Silence followed, and it lasted so long that Clay worried they’d lost their connection. “You there, Daisy?” he prompted.
“She drove your truck?” Daisy asked nervously.
“That’s right. The train is out of the way, and she would have had to take a bus once she arrived. I wouldn’t have even considered her taking the train. It made much more sense for her to go by car.”
“But… Abby doesn’t know how to drive. She never even got a permit.”
It took a long time for those words to sink in, and even when they did, Clay didn’t fully believe what he’d been told. “What?” he bellowed into the phone. “What do you mean she doesn’t know how to drive?”
“Just that,” Daisy responded. “No one ever taught her, and she didn’t want to spend money on driver’s education courses. I think one of her old boyfriends showed her the basics, but…”
“For Christ’s sake.” Clay’s heart pounded. Had she been in an accident? Was that why she wasn’t answering her phone? Why the hell hadn’t she told him she couldn’t drive?
Daisy answered his last unspoken question. “I know she’s really embarrassed about not having a license, when everyone else her age does.”
“Right,” Clay said, still trying to wrap his head around the fact she’d made no mention of this to him. “I’m going to go look for her. I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.”
“Thank you, Clay.” Her voice broke a little. She was clearly as scared as he was about the situation, but he couldn’t focus on Daisy’s fear or his own. What he needed to do was find Abby.
He ended the conversation with Daisy and called Shane to explain the situation and ask to borrow his truck. Shane already thought badly of Abby, and her latest stunt wouldn’t do anything to improve his opinion of her. But Clay couldn’t have cared less about that in the moment. The worst possible scenarios were flashing through his mind. The one that kept repeating itself was her crashing and ending up in a coma in a hospital bed, for that was the only situation he could come up with that explained why she wasn’t answering her phone.
He drove Shane’s truck along the highway, keeping a lookout for any signs of a collision. While driving he called hospitals within the vicinity, but he couldn’t get any information. When his phone rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin because the volume was set so high. He actually looked at the caller ID, like Shane always told him he should do, but the number was foreign to him.
“Hello?” he answered, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.
“Hello, Mr. Ashton?” A young male voice came through the receiver.
“Yes,” Clay said.
“I’m calling to inform you that your vehicle has been impounded at Fred’s Garage in Dallas. It’ll be one hundred sixty dollars to remove it from impound.”
Clay’s pulse raced. “Where’s the driver of the car? How did it get impounded?”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
A surge of impatience caused him to bark his next question. “Well, can you find out, please?”
“Uh, okay, one second.”
Clay’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel. He was on hold for much longer than a second. Pressing on the accelerator, he increased his speed toward Dallas and prayed that the man came back with good news.
“Mr. Ashton?”
“Yes,” Clay said immediately.
“My boss said that your vehicle was involved in a collision and we were called to tow it. I don’t have any information about the driver.”
Hearing those words caused the nightmare to suddenly become real. He was trying to contain his panic and figure out what to do next when his phone beeped. He looked at the face of the phone and saw another unrecognizable number. He clicked to answer it.
“Hello?”
The very faint, trembling voice of Abby spoke back at him. “Clay?”
All the air whooshed out of his lungs. She was alive, and in that moment, that was all that mattered to him.
“Where are you, Abby?”
Chapter Six
Abby struggled not to burst into tears. The sound of Clay’s voice on the phone brought to her mind a random memory from when he was in town and he’d called to see if she wanted anything from the store. He was thoughtful like that. He was the first man ever to make her feel like she was worth something, and this was how she’d repaid him.
“I, I’m in the county police station,” she stammered out.
“Are you hurt?” came the clipped response, void of any emotion.
“N-no.”
“And is anyone else hurt?”
“No, but Clay… I crashed your truck. I don’t have a driver’s license. I’m so—”
“Be quiet, Abby. Your sister told me. I’m on my way.” A click ended the conversation.
She remained frozen for a moment, the station’s phone still clamped against her ear. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t indulge in allowing them to spill. Clay had never spoken to her like that before. He sounded so cold, so very angry, and she didn’t blame him. She was sure he was done with her. He would come to the police station, learn what he needed to know about the damage done to his truck, and then leave.
This wasn’t a minor infraction. She was going to be charged with a misdemeanor, and Clay was going to be responsible for paying the damages to his truck because his insurance wouldn’t pay. The officer who’d arrived on the scene of the crash had explained that to her, much to her horror. It didn’t matter that Clay was innocent and everything was her fault. The insurance would only care that he’d allowed an unlicensed driver behind the wheel.
She didn’t care much about the misdemeanor that would go on her record. It was in keeping with her life’s story. But she felt devastated that her actions would hurt Clay. She also believed that this misdeed was solidly outside the realm of their Daddy/little girl relationship, where the punishments thus far had been for small things, mostly having to do with how she treated herself. Even though the punishments had felt real, always in the back of her mind was the general feeling that they were engaged in a sexual game of sorts. But this was different.
