DADDY’S GIRL

Daddy strides into the living room, between me and the TV, and switches off the “Buffy” rerun I’m half heartedly watching.

Then he holds up a pack of cigarettes and a romance novel. “I found these in your room, Cherise. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Heart pounding like a techno track, palms wet and mouth dry, I plaster on a brassy, totally fake smile. “You always tell me I should read more?”

I squeak at the end.

Damn it. He’s caught me by surprise, and it’s making me nervous. “Smut isn’t what I had in mind.”

“It’s just a romance novel, Daddy.” I knew the...