Boss Daddy

by Shanna Handel

  What about the time that cute doctor at the rainbow-themed wedding asked you out? He was nice and polite. His mother was an excellent dancer. At the time you hadn’t had a date in well over a year. During the reception, you got to talking and found that you were both allergic to polyester. You joked about it for a while—he had been easy enough to talk to. Then, one of the guests fell, skinning their knees. You brought him the first aid kit and helped him patch up the injured party. Afterwards, he asked you for a drink. You froze, holding the gauze in your sweaty palm, your mouth going dry. Then, you said you were busy. Too busy for a drink, he had joked. The next day, you had regretted not saying yes. But a few months later, Hayes came back. And the rest is history. What if you had said yes to that drink? And the doctor and you had hit it off? Hayes would never have shown you interest if you had been spoken for—he may not have even come back to the ranch! Oh, dear, that would have been terrible—you might have missed getting together with Hayes, your soulmate, had you said yes to the doctor! So... another terrible example.

  Well, this letter has completely backfired from its original purpose. If anything, it is a reminder to just go with my heart and say yes to what feels right.

  Signing off,

  Type A, workaholic, perfectionist to a ‘t,’ perfectly happy being the good girl (except with Hayes) Louanne

  Chapter Four

  The following weeks went by in a happy bliss. So happy, I almost forgot that Travel and Dining’s lead editor, Eloise Smarts, was coming to interview us for the spread. It was the day before they were due to arrive when I remembered our appointment. I stayed up till well past midnight, making the final preparations for their visit.

  When they arrived at the Mess Hall via the CLAS minibus, nerves fluttered in my stomach at the number of people present. The last person to exit the bus was a short woman dressed head to toe in a white linen pantsuit. After the long ride from the airport to the ranch, she did not have a single wrinkle on her clothing—which is incredibly impressive to anyone who has ever worked with linen. She marched right over to me and began talking. “Travel and Dining’s Top Ten is quite an honor. We do hope you understand that, Miss Louanne.” Eloise peered at me over the rim of her purple-framed glasses. Her hand delicately fluttered to her short red bulletproof hair.

  Nervously, I rambled, “I certainly do, Eloise. I was speechless when I first heard that CLAS had made the list. Just speechless. Brody took the team out to dinner, then at the very end of the meal, he announced we had made the list! Here I was just doing my best creating simple but beautiful weddings for our clients—”

  She held up a perfectly manicured hand to stop me. “Drop the word ‘simple’ right now. There is nothing simple about what you do here. I mean, the views are breathtaking—and not just the mountains—and the staff is gorgeous, but it’s all quite rustic. To bring in elegance and charm to a ranch—well, it’s a miracle really.”

  I couldn’t tell if CLAS had been complimented or insulted. Though it was clear that she found our cowboys easy on the eyes. “Thank you?” I replied.

  During their visit, I spent the entire day with Eloise and her team of photographers. We tromped over every inch of the ranch. They took pictures of the guest cabins. Georgia and Bridgette had spent an entire week making sure each room was neat as a pin. Memaw’s kitchen was spotless and they got an adorable photo of her standing by her commercial stove wearing her red-checked apron, wooden spoon in hand.

  Josie had done up the Mess Hall with our Pink and White Fairy Princess décor I had chosen for the shoot, knowing it would look the best on the glossy pages of the magazine. Colton showed them around the activities we offered families during their stay. The boating, fishing, and horseback riding would all make it into the article. And of course, the barn.

  Eloise gasped with delight when she entered the barn. I had gone with ‘Romantic Ranch’ and doubled the number of LED candles and white roses—this time, fresh ones. I had spared no expense, knowing the investment would come back to us two-fold with new clients.

  After the full tour and a meal of Memaw’s home cooking, Eloise asked if we could sit in my office for a private interview with ‘America’s Best Wedding Planner.’ (Her words, not mine!)

  Eloise pulled a giant notebook from her massive purse. The bag had a woven tapestry look to it and reminded me of Mary Poppins’ bottomless carpetbag. “We’ve spent the day together, but I’d like to get to know you better. Delve into the psyche that is Louanne Dixon. Such a... quaint name.” She gave me a hard stare over her glasses.

