Cowboy Daddies: Two Western Romances
Page 11
“Shhh,” he whispered, holding her tightly against him. “That’s a good girl. All is forgiven. There, honey, rest your head and let it all out now.” Something in her loosened, her guilt now wiped away. He’d punished her, not harshly or in anger, but firmly, in a way that somehow… she needed. She’d never been disciplined by someone as strong and sturdy as he was, and she knew in her heart she’d deserved the punishment. Though not a harsh spanking, the very fact of being humbled over Shane’s knee reduced her to a little girl, dependent on comfort in the arms of this man of authority.
He held her and waited until her tears slowed before he spoke. “Anything else you haven’t told me, darlin’? Is there another reason why you’re cryin’? Don’t much blame you, as it’s pretty normal to cry after a lickin’.”
She sniffed and shook her head. “No, sir.” But it wasn’t true… part of it was a lie, and her tears started afresh. He’d been so disappointed by just what had happened today. What would he do when he found out about what she’d done… how she’d let Malcolm take the money, gifts meant for Clay and Abby?
Chapter Seven
Shane stood up in the barn, his back aching from having been crouched over in one position for so long, but his work was now done and the sun had begun to set. It was well past dinnertime as he scrubbed a hand across his sweaty brow and wiped his hands on his bandana that hung at his waist. But he stood proud, having completed a hard day’s work. The cattle were safe and secure, he’d mended a post on the fence Clay’d noticed the week before, and he’d even checked in on the payroll. His stomach rumbled in hunger, and he longed for a good, cold drink. After a shower and some water, he’d make some dinner and crack open a cold one.
As he made his way to the house, he wondered how Daisy had fared. She’d given him a hand feeding the cattle, but then asked if she could go back and do some work at the house. With Abby gone, and the house mostly unattended, he’d decided it was more fitting to allow her to take care of the more domestic chores, especially since she’d seemed eager. He had a list of his own to tackle, so he gladly obliged.
He hadn’t been to the house all day, he’d been that busy, and for a moment he hoped that she’d behaved herself. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, after all. As he drew closer to the house, the faintest sound of music came to him, twangs of guitar and a lilting voice that was hauntingly beautiful. He listened attentively, trying to identify the singer. But as he crunched on gravel making his way to the entrance, the music quieted and the door swung open. Daisy stood looking up at him, beaming, her hair tied up in a messy bun with curly wisps framing her face, the blonde halo that made his heart twist. She wore a blue gingham apron dotted with flour and made a fetching little picture standing on the porch.
“Hey!” she said brightly, smiling at him. “Where’ve you been all day? I have supper waiting.”
He blinked, taken aback. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t Daisy sporting an apron and greeting him at the door. The door banged shut, and he entered the house in a stupor. Lit candles sat on the table set for two, cloth napkins neatly folded into triangles with silverware atop, a basket of fresh bread aside a butter dish, and a large bowl of tossed salad. Something smelled divine in the oven, and his stomach growled.
“Well, now,” Shane said, immensely pleased with this turn of events. “Don’t you look pretty as a picture.”
Her cheeks flushed and she cast her eyes at the floor. “Thank you, Shane.”
“You made all this for me?”
She nodded, but then her eyes clouded a bit. “I made it a while ago, though.” Her lip stuck out in a pout. “Why did it take you so long?”
He walked to the kitchen sink and grabbed the large slab of homemade soap Clay kept there, lathering up his hands and washing up thoroughly. With his back to her, he couldn’t see her face, but he kept his voice even. Women were temperamental creatures, this he knew from having three sisters. She’d been sweet to cook for him, but there was warning in her little pout. He dried his hands as he spoke. “Now, Daisy, I didn’t know you were cooking or I’d have come in sooner. Clay and I took a few days off what with the wedding and all, and I had some catching up to do.”
He turned to face her. She didn’t make eye contact with him, but continued laying out casserole dishes with serving spoons. She did not respond, but her lower lip still stuck out.
