Catching Her Cowboy Daddy

by Rayanna Jamison

  “You are a very naughty girl, who needs a good long lesson in manners.” She squirmed over his lap, as her mouth dried up at his choice of words.

  “You had a good enough upbringing that you should know better, but you continuously make bad choices anyway.”

  She melted. The lecture was even more excruciating than the spanking, because he was treating her like a disobedient child, and she loved it. Nobody had ever cared enough to say the things that Finley was saying to her.

  “Now,” he said firmly, as his hand met her tender flesh once more. “You are going to watch your mouth, and you are going to speak like the respectful young lady I know you were raised to be.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she muttered, and before he could even react, she flew off his lap, and covered her face in her hands, peeping around the room through her fingers for a place to hide. Where in the ever-loving hell had that come from?

  She felt him stand, and she panicked, wanting nothing more than to run out the door and drive away, but the only way she could do that is if she “borrowed” his truck again, and past experience had proven that that was a terrible idea.

  Feeling his presence nearing, she backed up as quickly as she could, cursing when she hit the table, and almost fell. Finley caught her. “Franny,” he said quietly, “look at me.”

  “I can’t!” she wailed, still hiding behind her hands, until he physically moved them from her face.

  “Don’t look at me!”

  “Francesca,” he stated calmly. “What in the world are you so upset about?”

  She stared at him bug-eyed. Had he not heard her? Had that not really happened? Maybe she hadn’t said it out loud. She studied his face for signs that he was squeamed out, or laughing at her, but all she saw was genuine baffled concern.

  Fuck. Now what was she supposed to say, to explain her total freak out, if he hadn’t even heard her? She allowed herself to be led back to the couch, but instead of taking her back over his knee, as she expected, Finley settled her into his lap in a sitting position, and eyed her carefully.

  “Francesca, what is wrong? I need you to tell me what happened just now.”

  “I… I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out! I don’t know why!” she cried, dangerously close to tears.

  “What? Daddy?” he asked, nonplussed, sending her further into her spiral of sickened shame.

  “You heard me?” she sobbed, mortified, springing off his lap. Finley held her firmly in place.

  “Let me go!” she shrieked, fruitlessly attempting to extract herself from his grasp. “I need to go!”

  “Francesca!” he shouted, giving her a little shake. “Stop and listen to me for a minute, and then if you really need to go, I will drive you home.”

  Eyeing him suspiciously, she sobered. He didn’t seem at all bothered by it, and she wasn't sure if that should make her relieved or scared. Nevertheless, she allowed him to take her hands and lead her to the couch once more, this time seating her beside him.

  “Tell me what is going on, Francesca.”

  She could only gape at him. Why was he making her say it again? She pursed her lips together tightly, and shook her head.

  He only sighed, “You’re upset that you called me, Daddy?”

  There was no way she was going to have this conversation. No freaking way. She stared at the floor.

  “Okay, fine. I guess I will be the one doing all the talking. Would it surprise you to know that it is not at all a big deal, nor is it even that unusual?”

  Eyes widening, she looked up at him, and silently waited for him to continue.

  “It does not bother me, so if you are embarrassed, you have no reason to be. It’s a semi- automatic, natural reaction when someone is expressing a kind of care and discipline that your father never did. It would not bother me if you called me that every day, whether I was spanking your ass at the moment or not.”

  “Okay, That’s weird. And disturbing.” She didn’t add that it was also a relief, because it didn't seem like it should be. It seemed like warning sirens should be going off in her head, but they weren’t.

  Finley, just chuckled at her. “Are you finished with your little panic attack there? Because I’m not finished with what I was doing.”

  “What? Oh.” Francesca took a deep breath, and checked herself. Her heart rate was back to normal. Her cheeks didn’t feel as if they were on fire, and her brain was in processing mode. Could she take in everything that had just happened, and place herself back over his knee? It seemed wrong. Why did it feel so right?

  He was stoically silent, staring at her expectantly, but also with an absurd amount of patience as if he could actually hear the battle that was taking place in her head at the moment.

  If she withdrew consent, and asked him to take her home, she knew he would. But, how would she feel about herself in the morning?

  Drawing a last shaking breath, she closed her eyes, and propelled her body forward onto his lap once more. God help her.

  Chapter Six

  Don’t call him Daddy. Don’t call him Daddy. Don’t call him Daddy. The silent mantra repeated in her head over and over again, in time with her heartbeat. Finley wouldn’t mind, she knew that now, but she still wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

  It seemed icky to her, but what did she know? There was nothing about her current situation that was normal. Here she was lying over the lap of the town’s mayor and her father's ex ranch hand, praying for him to continue his assault on her ass, for cursing at him of all things. It was so far from what she would consider normal, she might as well pack up and move to another planet.

  She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts, and concentrating so hard on not committing another faux pas, her body wasn’t even registering the pain of the spanking. She heard it, she knew it was happening, but it was as if her whole body had gone numb, and all she could concentrate on were her own thoughts.

  Thankfully, Finn had made the wise decision to forgo any further lecturing, and seemed content to let his hand do the talking for him. Not that it mattered. She was too far gone. She didn’t even notice when he stopped, until he hoisted her out of her prone position and back into a sitting position on his lap.

