Fill Her Up (Daly Way Series, Book Three) by Brynn Paulin Page A

them. Patrick broke the kiss with her to turn to Sim. It didn’t bother her in the least as she watched them experience the wonder and unity of the moment for the first time.
    They didn’t have time to enjoy it. Banging on the front door, along with someone laying on the doorbell, dragged them from their bliss. Was it the friends Patrick had mentioned?
    “Any guesses?” Sim asked.
    “One or three. I just hope they didn’t bring a gun.”
    “A gun?” Verity exclaimed.
    “Your daddy, the vet, has one, doesn’t he? So does your daddy, the cop,” Sim clarified.
    “Thank God, he’s not the law here in Daly,” Patrick muttered.
    “No…” Dragging the blanket with her, she leapt from bed and ran to the window. Looking outside, she met the upward gaze of her mother. She said something Verity couldn’t decipher and a second later the pissed off faces of her two fathers were staring up at her too.
    She stepped back quickly. Crap.
    “How’d you know?” she asked. “I didn’t tell them I was coming.”
    “Small town. News travels fast—”
    “Then they’re going to know you lugged me over here,” she groaned.
    “Which is why I mentioned the gun.” Patrick climbed from bed then grabbed a black terry robe from the closet. After wrapping it around her, he tugged on a pair of jeans. Sim disappeared down the hallway and she guessed he was doing the same.
    “C’mon,” Patrick urged as he shrugged into a shirt but didn’t button it. “They know you’re here and they know you know they know you’re here. Best face the battle.”
    “They teach you that in the military?” she asked as she followed him down the stairs.
    He squeezed her hand. “They taught me lots of things. I’ll show you some later.” Reaching the door ahead of her, he pulled it open. “Folks,” he said.
    “Get out of the way, O’Keefe,” Fletcher Thompson demanded, pushing through the door. Dorian Thompson followed. Her mother, Charity, followed a bit more slowly. Hands laced together as she took in the scene, she looked far from pleased, but something about the irritation in her expression told Verity that her ire was directed at her husbands rather than the situation in which she found her daughter.
    Dorian grabbed the front of Patrick’s shirt. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, O’Keefe?”
    “Daddy, stop!” Verity cried, grabbing Dorian’s arm.
    “Hey, let’s remember homicide is still illegal in Daly,” Sim remarked from the stairs as he surveyed the scene. It was only then that Dorian released Patrick and took a step back. Verity wondered if he was indeed contemplating murder. She stepped between Patrick and the trio who’d just arrived. A mistake. Both her fathers narrowed their eyes at her attire.
    “Simeon,” Fletcher growled. “Get over here. You three can explain what the hell’s happening.”
    Charity snorted. “I think it’s clear what’s happening. We dragged these poor kids from bed.” She looked around.
    When Verity followed her gaze she saw it on the panties that had been discarded on the way to the sauna. Embarrassing! Verity cringed at the heat rushing to her cheeks.
    “Once they got there,” her mother added.
    “With our daughter!” Dorian blasted.
    Charity ignored him and pulled Verity into her arms. “I’m so glad to see you. I missed you,” she murmured. She sniffed, and Verity pulled back to see tears in her mom’s eyes.
    “Patrick…um…sidetracked me.”
    “So we heard.” Fletcher narrowed his eyes at Patrick. “If I ever hear of you manhandling my daughter like that again…”
    “Dad, stop.”
    “She likes it,” Patrick muttered. Fletcher growled, taking a step toward the younger man.
    She jabbed her elbow into Patrick. “Dads…Mom…I’m coming home on Monday.”
    “Nice to see how we rate,” Fletcher muttered.
    She rolled her eyes. They were acting as if they hadn’t seen her in ten years like the guys. Her parents had just been to see her less than three