Her Daddy's Sunshine, page 1
HER DADDY’S SUNSHINE
LAYLAH ROBERTS
Laylah Roberts
Her Daddy’s Sunshine
© 2021, Laylah Roberts
Laylah.roberts@gmail.com
laylahroberts.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Cover Design by: Allycat’s Creations
Editing: Celeste Jones
Please Note: This book was originally published as part of the Dirty Daddies Anthology and has not been changed
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Let’s keep in touch!
Books by Laylah Roberts
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
LET’S KEEP IN TOUCH!
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BOOKS BY LAYLAH ROBERTS
Doms of Decadence
Just for You, Sir
Forever Yours, Sir
For the Love of Sir
Sinfully Yours, Sir
Make me, Sir
A Taste of Sir
To Save Sir
Sir’s Redemption
Reveal Me, Sir
Montana Daddies
Daddy Bear
Daddy’s Little Darling
Daddy’s Naughty Darling Novella
Daddy’s Sweet Girl
Daddy’s Lost Love
A Montana Daddies Christmas
Daring Daddy
Warrior Daddy
Daddy’s Angel
Heal Me, Daddy
Daddy in Cowboy Boots
A Little Christmas Cheer
Sheriff Daddy
Her Daddies’ Saving Grace
Rogue Daddy
A Little Winter Wonderland
MC Daddies
Motorcycle Daddy
Hero Daddy
Protector Daddy
Untamed Daddy
Her Daddy’s Jewel
Fierce Daddy
Harem of Daddies
Ruled by her Daddies
Claimed by her Daddies
Stolen by her Daddies (coming 2022)
Haven, Texas Series
Lila’s Loves
Laken’s Surrender
Saving Savannah
Molly’s Man
Saxon’s Soul
Mastered by Malone
How West was Won
Cole’s Mistake
Jardin’s Gamble
Romanced by the Malones
Twice the Malone
Mending A Malone
Men of Orion
Worlds Apart
Cavan Gang
Rectify
Redemption
Redemption Valley
Audra’s Awakening
Old-Fashioned Series
An Old-Fashioned Man
Two Old-Fashioned Men
Her Old-Fashioned Husband
Her Old-Fashioned Boss
His Old-Fashioned Love
An Old-Fashioned Christmas
Bad Boys of Wildeside
Wilde
Sinclair
Luke
1
“Who the hell are you?”
Lucie smiled, ignoring the grouchy greeting. “Hi, I’m Lucie Starr.”
The enormous man standing in the doorway of the cabin stared down at her from his intimidating height. At only five foot two, she was used to everyone being taller than her, but this man had to have at least a foot on her.
Not everyone was a morning person, although she had waited until after nine to pop over.
That was a reasonable hour, right? But maybe not to the dark-haired man scowling down at her. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. With his plaid shirt and long beard, he was totally pulling off the sexy lumberjack look.
She nearly fanned herself.
That he was scowling at her like she was dog poo he’d stepped in should have turned her off.
Should have.
However, Lucie wasn’t deterred by his frown or surly tone.
“I’m your neighbor,” she said when he didn’t say anything else. She resisted the urge to wipe her face. She’d checked before leaving the house and she was pretty sure she was presentable. Even her sweater was on the right way, which was a bonus for her.
“I live just over at that house.” Their houses were nestled back from the road amongst the trees, but you could clearly see her house peeking through the trees.
He grunted.
Okay, then.
She held up the plate of snickerdoodles. “I made these for you. A welcome to the neighborhood. I mean, I’m not sure you can call it a neighborhood when there are only five houses along this road. We live in the middle of nowhere, don’t we? I kind of like it, though. Nice and quiet.”
“It was.”
Was he implying that it wasn’t quiet because of her? Her smile drooped slightly. Okay, he could be grouchy, but there wasn’t any need to be mean.
“Well, sorry to disturb you. Just wanted to say hi and bring you these.” She held them out.
He kept his arms crossed. The rejection made the back of her throat burn.
Kill them with kindness, Lucie.
She still remembered her gran telling her that when some of the girls at school had been picking on her because she’d been a late developer.
So all she did was widen her smile and set the plate down on his porch. She guessed she wasn’t going to be invited inside for tea and cookies.
Damn, she missed Charlotte, the woman who had lived in the cabin before him. She’d been close to Lucie’s age, funny and friendly. But she’d returned home to London to look after her mother, who was ill.
“Bye then. Be seeing you.” She waved and took off, moving her short legs as fast as they’d go.
