professional.
Doctor Daddy: Morning Jericho. Just wanted to let you know all four are doing good. Ate breakfast with no issues, did their bathroom business and slept well. Depending on the bloodwork, you'll be able to fetch them later today.
That was it. Nothing flirty like last night. Not even an errant emoji.
So why did my chest feel like it was about to explode from a single text?
I read it again.
And again.
My lips curved into a stupid little smile that I couldn't fight down. The relief hit first. Relief that my babies were doing okay. They were eating. Sleeping. Even pooping was good.
But then came the following emotions. The thrill and excitement he'd thought of texting me first thing in the morning. That he'd taken the time to reassure me before he even got the test results back.
Goodness. I was a mess.
I rolled onto my back and held the phone above me, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Just say thank you, Jericho. Stop being a dweeb. Keep it short and sweet. Don't make it weird!
But the urge to say what I really wanted to say was super overwhelming.
Thank you, Daddy.
Because in one interaction with Colter, he'd shown he was ten times the Daddy that Oscar ever was.
I groaned, tossing the phone down onto the bedspread before I could give in to my urge.
What was I even doing? Colter was a vet. The vet to my pets. So he might be gorgeous, broad-shouldered, gentle-handed and sexy-as-sin. But he was their doctor. There were probably some kind of rule against the vets dating the clients.
Except... He'd given me his personal number. Winked at me. Definitely flirted with me.
I scrubbed my hands over my face. "You're overthinking this, Jericho," I muttered. "Just text the man back before you grow so old it's time for you to retire."
I picked up my phone again and typed it out.
Jericho: Thank you, Colter. Really appreciate the update. Talk to you later.
Then I stared at it.
Deleted it.
Retyped it.
Jericho: Thanks, doctor. You have no idea how much that eases my mind.
Dammit. Still too much.
On a lark I typed out:
Jericho: Thank you, Doctor Daddy.
I was about to delete the words, so I could retype a better version of the first two messages when my alarm sounded. I got such a fright that instead of swiping away the offending wake up call, I sent the text.
I sent the damned text.
I stared down at my screen in mounting horror.
Oh no.
Oh, no no no no no.
Delete.
Unsend.
Dammit, can I even do it on a simple text?
My pulse hammered while I scrambled with the phone, as if sheer panic might reach through the screen and snatch before he saw.
Too late.
The typing bubbles popped up almost instantly.
Doctor Daddy: You're welcome, boy. And what good manners you have.
My breath left me in a sharp squeak. I clutched my pillow to my chest, half tempted to bury my face and scream into it.
He wasn't freaked out? Running for the hills? Blocking my number? He even called me boy.
My thumbs shook as I hovered over the keyboard. What was I supposed to even respond to that? Pretend I'd had an epic autocorrect fail?
Or... bear with me here... should I just beg him to call me boy again? Or even better... Good boy?
Instead, like the absolute coward I apparently was, I locked my phone and threw it across the bed. "Fucking hell, Jericho," I muttered into my hands. "What the heck have you done? Now we have to face him in a few hours.”
***
By the time I pulled into the vet's parking lot, my stomach was a whole knot of nerves.
My hands clutched the steering wheel long after the engine had gone quiet.
Maybe if I sat here long enough, and held on to the wheel tight enough, I could stop time and never have to face Colter and what I'd called him.
I still couldn't believe I'd texted a man I barely knew and called him Daddy.
Even more surprising—and anxiety-inducing—he seemed to like it!
My brain had replayed our pitiful exchange over and over so many times I felt like the actual words had lost all meaning.
What if he didn't like it? What if he pretended to like it all so he could confront me face to face? Maybe punch me into next week...
I forced myself out of the car and into the waiting room. The whoosh of the glass door was followed by the jingle of the bell above it. The receptionist—not the same bright face from last night—smiled brightly, waving me over to the desk to check in.
But I barely heard her greeting or introduction because he was right there!
Colter stepped out from the back, clipboard in one hand, a leash slung casually around his neck. He filled the doorway like one of those thirst-traps online. All broad shoulders, neatly trimmed beard and deep blue eyes that seemed to stare right into my soul.
My knees wobbled. For real.
I swallowed hard, bracing myself for the inevitable fallout from my epic mistake this morning.
"Jericho," he said warmly, striding closer. "Perfect timing. I've just finished going over the test results."
What was this?
No awkward silence. No pointed remarks or calling me a freak.
He actually sounded pleased to see me.
Doctor Daddy really was into what I called him.
"Hi," I croaked, my voice breaking like I was a thirteen-year-old boy again. I cleared my throat and tried again. "H-hi."
Colter's mouth tipped into that half-smile that did dangerous things to my insides.
And cock. "Relax," he said, voice pitched low and calm.
"You look like you're about two seconds away from bolting.
Everything's fine. Your babies are okay.
And—" his eyes glinted, and his grin spread, and he leaned ever so slightly closer, "You're good too. "
My heart stuttered. Heat climbed up my neck. And there was a definite stirring in my pants.
He really, really, really was into what I'd called him.
Oh. My. Goodness!
Colter held the door to the back open for me, and I shuffled past, clutching the strap of my bag like it was a lifeline.
"All right," he said, flipping through the chart on his clipboard as I perched nervously on the little stool. "First things first. You'll be glad to hear all the tests came back clear. No toxins, no signs of poisoning. Everybody's systems look good."
Relief whooshed out of me so hard I nearly slumped right off the seat. "Oh, thank goodness!" I pressed a hand to my chest. "I was so worried. I mean, I knew I was probably overreacting, but—"
"You weren't," Colter interrupted, firm but kind.
He leaned his hip against the counter, those sharp blue eyes cutting into me with quiet intensity.
"You did exactly what you should have. A lot of people would have brushed it off, or waited too long.
You put their health first. That's what makes you a good caregiver. "
The word caregiver made my pulse hiccup. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head, pretending to focus on the pamphlets scattered across the counter.
"Anyway," Colter continued, the corner of his mouth twitching. "There's something else I wanted to talk to you about."
My stomach dropped. Oh no. Here it comes. He was going to bring up the text. Tell me that he might not mind me as a client, but I'd crossed the line.
Instead, he cleared his throat and said, "The clinic's throwing a Christmas fundraiser this weekend. Silent auction, raffle, the works. We're raising money for rescue organisations and shelter programs."
I blinked at him, processing the words, but not comprehending where it was going. "That sounds... really nice?"
"It is." His grin softened into something less confident and more.
.. wry. "It's also, well, my mother's favourite excuse to meddle.
She loves to parade all the eligible bachelors in front of me like it's her life's mission to get me settled down.
If I don't show up to this one with a plus one, she'll have me seated beside some poor accountant and engaged before I can say 'Merry Christmas'. "
A startled laugh burst out of me. "Oh, no."
"Oh yes," he said dryly, eyes glittering. "So, I thought maybe—if you're free—you could save me from matchmaking hell. Be my plus one? You'd get a free dinner, some wine, a couple of awkward icebreakers, and the satisfaction of knowing you rescued me from yet another one of Mom's setups."
My jaw went slack. Of all the scenarios I'd braced myself for in this exam room, this hadn't even come close to making it on the list.
"You want me to come?" I squeaked.
"I do." He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but his gaze lingered on me, steady and warm. "You're clearly brilliant company, Jericho. And..." his smile deepened, softer this time. "I feel like we'd have plenty in common."
My heart launched into a full-on sprint.
And my mouth ran right along with it.
"You do know that my calling you Daddy wasn't just a sex thing right?"
Now why on earth did I go and do that?