Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Connor’s nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge.
Hell, he probably looked like one too… big, pissed off, and seconds away from plowing straight through whatever stood in his path.
Two seconds in her presence, and his control was already shot to hell.
It was impressive considering he’d spent eleven months rebuilding that control brick by brick.
When he’d seen her sitting in the middle of the road, his heart had almost stopped.
He’d seen the skid marks arched over both sides of the road and chalked it up to idiot teenagers out for a joyride.
Darling had plenty of those this time of year, tourists and locals alike thinking snow meant permission to drive like lunatics.
Rounding the curve and spotting Bliss’s car angled off the road, he’d had a moment of relief. She wasn’t hurt. At least she was upright, breathing, and not crumpled somewhere in a snowbank.
That relief had morphed into an anger unlike any he’d ever experienced—which was saying a lot considering her antics in Nevada—when he saw her seated on the pavement, cradling something in her arms. Who in their right mind thought the middle of a highway was a perfectly reasonable place to sit and contemplate life?
For a split second, he’d thought she held one of her girls. For some reason, cold fear, the kind that turned his blood to ice, shot through him at that possibility. Of course, that was no more than any compassionate person would feel.
It didn’t evidence any feeling for those particular children. At least, that’s what he told himself, even though his gut knew better and wasn’t shy about pointing it out.
She hadn’t learned one thing from everything they’d been through earlier that year. You’d think being kidnapped by the Society and sold to a Russian crime boss in marriage would have taught her something at least. But not Bliss. She hadn’t learned a damn thing.
Her personal safety had been the least of her concerns then, and that obviously hadn’t changed. She was still as reckless as the wind and twice as stubborn.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t being reasonable. But she was sitting in the middle of a well-traveled road, and as best he could tell, didn’t even notice when he pulled off the road behind her car. She damn sure didn’t glance back when his truck door slammed.
And then, to pretend like he was some casual acquaintance from school?
Oh, hell no. That wasn’t happening. Not in this lifetime.
“It’s been a while?” His voice was deep and dangerous. And all stern Daddy. Just like it should be. It was the tone that made grown Littles snap to attention and rethink every decision that had led them to their current dilemma.
He sounded like a dangerous Daddy because that’s exactly what he was. She stood there, as beautiful as he remembered, her looks alone making him want to snatch her up and kiss her, and all she had to say was it’s been a while? Like the last eleven months had been nothing more than a coffee break.
The only thing saving her well-rounded bottom right now was the way she pressed her thighs together and did her best not to squirm. Evidently, it hadn’t been that long of a while since he’d been on her mind. No one reacted that way to someone they’d forgotten.
And why did that soothe him? Why did the sight of her bracing for discipline settle something ugly and restless inside his chest? It didn’t.
You don’t care if she’s been thinking of you because you aren’t going there, remember? Not again. Not with her.
Regaining a modicum of control, he tried again, albeit through gritted teeth.
“I asked you a question, young lady. Why are you sitting in the middle of the road in the freezing cold? And where is your coat?” He swore on everything holy, if she said she left it at home, he might actually lose the last grip he had on his patience.
She peered down at the ridiculous sweater she wore like she hadn’t seen it before. Okay, she looked adorable in the oversized sweater with—were those jingle bells sewn to the antlers of that moose? Who the hell sewed bells on a moose?
Damn it. She was getting him off the point. The last thing he needed right now was her looking cute. Cute was distracting, and he was not going to be distracted.
Stalking to her, he took her by the arm and all but dragged her to the snow- covered grass on the far side of her car. His grip was firm and uncompromising, the way it had always been when she pushed him too far. But he made sure it wasn’t too tight.
Staring down at her feet, he ground out, “Where are your snow boots?”
She was wearing a pair of thin, useless green canvas sneakers. Already, the moisture of the snow soaked through the fabric. They were shoes that belonged on a summer sidewalk, not a winter road.
