Saoirse's Stepfather Daddy (Clover City Littles Book 3) by Honey Meyer

Author:Honey Meyer [Meyer, Honey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-01-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

It was Monday morning, and Arthur had never been so sorry to have a work obligation. Saoirse had been so sweet and cuddly and pliant last night and when she woke up this morning. He wanted it to last forever. Plus he had this foolish and superstitious thought that if he wasn’t right by her side that she’d realize what she was doing—more like realize what she was allowing to be done to her—and regret it.

Although if she really did, he wouldn’t want her to be here. Yes, some of the things he wanted from her could push her boundaries and she might require coaxing or encouragement, but if at the end of the day she said no, that was it. He’d always respected his partners’ limits and he sure as fuck wasn’t going to change that now, especially not with his darling Saoirse.

Now that his princess was dressed in an outfit similar to last night—but with booties that wouldn’t be uncomfortable if she needed to stand—and settled in the nursery with a huge floor puzzle with big pieces she could handle even with her mitts on, Arthur had to get on a call. He wasn’t looking forward to it. But Saoirse didn’t need to know anything about that, so he petted her hair and then bent down to place a kiss on the part at the top of her head.

She’d thought it was silly when he suggested she work on a puzzle but he remembered her liking to do them when they went on vacation. Being an only child whose mother was benignly neglectful at best meant entertaining yourself a lot, and Saoirse was an expert—reading, crossword puzzles or sudoku, logic puzzles, coloring, all those things. But puzzles seemed to be a treat only to be undertaken while on a break longer than a weekend.

He had memories of working on them with her on the verandah of a beach house, by the fire at a ski lodge, in a penthouse in Las Vegas. It was funny that the memories he had of Saoirse on those trips were easy and pleasant and fond, whereas when he recalled the time spent with Renata it was almost always the same: dutifully carrying her bags while she shopped, looking at her over those large menus they always seemed to have at upscale restaurants…and more uncomfortably now, in the bedroom. He’d always felt like he needed to perform, be on. Be someone who wasn’t fully himself.

Renata sparkled, it’s what she did, and she’d dazzled him. And it took a year or so of marriage before he’d been exhausted by it. By her.

But that was long over, and he was caring for Saoirse now. All grown up but still sweet and sly and most pleased by quiet activities that used a different part of her mind than she’d been leaning on.

Which is another reason he’d encouraged her to choose a puzzle from the shelf to keep her occupied while he made this call. To

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