She hung the handset on the base that looked like it was from the ‘80s and thanked the officer for allowing her to use it. In all the mayhem after the accident, she’d left the cell phone Clay had purchased for her in his damaged truck.
She wished she could press the rewind button and return to when Clay had suggested she drive to Dallas. If only she had told him the truth that she didn’t have a license, none of this would have happened. Knowing Clay, he would have taken the news in his typical pragmatic style. He wouldn’t have laughed at her. He would have taught her to drive and he would have helped her enroll in a driving course.
She was so damn stupid! She’d found someone who had accepted her, and she hadn’t recognized it for the gift that it was until it was too late. This was why she never got her hopes up. When things didn’t work out, having high hopes meant a long fall to the ground. That’s what she was doing… falling, falling… No one would save her this time. She trudged to the waiting room, sniffling, barely able to contain her sobs, and sat down facing the doors to the exit. She silently berated herself the entire time she waited for Clay.
She saw him pull up in Shane’s truck, much sooner than she had expected. Her heart gave a small, involuntary leap of joy, as it did every time she saw him, but it was quickly replaced by terror. She wasn’t afraid in the normal sense. She was terrified because walking toward her was the man who, with just a few words, could shatter her heart into a million pieces. And she was positive he would. He had proven himself a patient, forgiving man, but this was on a whole new level.
Their eyes locked as he walked in the door and Abby stood from the green vinyl chair. She wanted to run into his arms, but she was sure any displays of affection would immediately be rejected. She didn’t want to cry—she didn’t have the right to cry over something she’d done to herself—bu
t she couldn’t help it. Tears flowed down her cheeks as he approached her. The look on his face was one of sheer anger. Not a trace of understanding could be seen on his hard features.
“You’re not hurt at all?” he asked, his voice calm and devoid of the anger she read on his face.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t going very fast. I ran into a tree.”
Clay drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he looked at her again, he shook his head. “Where’s your suitcase?”
She pointed to where she’d placed it under the chair behind her.
“Are you free to leave now, or do you have paperwork?” he asked, as he bent to retrieve her case.
“I can leave. They’ll send me a summons. Clay, I’m so sorry—”
“Save it for later,” he interrupted. “Let’s go.”
He strode toward the exit, and she followed him, jogging to keep up with his long strides. He held the door for her, always the gentleman. He then opened the passenger side door, helped her up to her seat, and even buckled her in, a gesture that usually made her feel safe and cared for. This time it felt horrible, since it served as a reminder of everything she was going to lose. She was surprised he was even taking her back to the ranch. She thought he would only meet her at the station to find out about his truck and then take off without her, but he hadn’t asked for a single detail about his truck.
On the drive Clay focused on the road ahead and turned up the radio to play a Hank Williams song loudly, likely so he wouldn’t have to talk to her. When Abby peeked over at him, she saw a repeated tic in his jaw, indicating he was gritting his teeth, something he did when he concentrated or was angry. There was no doubt about which he was in that moment.
“I’ll pay you for the damage I did to your truck,” she said tearfully. “I’ll give you what I’ve saved for Daisy and I’ll find a job so I can pay you the rest.”
Clay punched the knob of the radio, silencing the music. “I thought you had a job.”
“Yes, I can probably get my job at Dairy Queen back.”
He turned his head and gave her an annoyed look. “I meant at my house. Cooking, housekeeping, remember?”
Was he taunting her? No, that wasn’t like him. Emerging in her mind was a small sliver of hope that perhaps he would forgive her and allow her to stay. Her lower lip trembled and her nose burned. “You don’t want me to stay, do you?”
Clay’s eyes narrowed on the road ahead. Abby wondered if he’d even heard her until he turned on his indicator, smoothly pulled over to the side of the road, and put the truck in park with the engine still running. “What did you just ask me?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
She swiped at her tears. “Do you want me to keep working for you? I mean, I know you probably don’t want to keep doing… the other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“The daddy thing!” she burst out. Why was he making her spell it out for him? Why couldn’t he just tell her he was done with her, get it over with like ripping off a Band-Aid? She buried her head in her hands.
“Abigail, look at me,” he ordered.
She shook her head and kept her face covered with her hands. She heard his seatbelt unlock, and the sound of metal sliding against metal told her he’d just moved back his seat. Next her seatbelt clicked and Clay was hauling her across the center directly onto his lap. She still refused to look at him and kept her hands over her face, though his actions surprised her. When he wrapped his arms around her, she could hardly believe it was happening.
“Baby, I’m mad at you. That doesn’t mean I want you to leave or that I want to stop being your daddy. Quite the opposite. Now’s when you probably need a lesson from me the most.”
She dared to peek at him through her fingers to make sure he was serious. “Really?” she asked in a small voice.
“Of course, darlin’. Don’t you know how much I care about you? That’s the only reason I’m angry.”
“Oh, Clay,” she sobbed, and buried her head on his shoulder. “I thought this would be different. This time I hurt you, not me. I ruined your car. I just thought it was different.”
