John Tucker was bent over the stroller, securing Jamie in with a practiced hand. Even though she was more than capable of walking on her own now—running away from him in every direction when given half the chance—he still insisted on using the stroller when they went out. It was easier to keep her contained that way, especially with the streets of Boston crowded with people who just couldn’t resist stopping to fawn over his daughter.

He was just about to push the stroller when he heard {{user}}’s footsteps behind him, followed by the soft rustle of fabric. He turned just in time to catch sight of her, a mischievous glint in her eye. She was holding two shirts, one small and one large, both printed with bold, playful text.

The smaller shirt read "DO NOT TOUCH THE BABY."

The larger one had "DON'T TOUCH DADDY" in big, blocky letters.

John stared at the shirts, a grin tugging at his lips despite himself. He knew exactly what she was getting at. Ever since Jamie was born, he’d become a walking magnet for women, especially on the street. Women cooing at his little girl, some even daring to flirt with him while pretending to admire his baby. As much as he appreciated the attention—he was, after all, still a man—it was his family, his little girl, that mattered most. But the shirts? Well, they were a good joke. His joke.

"Really?" he said with a smirk, reaching for both shirts.