  Again, compliment or insult? I snuck a peek at my clock on the wall, holding in a sigh. I was exhausted from the prep work for this day, as well as by the tour. I was ready to bid our guest farewell and crawl under my giant heap of fluffy comforters.

  She turned to a blank page in her notebook. “Now, tell me about your signature cocktail.”

  “I don’t have one,” I shrugged.

  Her eyes widened. “What? Every great wedding planner must have a signature cocktail. Now don’t be coy—what is yours?”

  “I have a delicious sorbet punch. A minty mock Mojito. Oh, and everyone’s favorite, my raspberry and mint tea. Before I pour the tea over the ice, I add a few frozen raspberries and mint leaves to the glass. The trick is to freeze the mint leaves, too. Any garnish in a cold drink holds up so much better when frozen.”

  She jotted a few notes down, murmuring, “And what is the tea spiked with? Rum?”

  I gave a chuckle at the idea of rum at one of our weddings. Brody would have a heart attack—or take whoever had brought the hard liquor onto his ranch right over his knee for a sound spanking—if there was rum. “There is no alcohol allowed on the premises. The owner is a staunch teetotaler. Straight edge. Clean as a whistle and as dry as a desert. Hence the name of the ranch—Clean Living and Sunshine.”

  She gasped in horror. “No alcohol? Then how do your guests have a good time?”

  I answered, “We’ve actually been told that our weddings are better for the family members of the bride and groom—no alcohol, no drama. Without the intoxication, ex-girlfriends no longer feel the need to approach the groom and give one last plea at a reconciliation. Your aunt Glenda isn’t feeling quite as brave and refrains from telling you she thinks you’re a floozy for living with your husband before marriage and that your dress should be cream, not white. And the speeches from the fathers are much more... touching. Without inebriation, humiliating stories about embarrassing thing you did when you were six years old don’t seem to come up as often.”

  “Ah—so, you’ve been a bride? Experienced these things firsthand for yourself? Sounds like quite a family you have yourself there, Louanne,” she laughed.

  I held up my left hand, signaling to the bare ring finger. “Nope. Just word of mouth from our guests.”

  Eloise placed a hand on her chest, drawing back in shock. “You mean to tell me you’re not... married? However do you pull off such beautiful events without being able to tap into your inner bride?”

  I shrugged. “Pinterest? My imagination? Lots and lots of lists?”

  Eloise leaned in, whispering as if she were telling me her darkest secret while seated in a room full of people. “But please, tell me you aren’t... single? Not with all these handsome, muscular men roaming around? They all look quite... capable.”

  “I was single, actually. For years. I’ve only recently become attached. And yes, I’m a lucky girl. I happened to be with one of our, as you put it, capable, men,” I said.

  Her eyes lit up. She asked in a hushed whisper, “Which one?”

  “Hayes—he’s the one with lighter hair and the blue eyes—”

  She smiled. “Oh, those blue-gray eyes? He’s the most handsome for sure. You are a lucky girl, aren’t you? Are you two thinking of tying the knot?”

  Hayes had practically proposed marriage within twenty-four hours of our first kiss. But getting married hadn’t really crossed my mind yet. Even though we’d known
one another for years, our relationship was still new. “Well, now... I, ah... I don’t know. It’s kind of fresh—”

  She interrupted me by clapping her hands together. “You know what would be lovely for the magazine? Just lovely?”

  “No... I, ah—”

  Excitement rose in her voice. She spoke quickly, her hands clasped before her. “If you and Hayes were to marry, Travel and Dining could cover not just any wedding, but your wedding. The wedding of the wedding planner! Can you imagine how many readers would pick up a copy of our magazine to read your article!”

  “We aren’t even engaged,” I said.

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you—trust me, it can’t be far off. My second husband looked at me that very same way and we were engaged after only dating two months. Now my third husband on the other hand... I should have known that wasn’t going to work out—”

  Feeling a bit overwhelmed, I said, “Eloise, I think it would be best if we just did the article as planned.”