“Oh, I don’t have any yet.”
“You were on a Society compound in western Wyoming, and you don’t have snowboots?” The words came out sharper than intended, but he was past caring.
She scrunched her face as if he were the one not making sense. “Well, I had boots in Wyoming. But it wasn’t snowing when I left, so I forgot to bring them.”
Why did that make sense to him? Because that was Bliss Logic 101.
She needed someone who would look after her. Someone who would think ahead and plan for all the possibilities.
Someone like me.
No. Not him.
Anyone could print out a packing list from the internet. She was a mother now. She had to be able to think of these things. Three babies depended on her now.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out through his nose. Slow. Controlled. The way he’d learned to breathe years ago.
When he opened his eyes, she blinded him with one of what he’d come to think of as her stadium light smiles. A smile bright enough to light up a football field and just as impossible to ignore.
Knowing he shouldn’t, he asked it anyway. “What are you smiling at?”
“You. You still do that thing.”
“What thing?”
“You know. That thing where you breathe in all the air in the room through your nose. You did that in Vegas all the time.”
He’d thought he was losing control again. The truth was, he’d never really had it in the first place. Not where Bliss was concerned.
“It tends to happen a lot more when I’m around you. Now stop avoiding my question.” When her lips parted, he held up his hand. “Do not ask me what question. You know perfectly well what question. Why were you sitting in the road, Trouble?”
At his use of her nickname, she flinched. Just the slightest twitch, but he caught it. He caught himself before he apologized. If she didn’t want to be called trouble, she shouldn’t cause it.
After a beat, she shrugged, making the bells on her shirt jingle. She sucked in a breath, grinning and bopping her shoulders up and down. The jingle bells did their job surprisingly well. They were like bright little chimes dancing through the cold air.
If they ended up together, he’d put bells on all her clothes. That way, he’d always know where she was. Always know when she was sneaking somewhere she shouldn’t.
Another growl rumbled in his throat. What did she do to him? He only made that sound around her.
“Trouble.” He knew he’d hit the perfect tone when she stepped back and put her hands behind her to cover her bottom.
Smart girl. At least some of her instincts were still intact.
Matching rose flags waved across her cheeks. She huffed out a sigh worthy of a teenager. “Fine. You want to know why I was sitting there? I was talking to Guacamole.”
His mind blinked, just like the television he’d watched at his grandmother’s house as a kid used to do.
That old boxy set that used to flicker and pop when the signal went weird.
He tried to decipher her code, but he was out of practice.
Eleven months was a long time, and they’d only had a day and a half together.
Connor had been a Daddy for a long time. His Littles were always well-behaved and submissive. He knew from experience how submissive Bliss was, and his hand ached to work on the well-behaved part. All it would take was a firm hand, a few well-placed swats, and she’d remember exactly how to behave.
His brain rejected that notion as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He didn’t want to change her. She was fun and joyful, and if he was honest, a challenge he could see himself never getting tired of. The kind of challenge that kept a man alive.
But that couldn’t happen now. He was a great Daddy, but he was not father material.
Focusing back on the matter at hand, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you mean you were talking to guacamole?”
She looked at him with sympathy, as if he were the dimmest bulb in the chandelier. Judging by her expression, it was flickering and about to burn out entirely.
“Guacamole, Dad—um, I mean, Connor. My car… It’s green. Avocado-green, like guacamole. So I named her Guacamole. Get it?”
Her Little stared up at him, eyes eager for him to tell her how clever her joke was.
He’d realized in Vegas that she pretty much lived in her Little headspace.
How did that work with three babies? Could three brand new lives depend on someone who still carried so much childlike brightness inside her?
Part of him was thrilled to see she hadn’t lost her innocence and joy.
Most of him worried about what would happen to her and those babies without someone around to care for all four of them.
Because, whether he wanted to admit it or not, the thought of them alone in the world sat in his chest like a stone.