  “That...didn’t seem very effective,” he chuckled.

  She just stared at him blankly, fumbling for a response that would make sense.

  “Earth to Francesca...Come in, Franny; are you there?” he joked.

  “How are you so calm?” She finally choked out. “This is insane. This whole thing is just crazy, Finley, and I don’t think I can do it anymore.” She was choking on tears as the words tumbled from her almost as if of their own volition. “But, I really want to,” she added in a whisper.

  “Well, if you want to, Franny, then what’s the problem? Enlighten me, because as it stands I’m a little lost.”

  Her lips moved faster than her brain. “There is something wrong with me. This arrangement makes no sense. I’m a twenty-five-year-old woman, getting spanked by a man only six years my senior, and calling him Daddy. And it doesn’t even phase you. And I like it, and I don’t want it to stop, and I have to go back to Oregon sometime, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to. And….and the spanking hurts like hell, but I don’t know- it makes me feel calmer and stronger, and safe, and it fucking turns me on!” She exploded in an embarrassed wail.

  “And being turned on is a problem for you?” Damn that man. Here she was exploding into a giant blob of nonsensical emotions and he was laughing at her. Never let it be said that Finley Tucker didn’t have a sense of humor. He totally did. Sometimes too much so.

  “Yes, actually, because it’s not like you’re volunteering to help me out with that problem too! You’re just willing to cause it!” Oh. My. God. Had she actually just said that out loud? She needed to just shut her damn mouth and keep it glued shut until she was safely home in her own room. But, it was too late. She had not had much of a filter to begin with, and what she did have appeared to be missing in action
.

  To make matters worse, this time her stoic, good-humored mayor had actually reacted. His jaw went slack, his eyebrows were nearly level with his hairline, and his eyes appeared to be shrinking back in their sockets. And he hadn’t said a word. FUCK.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, the next thing he did smashed her heart into thousands of tiny pieces. Finley just froze up-he took a page right out of her own damn playbook and completely shut down.

  In one swift move, he plucked her off his lap, and planted her on the floor in front of him. And just stared, making the same funny face as before, wiping his palms on the thighs of his Levi’s.

  “I’m sorry, Franny, I thought- I thought I could do this, and it would be different. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”

  “Finley-Finn!” she yelled when he brushed past her and started for the front door. “What are you talking about? What mistake? What would be different?”

  There was no verbal response, just an impatient gesture in her direction as he held the door open, and waited for her to follow. Jesus. Her pants were still around her knees in a bunch, and he was just going to stand there with the door wide open? Thankfully his house was in a rural area, and not smack-dab in the middle of town, but still!

  He was already out the door, while she was yanking her jeans up past her aching ass and trying to get them buttoned. Shrieking, she ran behind him, carrying her sneakers in her hand, jumping into the truck as the engine roared to life. He hadn’t gotten the door for her, or offered to help her into the oversized cab, or even waited long enough to let her get fully dressed. Not only was it just about the rudest thing she had ever encountered, it was so unlike Finley Tucker that she would have laughed if she didn’t feel so much like screaming.

  She wanted to scream, and yell, and give him a piece of her mind, but she didn’t even know where to begin, and she was fairly certain he wouldn’t answer her anyway. He hadn’t said a single word since his nonsensical apology, and he wasn’t even stealing a glance in her direction.

  Fuck. This was all her fault. Her and her nonexistent filter. Why hadn’t she just taken the spanking, teased and sassed him like she always did and kept her hormones and girlish feelings out of it?

  Way to make shit awkward, Francesca, she mentally chided herself. To make matters worse, she was here for at least another week, if not longer. She didn’t want to leave until she knew what was going on with her father. When it had meant spending more time with Finley, even with the occasional spanking, agreeing to stay had seemed like a good idea. Now…now it was back to sounding miserable.

  Finn made the drive back to her parents’ in record time. He pulled up, and looked at her expectantly, not even turning the key in the engine. What in the ever-loving hell? This was Texas, and Finley Tucker was a gentleman. A gentleman didn’t just drop a girl off in front of her house, without so much as a goodbye, or a have a good night. A gentleman certainly didn’t just leave the car running and wait for a woman to let herself out. Not that she would have cared- Oregon men weren’t quite as chivalrous, and she was no delicate flower. It was the principle of the matter. Finley always turned off the car, and got out himself, and came over to open her door and let her out. He usually came right up to the door, and ended up coming into visit with her parents for a few minutes too.

  Certain he would come to his senses, she waited. Nothing. The engine stayed running, and he stared out the front window.

  She felt like exploding-she wanted to ream his ass and make him talk to her, but she did not want to cause the kind of scene that would draw her parents outside, and even as angry as she was, she could tell that she was on the verge of tears. She would not give him the satisfaction.

  She was boiling over with anger and she yanked the door open, and jumped down, slamming the door as hard as she could behind her, she stomped to the porch. Only then did she turn around, eyes glaring, and jaw set, to give him the middle finger, but he had already turned the truck around and was headed down the drive.