When she got home, Princess Pickles looked up from where she was sleeping on the sofa. A loud meow informed Lucie that she was very annoyed to be woken her from her thirteen-hour catnap.
“Princess Pickles, the new neighbor is . . .” Grumpy, sexy, a little bit mean. All of those would apply. “Interesting.”
Yeah. Interesting was about right. Shaking her head, she pushed him out of her mind as she sat at the dining table. Time to get back work. There were bills to pay, and she was behind on her work after helping Charlotte pack up her stuff. Not that she was complaining. Lucie would always drop everything in order to help a friend. Heck, even someone she didn’t like much.
Now, whether she’d help the grouchy lumberjack next door, well, that was debatable.
Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she would. That’s what neighbors did. Even if their neighbors weren’t particularly nice.
Later that afternoon, when she returned from checking the mail, she found a full plate of snickerdoodles on her porch.
Kill them with kindness, Lucie.
Or, failing that, maybe just kill them.
Lucie turned the key again.
Nothing.
Tears welled. She wouldn’t cry. What would crying get her? Nothing at all. Crying wouldn’t make the truck start. Crying wouldn’t pay her electric bill or buy her food or bring her a magic flying carpet.
Man, that would be cool if it could, though.
Letting out a deep breath, she calmed herself.
Think, Lucie. Think.
Sure, Queenie was about twenty years old, had originally been her grandpa’s, and likely should have been retired five years ago. But she was usually always reliable.
Well, mostly, she was reliable.
Last time Queenie had been at the mechanic’s, he’d told her that the old truck was going to need some work that would likely cost more than it was worth. But Lucie’s bank account wasn’t quite up to that challenge yet. So, currently, she was using the power of hope and prayer to ensure that Queenie kept running.
It had been working pretty well, actually. Until now.
“Come on, Queenie. We have to take this jewelry into town. I just need you to work for one more day. Well, another week or month would be even better. How about six months, then I’ll get you fixed? Just please work.”
If she didn’t get some new jewelry to Steph soon, the other woman would stop stocking her stuff. Then she’d be totally screwed. She’d have to get a job at the diner or gas station, which were the only two things she was qualified for.
Getting out of the truck, she raised the hood and stared down at the motor in bafflement. Ask her to make a necklace or a pair of earrings. She was your girl. Or to bake twelve dozen chocolate chip cookies, no worries.
But try to figure out what was wrong with her truck? Never going to happen.
Lucie chewed at her lip, trying to think. She could ask one of her friends to come and get her, but her phone wasn’t working.
With a sigh, she glanced over at her new neig
Running inside, she grabbed a plate and filled it with some chocolate chip cookies that she’d packed into her truck to take into town for the school fair. Sure, she didn’t have any kids at school, but this was a small community and everyone helped out when they could.
Unfortunately, buying the baking ingredients had wiped out her bank account.
Which was also why her phone was temporarily incapacitated. That happened when you didn’t pay the bill. But things would work out, right?
She made her way over to her new neighbor’s place, aware that she still didn’t know his name, and knocked on his door. Hopefully, he was in a better mood today. Maybe he’d just been grumpy after moving in. He’d probably been tired. Yeah, that was it. She wished she’d been home to help him.
There was no answer inside.
Drat.
She hadn’t seen him during these last few days, and she’d been looking.
She knocked again. The door suddenly swung open.
“What?”
And there he was, glaring down at her. His hair was all up on end and there were crinkles on his face. And he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
Right there, in her face, was a tanned, slightly hairy, muscular chest.
How did a person get a six-pack like that? She was just happy if she could do up the top button on her jeans.
A throat clearing made her aware that she was staring. Her cheeks warmed.
Whoops.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you up?” It wasn’t that early, right? She glanced down at her watch. Whoops, not quite eight yet. She brightened her smile and held up the plate in her hands. “Chocolate chip cookies?”
He grunted and glared down at the chocolate chip cookies as though they had offended him.
Don’t take it to heart, Lucie. Everyone loves your chocolate chip cookies. He’s just not a morning person.
“I made a lot for the school fair tomorrow and I thought I’d bring you some over.”
She was all too aware that he hadn’t spoken yet. And he was giving her a look that would make cockroaches run for cover. Swallowing loudly, she set the plate of chocolate chip cookies on the floor of the porch.
“Um, I’m your neighbor, Lucie? I’m not sure if you remember me from the other day? I brought you snickerdoodles?”
The ones you returned.
Still nothing. Awesome.
“And I left some banana bread on your porch the day before yesterday? I made too much. Like usual.”
Still nothing.