Oh, boy.
This wouldn’t do. His deep baritone filled the room. “Daisy.”
“Yes?” she said, still not looking at him.
“I’m talking to you, little girl.” That got her attention alright. She looked up at him with a look of wonder, her lips parted. He leaned against the sink and beckoned. “C’mere.”
She placed the spoons in her hands gently on the table, her eyes widening as she slowly walked to him. When she reached him, he placed a hand on her waist and drew her close. He tapped a finger on her chin. “What you’ve done here is amazing, darlin’. This looks like a meal fit for a king, and I was half expecting to microwave some macaroni and cheese or something, but you’ve clearly worked hard here. Do we want to ruin this with a bad attitude?”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “No, sir, I don’t. I just… wanted to make you proud, and it seemed I’d been waiting all night for you to come back.”
Sweet little thing. He pulled her to him and kissed her forehead, then whispered in her ear, “You did make me proud. Next time, I’ll tell you when to expect me, okay?”
She nodded against his chest. And as the sun set low on the horizon, something warm gave way inside, and he felt the instinct strong in his gut. This little girl needed him. To protect her. Care for her. Tend to her needs. And it seemed no longer pure accident that he’d ended up alone here with her at the ranch.
He’d worried a bit the night before that punishing her would push her away from him, but it appeared now that it had done the exact opposite.
Without another thought, he laced his fingers through her soft blonde curls and tugged, just enough to get her attention, and when she looked up at him with a wide-eyed stare, he brushed his lips against hers, testing, and when she responded by drawing even closer to him and sighing into his mouth, he tugged her hair harder, and the kiss intensified. He closed his eyes as she leaned on him, his mouth against hers as natural as could be. When after a few minutes they pulled away, she looked up at him and whispered, “Wow.”
He chuckled, spun her around, and playfully slapped her backside. “Woman, I need grub. Why don’t you show me what you’ve made?”
And as his stomach rumbled, looking at the delicious feast she’d made for him, he knew this was something he could get used to. She fiddled around the kitchen, opening drawers and taking out spoons until finally, he’d had enough.
“Daisy.” She opened a cabinet and fetched salt and pepper shakers, then stirred another pot on the stove. “Daisy.” She looked up at him wide-eyed and he pointed to the table. “Sit, honey.”
She nodded, stepped over to him, and was just about to sit when a knock came at the door. From where he sat, Shane could just make out the spiky haircut and slight form of that little shit Malcolm. He growled as Daisy shot up from the table and opened the door.
Oh, for Christ’s sake. Couldn’t a man eat in peace?
Daisy jogged over to Malcolm and they stepped outside, where they talked in hushed whispers on the porch. Something didn’t sit right with him. No. He couldn’t stand to see the little beady-eyed boy around his girl another minute.
His girl. The words came to him unbidden but he did not push them away. Something needed to change, and he would have to find a way to make that happen.
Chapter Eight
“What do you mean, you can’t get any of it back? You were the one who was in charge here,” Daisy hissed, her hands on her hips as she glared at him. He only glared back.
“Not my fault,” Malcolm said.
“Bullshit
it isn’t your fault!” She was so angry she wanted to hit him. God, what a stupid move she’d pulled. Why did she ever think when Malcolm told her he just needed to borrow the money for a night that he’d actually give it back? It seemed so long ago that she’d only wanted to please him, only wanted the boy to pay her a little attention. Now she looked at Malcolm, standing in front of her with a frown, his baby face cold and distant, and couldn’t imagine what she’d ever seen in him before, not when the likes of Shane Weston sat right on the other side of the door.
“I didn’t mean to lose it,” Malcolm whined. “Didn’t know it’d turn out that way. Was supposed to borrow it and double it over poker, but that loser Reggie tricked me. I’ll find a way to get it back.”
