Series: Paige Michaels
Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
“There were a lot of things to do, and my appetite had vanished,” she admitted.
“I can understand that, Angel. Let’s see if I can tempt your appetite. Hop down for Daddy,” he instructed. “We need to put on your skirt.”
Nora looked skeptically at the tutu as she descended. The thick diaper between her legs felt weird and made her uncoordinated. Feeling off-balance, she told him, “I’m going to look ridiculous in that.”
“You will look absolutely adorable. Besides, isn’t it more important how you feel? Sit down on the floor for Daddy and we’ll get you dressed.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
Feeling awkward but determined to give her fantasy a try, Nora sat down on the floor. Mateo kneeled next to her and pulled the onesie over her head. After helping her thread her hands and arms through the sleeves, he guided the soft material down her body. He supported her torso as he eased her back to lie on the carpet. With a few snaps, he secured the onesie between her legs.
“Perfect fit,” he proclaimed as he helped her stand back up.
Holding out the net skirt, he urged, “Step into your tutu, and you can be Daddy’s Little ballerina.”
She steadied herself with a hand on his wide shoulders as she followed his directions. Soon, he pulled the skirt up her legs to settle at her waist. Nora couldn’t help fluffing the skirt out a bit with her hands.
“Turn a circle for Daddy.”
Holding her hands out to her sides, Nora twirled around. Her skirt lifted a bit and seemed to swirl around her. She giggled in delight. This was so much fun. It didn’t matter that she was awkward. Any lack of grace could be blamed on her diaper. It was just fun.
“You are Daddy’s perfect Little girl,” Mateo praised her. “Come on. Let’s take five steps on our tiptoes.”
Nora was delighted to have him playing along with her. “Can we do five high kick steps now?”
“Of course. No laughing at Daddy’s short legs,” he warned with mock severity that made her giggle before they even started.
Alternating back and forth, they shared ideas for fun steps. She loved the playtime. Spending time with him made her feel good.
“Sit on a chair here at the counter,” he suggested, pulling out a high barstool for her.
Nora clambered into place and watched him circle the kitchen island to open the fridge. She immediately started to slide off the chair to help.
“Sit right there. Daddy’s in charge of dinner.”
“How did you know I was getting up?” she asked, watching his back as he continued gathering things from the refrigerator without looking back at her.
“Daddies have eyes in the back of their heads.”
“That’s not true,” she said with a laugh as she continued to move.
“I’m not kidding, Little girl. I want you sitting still in that chair by the time I turn around. Littles in this household do not help cook. There are too many ways they could get hurt.”
Quickly, she scooted fully onto the seat. When he turned around, she smiled at him and propped her chin on the heels of her hands. “I could help.”
“Not happening,” he said with a stern look that made her silently vow not to push her luck.
“Thank you?” she tried.
“That’s my Little girl. So polite. Tell me about your day as I whip up something for dinner. What do you think about quesadillas?”
“I don’t know what that is?”
“Do you like all these things?” he asked, waving a hand over the ingredients he had on the counter.
“Is that hot sauce?” she asked, pointing to the salsa.
“That one is. This one isn’t. We’ll put those on ourselves when the quesadilla is finished. Mild for my Little girl. Hot for Daddy.”
“Then I do,” she nodded.
He pulled out an onion and cut a couple of thin slices before cutting them into small pieces. As he worked, he explained what he was making. “No one likes big chunks of onion. These will cook and mellow quickly. A quesadilla is a combination of queso—”
“Cheese,” she interrupted.
“Exactly! Queso and a tortilla. Quesadilla,” he explained.
“Oh! I’ve seen that on a menu before. That sounds good.”
“I hope you like it. Tell me about your biggest order today, and I’ll share mine.”
“I had a woman come in who teaches knitting classes. She had bamboo knitting needles but bought some beginner metal ones. A lot of people hate the bamboo—the yarn slides a bunch,” she explained.
“That sounds like an easy way to lose some stitches,” he commented.
“Exactly! Who do you know who knits?”
“Mi abuela. My grandmother. She knits sweaters for each of us every year.”
“Nice. You’re lucky.”
“I know.” His twinkling eyes insinuated that he was not referring to a homemade sweater.
“She also bought a skein of yarn for each student and a few things for herself. There were several sacks for us to help her carry to her car when she was finished. I think she’ll be back,” Nora added.