“So, um, I was kind of wondering if I could use your phone? See, my truck won’t start, and I’ve got to get into town. I’m not sure what’s wrong with it, I’m not very good with mechanical stuff.” She let out a small laugh.
Still nothing.
Was he a robot?
“I just need to call a friend to come help me. I promise I won’t make any long-distance calls to London.”
Yep. A big old nothing.
“I have a friend in London, but we usually talk over the internet. However, that’s not working either, or I could have used that to contact my friend. Not the one in London. The one who might be able to come and help me now.”
Lucie. Stop. Babbling.
Sure, she liked to talk, but she didn’t usually chatter on about nothing at all.
This was just embarrassing.
Then he did something that made her insides want to shrivel up.
He sighed. A long sigh. One that indicated a great deal of annoyance.
Ouch.
Lucie tried not to react. No need to be hurt. It was early. She was talking. A lot. And he seemed to hoard words like they were gold.
They were just opposites.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked in a low voice that, for some reason, she found sexy as hell.
“My phone?” she squeaked out. “Or the internet? Um, well . . .” She really didn’t want to tell him the reason neither of them was working. He was already looking at her like he wished he could just push a button and she’d magically disappear.
“The truck.” A line appeared between his eyebrows as he stared down at her.
The truck? Oh, right.
“It won’t start.” There, she was on good ground with that answer.
“Why?”
Well, if she knew why, then she would have fixed it, wouldn’t she? But Lucie didn’t say that. It wasn’t polite.
“I don’t know.”
More silence.
“Am I able to use your phone?”
He shook his head, then closed the door. Okay, that was extra rude.
Then the door re-opened, and he stepped out. He’d pulled on another plaid shirt and some boots. He shut the door behind him. Was he leaving?
Then he gestured towards her place.
Oh! He was coming to look at her truck? She practically ran down the steps, nearly tripping in her haste. A huge hand locked around her upper arm, stopping her from falling on her face.
She threw him a cheerful smile. “Thanks! You’d think I just got feet for Christmas!”
She laughed.
He did not.
All righty then. She moved alongside him as they strode towards her house. His legs covered the ground so quickly that she was practically jogging. Her breathing quickened.
Yikes. She might need to start doing some cardio.
“Thanks so much for doing this,” she told him. “You really didn’t have to. I could have called a friend. You know, if I could have borrowed your phone.”
Still nothing.
She let out a small sigh, staring at him surreptitiously. How old was he? There were a few grays hidden amongst his dark hair, even more in his beard. He didn’t have a lot of wrinkles. Just a couple of faint lines in his forehead and some crow’s feet. Definitely older than her own twenty-eight years.
They reached her truck, and she patted the side. “This is Queenie. She’s old but usually pretty reliable.”
“Reliable?” he muttered, peering around. “Looks like it should have been sent to the junkyard years ago.”
She hugged the truck. “Don’t listen to him, Queenie, I’d never send you to the junkyard.”
He stared at her like he couldn’t believe she’d done that. But she didn’t care. She was sure other people hugged their vehicles and talked to them like they were sentient.
Maybe.
He shook his head in response. Then he opened the hood of the truck and she moved around beside him, staring down at the engine, which looked like it always did. What was he thinking? Did he know how to fix it?
“Any idea what’s wrong with it?” she whispered.
He turned his head and stared down at her. “No.”
Right then.
“Well, thanks for looking. Is it a ‘no’ on using your phone?”
He moved to the driver’s side door and opened it. Then he stared. And stared some more. Slowly, he raised his head to look over at her. “There’s a hole in the footwell.”
“Oh yeah, just a small one.”
Those bright blue eyes stared at her. Then he shook his head. “You can’t drive this.”
“Not at the moment, no. But I’m sure she can be fixed.” If only she had the money to pay the bill.
“You can’t drive a truck with a hole in the footwell,” he stated slowly.
“It’s fine. It’s been that way for a while. I just have to make sure not to put any weight around the hole so it doesn’t get any bigger. It makes it a bit cold in winter, but I just dress up warm. It’s fine.”
His eyes seemed to grow bigger and bigger. Then he looked around as though searching for something.
“Have you lost something?” she asked, wondering if something had fallen out of his pocket.
“You have.”
“I have? What?”
“Common sense.”
Ouch. Burn. She sucked in a breath. “That’s not very nice.”
He grunted. “You can’t drive this truck. It should be wrecked.”
“My truck is fine,” she insisted. Seriously. All she’d wanted was to use his phone. She didn’t ask him to look at Queenie. And there was no need to insult the old girl, or her either. “If you don’t know what’s wrong with it, that’s fine. But could I please use your phone?”
