Daddy’s Pride 2026 (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #6)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Knightly

“I’ve fucked up. Massively.” My wide-eyed neighbor—the one whose name I could never remember—looked a bit like he was ready to burst like an anxiety balloon. “I’m not manly enough to do this and I need help.”

He just kept getting more and more dramatic.

He was lucky he was cute because this was worse than when he thought the mailman hated him.

“Being gay does not make you less ‘manly’ than anyone else.” Normally I wouldn’t assume anyone’s sexuality but his sparkled. Literally. He was wearing a sparkly pink tank top with Taste the Rainbow in glittery neon print.

And I’d seen some of the guys he’d brought home over the past six months.

Yep, no freak-out over the assumption.

“Some types of gay are less manly than others. I don’t fix sinks.

I don’t fix cars. And it turns out that I can’t put together a barbecue grill either.

” Other than projecting panic and frustration, I couldn’t decide how he felt about the different kinds of gay thing.

“Why do they come in so many parts? Why do I have to play with fire to be manly?”

I was missing something.

“Who said you had to be able to grill to be manly?” That wasn’t on the weird lists that anyone had ever screamed at me about.

“My grandmother.”

God.

“Okay. We’re going to have to agree to disagree about that.” She was clearly a bitch. “But how can I help?”

Had he come charging over just to vent? I’d dated a few women who expected me to listen and nod and not try to fix anything, but I wasn’t sure what neighbor guy wanted. We hadn’t talked enough for me to be able to guess unless saying hello by the mailboxes counted as quality time.

His serious expression should’ve been my warning. “You have to teach me how to set fire to meat.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I have to be manly by four o’clock.” He looked down, frowning. “And I might need to change.”

“No. You need to show your family that you’re a confident gay man who can tackle anything no matter what you’re wearing.” Even I knew that and I was the least “gay-seeming” bi man anyone had ever met.

Somehow I’d missed out on all the stereotypical traits and several exes had tried to revoke my rainbow card.

Some more violently than others.

“I can’t tackle fire that comes in a thousand parts.” His twitching was easing off but his frantic pitch hadn’t changed… or the look in his eyes that said he was thinking about tackling me and wringing my neck.

Clearly women and men could both give me that expression.

“They wouldn’t even sell me propane down at the gas station because she said I’d kill myself with it.

” That didn’t make any sense at all, but luckily for me, he didn’t need me to prompt him for an explanation.

“I didn’t realize it was a lighter. Anyone could’ve made that mistake and set the counter on fire. Those are dangerous.”

Okay, maybe I agreed with the lady at the gas station.

Was he why that counter was scorched-looking?

Wait.

That really old cranky woman who worked the morning shift?

“We are going to tackle this one step at a time. Four o’clock is our cutoff. Got it. What do you need from me?” I was starting to think someone to vent to would not be his answer.

Nearly seven hours would give us time to tackle anything.

“Can you set things on fire?” It was the look on his face more than the words coming out of him that stumped me…

and scared me slightly. “Being gay isn’t contagious and I won’t touch you or look at your ass or make you interact with my family as long as you can teach me how to set meat on fire by four. ”

My neighbors just kept getting weirder and weirder.

“I’m not an idiot. I know it’s not contagious and my ass isn’t anything to write home about.” That wasn’t actually the weirdest sentence I said lately, so I didn’t trip over it at all. “We’ll come back to that family part, but to start with, show me the grill.”

Fuck.

“After I finish getting dressed,” I added. I should’ve known better than to lounge around in my pajamas so late in the morning.

“I wasn’t going to say anything and they’re very cute.” He frowned. “Um, cutely masculine?”

“They’re fucking Rainbow Bright.” How my sister had found the fabric I would never figure out. “I’m not going to have the ‘manly’ versus ‘not manly’ debate with you again.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Hmm.

Nope. I wasn’t going to ask about that either.

“Where is the grill?” What should’ve been an easy question stumped him.

“Um… well… in my garage?” His squirming made me wonder what the fuck he’d done, but it was his forcefully bright smile that really set off my trouble radar. “In my garage.”

He’d definitely done something.

“Alright. Give me five minutes to save my work and to get changed.” Contrary to how I looked, I’d actually been working. “You are going to sit down and take some deep breaths. We’ll figure this out as soon as I get over to your place.”

He didn’t look any less guilty but he nodded right away. “Yes, deep breaths. I can do that.”

I had some serious doubts about that, but I didn’t point it out. “Good. Five minutes.”

It took him a few long moments to realize he had to start moving and get out of my doorway, but eventually he stepped back and did his five-minutes reminder over and over as he ran across my front yard.

He was going to kill my grass.

“Five minutes.” Lord. “Most important things first.”

That included making another cup of coffee in a large to-go mug, saving my work, and then putting on clothes that clearly made me look entirely too straight. I wasn’t sure how jeans and a T-shirt could do that to a person but they did.

Especially if Rainbow Bright would make me look straight too.

That was the last time I took a bet from my psychotic sister about anything.