  Francesca looked at her watch. It was dinner time, and there was no way she was currently capable of sitting around the table, spewing niceties, and listening to her mother chatter on about the designer scarf she got for sixty percent off, that still cost more than Francesca made in a week.

  Fuming that there was no way to avoid her parents and still run upstairs to grab her boots, she took off towards the horse barns.

  *****

  He was a pig. He was pond scum. He was the lowest of the low, and he had just broken every rule of good manners that Aunt Martha had ever taught him. The poor woman was probably rolling over in her grave right this second.

  And Francesca. God only knew what she would do. Time and experience proved that she was not someone to forgo retribution when she felt scorned. And he had scorned her bigtime. Twice now. She would likely be out for blood, and he couldn’t even blame her.

  Slamming his hand on the steering wheel, Finley let loose with a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush. What had he been thinking? Spanking her had been fun sure, and to get to do it twice in one day, especially after his recent dry spell had been like a gift from the heavens, but it should have stopped there. A professional disciplinarian, he was not. He didn’t know how to separate the action from the emotions-because he had never tried, and frankly, because he didn’t think that doing so was actually possible. But he had ignored the warnings in his gut, and gone with his first instinct. He had played with fire, and he had gotten burned. Or rather, Francesca had.

  His stomach rolled as he thought through the implications. There was not a single way that this could have gone that would have worked out better for him. He had done the right thing- eventually- but the fact of the matter was, Francesca wasn’t going to spin it that way, and Joe would have his head. He could probably kiss the mayor gig goodbye.

  It had been a lose -lose scenario from the get go. What else could he have done? Told the truth, that he wanted her as badly as she seemed to want him? Worse yet, actually gotten involved in a sexual relationship with her, knowing that it could never go anywhere? He had been fooling them both- overestimating his willpower, and underestimating her feelings for him. But, mayor or not, he was the proverbial boy from the wrong side of the tracks, and she was his uptown girl- his girl next door- his. The sound of shrieking tires and wailing horns interrupted his thought process. He looked up just in time to see the truck coming at him, trying to swerve. There was no use. Two big trucks barreling at each other head on, with two little economy mom cars on either side. The safest thing to do was for them to hit each other, and pray for the best. Finley braced for the impact.

  Chapter Seven

  His head felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to it, and that was just the beginning, He couldn’t seem to get his eyes to read the signals his brain was sending and pry themselves open, but his senses were on full alert. There was a pinching in his hand that let him know he was more than likely hooked up to an IV of some sort-hopefully one with painkillers, and the scent of lemons and bleach lingered in the air. The background noises were machines buzzing, and shoes squeaking as people moved about the room.

  He woke up in the hospital, but he woke up. That was all that mattered. Well, almost all.

  He pried his eyes open, and found himself looking into the smiling eyes of Melanie Lewis, a nurse who had been a year behind him in high school. She was married to a local cop, and they had five kids.

  Always cheerful, Melanie looked genuinely happy to see his eyes open. “There you are Mayor! I was wondering if I would get to see you open your eyes tonight. My shift is almost up.”

  Finn opened his mouth, and tried to talk, but his throat was too dry, and sore and the words came out as garbled nonsense. Before he could even motion in her direction, Melanie was holding a straw to his lips, and coaxing him to drink.

  “Who was it?” he asked.

  Melanie sighed, “Clint Williams.”

  Finley couldn't keep the curse from slipping
out as he pictured the teenager, newly graduated and presumably home from college for the holiday. He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer. “Is he okay?”

  Melanie couldn’t keep the worry off her face, even though it was obvious she tried. “He will be. It might take a while, but I promise you, he's going to be fine eventually.”

  “What...happened? What's his prognosis?”

  “Now Finn, there is time for that soon enough. You haven’t even asked about your own condition yet. Everything in due time. Don’t you worry about Clint- we are taking good care of him. We need you to worry about yourself! What good is a town without a mayor?”

  “I can see you, I can hear you, I can talk to you. I know your name, and I am fairly certain I know what day it is. I’m pretty sure I am as good as can be expected.”

  “You still have your sense of humor too, I see. Finn, there was nothing that could have been done that wasn’t already done by the two of you. There was a car on each side of you that was much smaller. If you had tried to avoid the accident, it could have been worse.”

  He knew that she was telling the truth, but he still couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that there was something she didn’t want to tell him.

  His head hurt so bad, but the rest of his body was blissfully numb. He just wanted to close his eyes and rest for a few minutes. When the doctor came in, he would ask him about Clint Williams.

  *****

  Francesca trudged up to the house hours later, feeling only slightly better. She had almost forgotten how healing it could be to work out your troubles on the back of a horse while flying through fields. She had done a little bit of jumping too, something she had always loved. And she had almost forgotten about Finley Tucker. She probably would have too, if her ass hadn’t chafed against the hard leather saddle.

  The lights were on, and she could hear her parents speaking in hushed tones as she entered. They were probably enjoying their nightly ritual of coffee and scotch in the sitting room. Her mother would be reading, and her father would be watching the news, but only if there wasn’t a game on. If she was quiet enough, she might be able to sneak past them, and go straight up to her room. It shouldn’t be too hard to pull off- she had had tons of practice as a teenager.