  For the first time since she arrived in my office, Eloise got quiet. She leaned in even further than before. “Is it the money? They would pay you quite handsomely, you know. For the rights to the story.”

  “What story?” I asked. Frustration began to creep in over my fatigue.

  “The wedding planner that finally gets her own dream wedding. Can you imagine the photos? And you—with that perfectly milky skin and rosebud mouth. We might even be able to get you on the cover. Can you imagine the photoshoot? We are talking Vera Wang here. We could get a professional hair and makeup team flown in to do you up gorgeous. I’m sure Eddie will let me put you on the cover. He owes me a favor after I kept quiet about that misprint last month. And the gowns! Oh, the gowns. Vera will be so pleased to know one of our Top Ten is wearing her designs.”

  Vera Wang? Designer wedding gowns? Professional hair and makeup? Being photographed for the cover of a magazine? And not to mention the money. Hayes and I could afford a white sand beach vacation. It was tempting. After all, Hayes had kind of sort of already proposed...

  Eloise saw me cracking. Placing a soft hand over mine, she said, “Tell you what. You think about it, Louanne. We will focus on this spread—get ready for the Top Ten to go out. Then, just before it goes to print, you let me know if we can attach a sort of ‘stay tuned’ block in there with a photo of you and Hayes announcing the engagement and letting the readers know the coverage of the wedding is coming up in a special edition. Just think about it.”

  I couldn’t believe it when the question slipped from my lips. “How long until the magazine goes to print?”

  A light shone in her face. “Eight weeks. You have eight weeks to become engaged to that hunk of a man.” She gave me a wink.

  I could already feel the Alencon lace brushing against my ‘perfectly milky’ skin.

  After Eloise left my office, I sat at my desk, considering her proposal. I was not ready to be married. Engaged, perhaps. I couldn’t deny I had tried on a few giant cubic zirconia rings the last time I was puttering around Target. But married—was I even old enough to be wed?

  And the wife of a strict daddy? That was a whole ‘nother commitment in and of itself.

  But to be featured in a magazine, head to toe styled in Vera Wang? Professional hair and makeup? That was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

  I was ready for the photoshoot, the beautiful dresses, the hair and makeup. I just wasn’t ready for the marriage part.

  How could I have my three-tiered vanilla buttercream wedding cake and eat it too? What about a fake engagement? I just had to get Hayes to agree to go along with it. It was too soon for the real thing, but if we just told a little white lie and let Eloise think that we were engaged, I could do the article. Could I get my daddy to agree to the plan? Maybe with a little sweet talking.

  I thought over the idea. I had a feeling Daddy was not going to like it. Little knots formed in my stomach at the thought of his eyes turning gray and flashing at me disapprovingly. I didn’t have the nerve to face him. I would leave him a note. Who am I kidding... I would leave him a list. They’d always worked for me in the past!

  Carefully, I pulled a sheet of paper from my notebook and got my favorite pen out of my desk drawer. I began writing.

  Dearest Hayes,

  I have a teeny, tiny favor to ask of you. Eloise from Travel and Dining would love to do a spread about me. She said it would pay handsomely, and I would get to play bride. A team would come out and doll me up in wedding finery and they’d put my picture on the cover. What wedding planner doesn’t have a lifelong dream of getting to wear a Vera Wang gown? The only catch is that the photoshoot would be linked to an article about us getting married. It’s way too soon for that, but this is an opportunity I just can’t pass up. I am proposing we fake the engagement and I do the photoshoot. Now, I know you probably won’t like this idea, so I’ve made a little list for you to think over. Love you!

  Louanne

  Perfectly Good Reasons to Fake Our Engagement

  Vera Wang

  Makeup

  Hair

  Being on the cover of a magazine!

  The money

  Once in a lifetime opportunity

  Great for the ranch’s business

  Will bring in new clients for CLAS

  Practice for being engaged one day down the road

  Working with Eloise again—she is awesome

  Getting a second article in T & D (I still can’t believe we got the first one!)

  The article about us might bump CLAS’s number up in the T & D’s Top Ten for next year

  It’s not super dishonest because we love each other, right? It’s just a teeny, tiny white lie.