I was hoping he’d have calmed down by the time I got to his place, but he hadn’t. Somehow, I was pretty sure he was even more jittery but that might’ve been because the damned thing was literally all over his garage.

“What the fuck?” I wasn’t going to apologize even if he did wince. “There’s got to be a thousand pieces.”

Every screw, panel, and knob were individually packaged.

“Um, I got a really good deal… from China?” He looked around at the possibly organized chaos. “I didn’t realize they weren’t exaggerating when they said assembly required.”

He’d Temu’d the damned thing.

Deep breath in.

Slow breath out.

Coffee fixed nearly everything.

“First thoughts here, but I promise I’m not trying to take over.” I thought I’d done a great job at handling the situation so far, but he shook his head as his hands came up in a stop motion.

“Oh no. You’re supposed to take over. I’m glitter and panic and a sub. That might be oversharing, though.” He paused, cocking his head. “Sorry? Or feel free to ask me questions if you don’t know what that means, but yeah, take over. I am not good at being in charge.”

Alrighty then.

“You’re going to close the garage and hide this shit when your family comes over.” There was no way to fix this in anything less than a week. “We’re going to bring my grill over and practice on whatever I have thawed in the fridge.”

Hamburgers?

Steak?

I had to have something.

“See?” He waved his hands at me. “Manly. You’ve even got meat at the ready.”

No.

Just a slightly take-charge asshole… who might’ve gone to a few BDSM clubs in his time.

But clearly I looked vanilla too.

“Stop that.” The firm order had him going still and I was pretty sure trying not to sigh. “We’re going to practice using the grill so you have confidence then we’ll clean it up and won’t tell your family.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a reasonable goal or not. He really didn’t look like he could keep any kind of secret at all.

Maybe I could find a bribe?

“While we’re getting that organized, you’re going to talk to me about what you were going to make later or what they’re supposed to be bringing.” Please, God, let him not say ribs or anything ridiculous.

“Meat. I have meat.”

For fuck’s sake.

“The man at the butcher said it was all good grilling options.” Sparkly neighbor guy must’ve seen something on my face because his hands started waving around.

“He said no ribs. And no… no something else bobcat? No. That’s an animal.

It started with a B. He said not to pick that one either even though it looked pretty. ”

Brisket could look pretty?

Nope. I wasn’t going to ask because the answer wouldn’t make any sense and it’d make him feel bad or less “manly” or something negative.

“That’s good to know.” Thank god he’d explained some of this to the butcher. “Let’s go get the grill. I’m going to need your help with that, and then we’re going to look at the meat.”

And maybe the rest of what he planned to feed them because I wasn’t sure who would like a barbecue that was just meat and I wasn’t going to have that conversation with my stressed-out neighbor.

“I can do that.” He bounced up, rocking the ladder he’d been perched on. “I can carry.”

Was I allowed to ask how much caffeine he’d consumed?

How much sleep he’d gotten?

Had he even eaten?

Fuck it all.

“Good.” Not good boy. Nope. “I’m going to leave my coffee here for the moment.”

When he nodded and I found a box that would work as a table for the time being, I started us back toward my house. “Have you had breakfast?”

His guilty side-glance answered that question.

“Here’s a question that you can answer without lying. How many people are coming over?” He perked up, obviously glad about not having to answer the breakfast question.

“Ten.” Then he frowned. “Unless my oldest brother and his family come? Then fifteen. Unless he brings his stepkids? Then I don’t know.”

How many interesting branches did his family tree have?

“We can work with that, and if you have too many leftovers, we’ll look up YouTube videos to get ideas about what to do with them.” Someone who was way too cheerful and had entirely too much time on their hands had to have made a video with suggestions. “Most meat freezes well anyway.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” His anxiety eased down another notch, making me wonder if it was the talking or the moving that was making him less panicked. “I don’t mind leftovers or making food. I can cook. Mostly.”

We’d figure out what that meant later.

“Let’s go through the gate and around back. Then we’ll come back and see what I’ve got.” It seemed like the easiest way even if it would take several trips. “Don’t you have a patio? Right? I think I remember you mentioning it at some point.”

There’d been a slightly convoluted story involved somehow, but I couldn’t remember it at the moment.

“Yes.” My now bouncy neighbor nodded excitedly. “And I have a patio set and everyone else knows to bring chairs. I’ve said that at least ten times and even put it in the family group chat.”

People were morons but he didn’t seem to know that.

“We’re going to pull out some blankets for people to sit on just in case. Like a picnic. Do you have any that would work?” It wasn’t a stupid question but his expression said he thought otherwise.

“I like blankets.” His tone made me think that should’ve been obvious. “That’s a good idea.”

I was just full of them and it seemed like I had the go-ahead to be a bossy pain in the ass too. So as we headed through the side gate, I started my mental list.

Feed Bouncy.

Figure out Bouncy’s real name.

Figure out if he actually had side dishes.

Figure out if he had plates for everyone.

Figure out if he could set meat on fire without setting everything else on fire.

Figure out if Bouncy was single or not.

Yep, it was going to be a long and chaotic day.