“Get it back!” Daisy shouted, her anger rising as she stabbed an index finger at his shoulder. Before she knew what was happening, it all happened in a blur. Malcolm grabbed her wrist and shoved her, hard. She stumbled and lost her footing, grabbing wildly at the bannister, but it was too far. She fell toward the stairway and screamed, knowing she was going to tumble headfirst down the small flight of stairs, but Shane was there before she knew what was happening. He grasped her about the waist and pulled so that she toppled backward, unharmed.
“You all right?” he said in his calm, deep voice, but she could only nod, watching Malcolm turn and attempt to flee, but Shane was quicker. His hand shot out and grabbed Malcolm by the back of the shirt. With a quick yank, the boy landed flat on his ass next to Daisy.
“You goin’ somewhere?” Shane growled. Malcolm’s wide eyes looked up at Shane, and he shook his head. He sat in silence. “You got a reason for layin’ hands on my girl?” he said. Though Shane’s voice was calm, it was laced with challenge, and from where Daisy sat she could see his right hand clenched into a fist, and a slight tremble. Malcolm shook his head wildly. “Good. Then you get your ass home and do not set foot on this property again.” He lifted Malcolm up by the front of his shirt and looked him in the eye. “And if you ever lay a finger on my girl again, you’ll answer to me. You get me?”
Malcolm could only nod, seemingly shocked into silence by his precarious position. Shane released him and Malcolm tumbled back, only long enough to get his footing and run. If Daisy hadn’t been so shaken up herself, she would’ve laughed but the best she could manage was a weak smile.
“Thank you, Shane,” she said.
Shane frowned, dusting his hands off on his jeans and shook his head.
“Took all I had not to teach that boy a lesson.” He smiled ruefully. “Not gonna be much help around here if I land my ass in jail. But he better not come back.” He looked at her, and her insides melted a little at the way he looked at her. “You okay, honey?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come here, now, honey,” he said, his voice lowering as he pulled her to him. He looked her over, and lifted her wrist when he found an angry red patch. “You whacked your wrist, Daisy.” He frowned. “I’d like to whack him.” But then he lifted her wrist to his mouth and kissed where it hurt, the tender move making her melt a little. Brushing a piece of hair behind her ear, he pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. “Go in the house now. Let’s eat some of that grub you made. I’m about to keel over if I don’t get some food in me.”
She didn’t respond, feeling suddenly shy, but inside she whispered yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
Thank you, Daddy.
Would he laugh at her, how she’d fallen for him in such a short time? He didn’t know she’d been observing him for months now, hoping she could catch a glimpse of him before her shift at the supermarket, her heart pitter-pattering whenever he acknowledged her presence. But she’d convinced herself he thought no more of her than he did a little girl who came to the doorstep peddling Girl Scout cookies. He’d pat her on her head and send her on her way. But now, she had a chance to get his full attention, if only stupid Malcolm would stop getting in the way. She frowned as she turned her back to Shane and prepped the food on the stove. What a stupid little jerk. How would she ever replace the money he’d stolen? Fortunately, she’d kept a stack of gifts aside that he never laid eyes on, but he’d stolen several thousand dollars, far more than she had in her possession.
“What’d you make, Daisy?” Shane asked, pulling out a chair.
She turned to go to the stove to show him, but he nabbed her around the waist, eliciting a little squeal.
“Nope. You sit here, and I’ll fetch the pots and pans. You worked to get this all set and now it’s my turn to serve the chef. Sit, honey.” He gestured for her to sit. Her gaze flitted back to the stove, and she hesitated for a second. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. She’d planned on showcasing her cooking talents with one entree at a time, wowing him with her skills, hoping he would take notice that she was a woman.
“Oh!” Daisy gasped, as a sharp spank got her attention. She turned wide eyes to Shane, who stood raising a brow at her. He pointed wordlessly to the chair. Ducking her head, she obeyed, and he gently pushed her to the table. She started as he leaned in and whispered in her ear, making goosebumps raise up along her arms.