  Right?

  I chewed on the end of my pen as I read over the list. My arguments were weak at best. But I had to give it a go. Who knew... maybe Hayes would surprise me and say ‘yes.’ Leaving my office, paper in hand, I tromped over the ranch looking for Hayes.

  I found him in the back of the Mess Hall, tightening the legs of the benches. We had so many guests in and out these days, Hayes had taken to checking the nuts and bolts on the benches and tables weekly. He smiled brightly when he saw me approach, calling, “Hey, baby girl!”

  Rushing over to him, I melted into his arms, murmuring, “Hey, yourself, Daddy.”

  His lips met mine, causing a warm liquid feeling to flow through my body. I drank up the endorphins as we kissed, my head feeling fuzzy.

  He pulled away too soon, untangling me from his torso. He pulled the crumpled paper from my hands. “What’s this?” he asked, gazing over my scribbled words.

  “It’s, ah... a list,” I said, flashing what I hoped was a dazzling smile.

  He read over the note. His brow knitted as he murmured, “Perfectly good reasons to fake our engagement?” His eyes flashed up to me once, then his gaze went back to the paper.

  My shoulders tensed as I watched him read. I was beginning to think this was a really bad idea. I clasped my hands behind me, waiting for him to finish. As he continued to read, the little muscle in his jaw started twitching.

  When he was finished, he handed the paper back to me.

  I pasted on a fake smile, saying brightly, “So, what do you think?”

  “Absolutely not. And I should take you over my knee for suggesting such a thing,” he growled, running a hand through his sandy hair. “What were you thinking when you wrote this?”

  A little shiver ran through me at his threat. I stammered, “I... uh... I honestly I was only thinking of trying on those gorgeous dresses.”

  His gray eyes flashed with anger. “Lying to a magazine? Faking the most important commitment you will make in your lifetime? Is that what marriage is to you? A joke?”

  I knew Hayes wouldn’t like the idea, per se, but I hadn’t anticipated him being this against it. “It’s just for fun, Daddy. It sounded so princess-like. Getting to have professionals doll you up for the day. Having photographers take your picture in a desi
gner gown. Be on the cover of a magazine. Nearly the past decade of my life has been all about weddings. It makes sense that I would want to get to participate in the glam side of things. Doesn’t it?” I asked.

  His firm daddy tone came out. His hands went to his hips as he towered over me. “You’d be participating in dishonesty. And dragging me into the lie with you. That’s naughty, Louanne. And if you don’t see how wrong it is then you need a little trip over my knee to open your eyes. I just finished tightening the legs on this bench. I’d be more than happy to test it out by sitting right down and—”

  “I’m sorry! You’re right. It was a terrible idea,” I said, my hands going to my bottom.

  He eyed me, unconvinced.

  That sinking feeling started welling in my stomach. The pulsing of my pussy wet my panties. My body was confusing me with its sexy/scared reactions. Wasn’t that always the way when you were in trouble and knew you were about to be spanked?

  I began to back away from Hayes. I stammered, “I-I’m going to get back to work. Please, just forget I even suggested it. It was a terrible idea.”

  Hayes took a step toward me. I began to perspire.

  “What kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t spank my little girl when she proposed such a naughty scheme?”

  “The forgiving type? Everyone makes mistakes,” I said.

  His big hand wrapped around my arm. Seconds later, he was seated on the bench, and I was over his lap. He had done a lovely job on the bench legs—it hadn’t even wobbled when he sat down. “I can’t let this one go, baby girl. Just reading that note made me... so angry.”

  “It was meant as a means to an end. I just really wanted the opportunity. I promise, I didn’t mean any harm!” My protests were useless as my skirt was being lifted up and over my bottom. To add to my shame, he tucked the hem of my skirt into its waistband to keep it in place. I had a feeling we were going to be here awhile.

  The cool air sent goosebumps down my thighs as I prayed to the heavens above not to let anyone walk into the Mess Hall and see me laying over Daddy’s lap, my white panties on display. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as his hand rested on my waiting bottom.