All Tied Up - Ali Parker

Chapter 1

Rick

“Son of a—”

I tucked my burning thumb into my mouth to stop myself from swearing in front of my little girl. She was perched on one of the chrome-legged kitchen barstools. Chessie’s big brown eyes widened a bit in anticipation of the curse that never came, and we stared at each other while I nursed my tingling thumb.

“You’re not supposed to touch the pan, Daddy,” Chessie said empathetically. “It gets very hot.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Would you like to prepare the pancakes this morning?”

She flashed me a charming smile. Even though Chessie was only seven, she had the wisdom and language skills of a much older girl. She read at a seventh-grade level and has impressed all her teachers, who always liked to ask me how I’d done it, how I’d raised such a smart little girl with a heart of gold and a never-ending sense of curiosity.

I never had an answer for those questions.

Chessie had been a seeker of knowledge since she was old enough to start putting things in her mouth—which she had done endlessly. My Rolex watches were often covered in baby drool back in those days, the faces distorted and fogged in business meetings without me realizing, becoming a happy reminder about what a joy I had to come home to at the end of the day. Those foggy drool-covered watches had gotten me through many rough workdays.

“You should put some toothpaste on it,” Chessie said with a matter-of-fact nod. Her morning hair, dark brown and thick like mine, was an unruly mess atop her head. Curls shot out in every which way and I smiled to myself as I pinpointed what she reminded me of as she cocked her head to the side.

Medusa. She reminded me of Medusa.

I chuckled.

“What’s funny?” Chessie asked.

“Nothing, kiddo. Don’t worry about my thumb. It’s already stopped hurting.” I went back to pouring pancake batter on the simmering tray and flipped the three I’d already poured previously. They were a perfect golden brown underneath and stained with dark patches of chocolate from the chocolate chips. Chessie had no interest in eating pancakes unless they were overflowing with chocolate, drowning in syrup, and accompanied with bacon and a small side of strawberries for “something fresh” she liked to say.

There was no denying she was my little girl. Growing up in the lap of luxury and wealth had given her access to certain indulgences, most of which were far more impressive than a pancake breakfast on a Thursday morning. Somehow, I’d managed to save her from becoming a spoiled brat. Or more likely, she’d saved me from being the sort of father who threw money at his child to appease and distract them so he could carry on with his life as per usual.

Chessie shifted around on her chair, scooting back against the backrest. She let her hands fall into her lap and tugged at the hem of the lilac-colored dress she wore over a pair of white floral-printed leggings. “How much longer until we leave, Daddy?”

I flipped the most recently poured pancakes and removed the first three from the pan, setting them on a plate and covering them with another to keep them warm. “Not until very late this evening. I have some calls and conference meetings to attend to make sure everything holds up with work while we’re in Hawaii. And Verity has some last-minute shopping to do.”

Chessie sighed. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. You have a lot to do today, too. We’ll be on the plane before you know it.”

She blinked up at me. “What do I have to do today?”

“Well, for starters, you have to enjoy this delicious breakfast. And then Jessica will pick you up for your appointments. Remember?”

Chessie lit up like a Christmas tree, clearly having forgotten how desperately she had begged me to let her get a manicure and pedicure and hair appointment before we left for Honolulu. She claimed she wanted to “look her absolute best” for my big day. Secretly, I thought she’d just conned me into letting her do something that was usually only reserved for special occasions like her birthday or Christmas.

But I’d caved like I always did when it came to my little girl.

Maybe she is a little more spoiled than I think, I thought.

“I forgot about that!” Chessie beamed. “Am I still allowed to get any color I want?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

Chessie shrugged one small shoulder. “I know Verity is picky and doesn’t want anything to ruin her