“You do as Daddy says now, darlin’. Or do you need Daddy to take you over his knee again?”
Oh, yes, Daddy.
Her belly warmed and her cheeks flushed at her instinctive response. Hell, yeah, she wanted to be taken over his knee again. The clattering at the stove behind her made her sit up straighter. What was wrong with her?
“Which first, Daisy?”
“The blue one on the left, and the smaller pot behind it would be perfect.” She smiled as he served up grilled chicken and fragrant, buttery mashed potatoes, gravy and green beans, with a side of stewed apples and fresh bread. She smiled as he served himself ample portions, so large hers looked like a child’s next to his. And somehow, she liked that.
“Thank you, Shane.”
“No, thank you. You saved me from heating up noodles or canned ravioli.”
“Oh, eww. Do you really eat that?” She buttered a piece of bread and nibbled the edge, feeling shy and a little reserved around him.
“I eat whatever’s put in front of me,” he said with a shrug. “And if I miss dinner with Abby and Clay, then I just fill my belly.”
She nodded. It pleased her to see him eating what she’d served. He tucked into the chicken and potatoes like a starving man, eating large bites. “This is delicious,” he said. “You’re a mighty fine cook, honey.” It was all she needed. She smiled to herself as he cleared his plate and pushed back from the table, clearly sated. “Alright, Daisy. Now that I’ve had some grub and calmed myself down, you tell me why that boy was here.”
Her appetite suddenly fled. No, she could not tell him that he came to talk to her about the money. If Shane found out that Malcolm had taken Abby and Clay’s money, he’d lose his mind. And if he ever found out it was Daisy’s fault…
“He’s a pain is all,” Daisy said, taking a large, chewy bite of bread so she had one excuse not to talk for a minute. He watched her with narrowed eyes until she finished her bite and swallowed. “He fancies himself my boyfriend, though I broke up with him a full month ago.”
Shane’s eyes darkened, the brows drawing together. He nodded. “Anything else?”
“No,” she lied, not meeting his eyes.
“Daisy.” His voice held warning.
She could not tell him. She would not tell him. If there was anything she’d learned at her last foster home, it was that there was a time and a place to tell a lie, and now was one of them. Telling the truth would only get her in trouble.
“Are you sure there isn’t something else to tell me?”
She stared at her plate.
“Young lady, you look at me when I talk to you.”
Her head snapped up as she met his gaze.
“I said, is there anything else you need to tell me?”
She swallowed and merely shook her head, not trusting her voice.
Her heart skipped a beat, and her lady parts tingled at the stern gaze he leveled at her. She wiggled on her seat and couldn’t maintain eye contact. The thought of landing over his lap again embarrassed her, but at the same time she wanted to feel helpless, and something about his serious daddy face made her insides turn to mush. Here she was in the presence of a stern but loving man.
Someone strong. Someone dependable.
Someone who could handle the likes of her.
And deep down inside, she wanted that.
“Daisy.” There it was again. Deep, warning. She wanted to climb up on his lap and tell him everything, but if she did, would he punish her? Or, worse, want nothing to do with her?
“No. I have nothing else to tell you.”
He sighed, pushed away from the table, and patted his lap. “If that’s your answer, come here, then, Daisy.”
Oh, no. Not again.
She saw no other choice. With a sigh, she pushed up from the table and walked over to him.
Chapter Nine
She was lying to him. And though taking her across his lap and spanking her little bottom until she came clean appealed to him, deep down inside he did not want to. Would she hide from him if she trusted him? Likely not. It made sense, then, that he’d build that trust first.
Her head hung low, her eyes cast down like a little girl’s, as she shuffled her feet to him. Clearly, she was afraid of a spanking. But no, he would not punish her, not now. When she was within arm’s reach, he looped an arm around her waist and drew her onto his lap. Her little feet dangled over one side, as he pulled her up against his chest.