“Well, it is different, but not for the reason you think,” he said, his voice growing stern. “What you did was dangerous, and you’re going to get a misdemeanor on your record. I don’t care about my truck, Abigail. I care about keeping you safe, and I care about you telling me the truth. You had plenty of opportunities before driving away to come clean, but your pride got in the way once again. Your pride didn’t let you be honest with me, did it?”
“No,” she said in a small voice, feeling both cherished and chastised at the same time.
“No, what?” he prompted in his sternest daddy tone. He took her shoulders and pried her away so that he could look at her.
“No, Daddy,” she said meekly, feeling younger by the second.
“That’s right. I never wanted to punish you with Daddy’s belt, but your behavior calls for a very strict lesson, don’t you think?”
Her breath caught in her throat. She looked down at the leather in his belt loops.
Clay caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced her to look into his eyes. “Are you scared of my belt?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said in a whisper. “I’m afraid it will really hurt my bottom, more than your hand.”
“It will. But don’t you think you’ve earned a strapping on your bottom?”
She sniffled and nodded. “Yes, I’ve definitely earned it.”
“All right, get back in your seat.”
She didn’t want to leave his lap, so she kissed him. She needed to feel his affection, to receive physical affirmation of all his words. A low growl resonated in his throat, and he latched on to her lips as his two hands held her face and the tips of his fingers entwined in her hair. He kissed her passionately, possessively, in the way that always made her know she belonged to him.
When he released her lips, he whispered, “You scared the hell out of me, Abby.”
“I’m so sorry, Clay.” She felt terrible that she had caused him pain even for a minute. He deserved only good things from her, and she was determined never to worry him again. She climbed back to her seat and buckled her seatbelt as Clay moved his seat forward.
He turned the radio back on to a low volume. “So tell me what happened. How’d you crash?”
She stared out the window, too embarrassed to look at him while she explained. “There was a deer in the road. I swerved so I wouldn’t hit it and then ran into a tree. It all happened so fast.”
Clay turned on his indicator and accelerated into the highway. “I see. It’s usually safer to brake than to swerve when you come across something in the road. That’s something you learn about in driver’s ed.”
“Yeah,” she said, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Abby had never felt so guilty in her life, and she knew she deserved the very serious punishment that lurked in her near future. She wondered if he would punish her tonight or wait until tomorrow. Her bottom clenched every time she thought about it.
Abby liked being Daddy’s little girl, and she liked knowing that Daddy Clay spanked her. But she did not like getting spanked. Not one little bit. Everything surrounding it—the lecturing, the helplessness, the feeling that she was naughty and needed to be disciplined—those things she liked. They made her crazy with desire and at the same time warm and happy inside. But the actual spanking itself? It just hurt. It hurt badly every single time.
During the spankings, she always cried and wished that she hadn’t done whatever it was she’d done to earn it. And it seemed to last forever because Daddy Clay was a very thorough spanker. He made sure every inch of her squirming bare bottom felt his chastisement.
She recalled one particularly serious punishment. She had promised him she would ask for what she needed instead of being too proud, but that promise had turned out to be more difficult to keep than she’d thought it would be.
Instead of telling Daddy she needed a stepladder to reach the top cupboard in the kitchen, she had taken to climbing on the counter when she had to reach something high up.
On a day that would forever be burned into her memory, he caught her balancing on the edge of the counter while she reached for some paper plates in the back of the cupboard. When he appeared behind her and asked what the hell she was doing standing on the counter, his voice startled her and caused her to stumble backwards directly into his waiting arms. He held her fast against his waist with one arm while he opened up a drawer and selected a wooden spoon.
“Oh, no!” she cried, wriggling against him. She hated the wooden spoon with a passion. It stung like the dickens, and there was something awful about getting punished with something she had to look at every day.
“Oh, yes,” he responded dryly, his long strides carrying her to a straight-backed kitchen chair. He sat down and maneuvered her over his lap.
“What did I tell you about asking me when you need something, like a stepladder? Didn’t I already spank you for being too proud to ask for my help?” he scolded as he hooked two fingers in the back of her shorts and panties and shoved them down to her knees.
“But I don’t mind climbing up. It’s not a big deal!”
“I mind it!” he bit out as he brought the spoon down in a hard thwack on her bare bottom. “It’s unnecessary extra work for you, plus it’s dangerous and uncivilized to climb on the counter.” He peppered her bottom and thighs with unrelenting swats. She realized as the punishment continued with seemingly no end in sight that he was punishing her much harder and longer than normal.
“Owwww, Daddy, no!” she blubbered, feeling frantic for the pain on her bottom to stop. “I’ll be good. You’re spanking so hard, Daddy!”
“I know I am, this is a serious punishment. It’ll always be this serious when I have to spank you twice for the same thing. Do you think I’ll have to do this a third time?”
“No!” she wailed. “I won’t be too proud again.”
He paused and set the spoon down on her lower back. “I hope not. There’s no excuse for it. I’m here to take care of you. That’s part of the arrangement, but I can’t do that if you’re not forthcoming with me about what you need.”
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