Daddy in Cowboy Boots (Montana Daddies Book 9)

by Laylah Roberts

  But then he wouldn’t have brushed his arm over her breasts.

  Sliding his hands around her waist, he lifted her down. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a flowy, floral top with long sleeves and a high neck.

  “We have a small walk. I should have warned you.” He glanced down at her feet. She was wearing a pair of old tan sandals. “Can you walk all right in those?”

  “Oh yeah, I walk everywhere in these, I’ll be fine.”

  They were pretty old though and they didn’t give much support. If she’d known, she would have worn sneakers.

  “Are you sure? This is my fault. We can go back to town and have a picnic in the park.”

  “No, this is fine, honestly. Please, a picnic by the river sounds like just what I need right now.”

  “All right. But tell me if you’re having problems. Understand?” There went that note of sternness again. There was something wrong with her that she found that so hot.

  Just friends, remember?

  He drew a picnic basket out of the back of the truck. It came complete with a red and black picnic blanket rolled up and attached to the side by straps. Then he grabbed a jacket.

  “Have you got a sweater or hoodie in your bag, Mari-girl?”

  She glanced down at her large handbag. “Ah no, I didn’t bring one. The sun is out today.”

  “But it could get cooler. Next time we go on a picnic, I’m sending you a list of things to wear,” he teased.

  If only there was going to be a next time.

  Reaching into the truck, he grabbed a hoodie. “It will be a bit big, but I haven’t worn it much.” He handed it to her and she tied it around her waist.

  “I’m sorry. This is the first picnic I’ve been on.”

  He froze. “What? It can’t be.”

  She frowned. It couldn’t?

  “Why not? I mean, I might have been on one when I was younger, before Mama died. But I can’t remember so I guess it doesn’t count, right?”

  “Your aunt . . .”

  “Isn’t really into children. Or me. Oh, wait! I lie!” She clapped her hands together. “Harry took me on a picnic once.”

  How could she have forgotten that?

  “Harry?” There was a funny note in Linc’s voice but she didn’t pay any attention to it.

  “Yes, he’s one of my aunt’s ex-husbands. Actually, she was married to him the longest. I came to live with her and Harry after mama died. He took me on a picnic in the park by our house. I had fairy bread and orange soda.”

  “Fairy bread?”

  “It’s white bread with butter and sprinkles on it. Harry was born in New Zealand. After his dad died, they moved to Texas where his mom was from. He told me on special occasions like birthdays, they’d have fairy bread. I think he was trying to cheer me up. I’d had a hard night.”

  “You liked him.”

  “Yeah. I was really sad when he and Rosalind split up. He was my favorite of all her husbands.”

  “There’s been a lot?”

  “A few,” she said vaguely, suddenly aware of how much talking she’d been doing. They were still standing by the truck.

  Linc gave her that knowing look again. You’re showing him too much, Marisol.

  “Let’s go.” He held out his hand to her and she clasped hold, following behind him.

  For a start it wasn’t too bad. They walked across a flat paddock. But at the end of it, they had to walk down an incline which had lots of rocks. She kept a tight hold of his hand. He was right, these sandals weren’t the best. He stopped in several spots to guide her down. By the time they reached the river bed, she was ready to sit down and rest.

  She followed behind him to a shady spot under a huge willow tree.

  “Wow, it’s beautiful here.”

  “I like to come here for some peace and quiet sometimes. Don’t get a lot of free time in my job. But this rejuvenates me.”

  He shrugged, almost looking embarrassed. She smiled at him.

  “I know exactly what you mean. Moving here seems to have recharged me a bit. Living in the city was tiring. Everybody was always in a rush, they all had somewhere to be. And well, I’ve always moved at a different pace from everyone else.”

  “Isn’t anything wrong with that, Mari-girl.”

  He laid out the blanket and gestured to her. “Have a seat. I’ll get everything laid out.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “No, teeny, you just rest.”

  Had he noticed that she’d gotten a bit winded on the walk here? How embarrassing. Which reminded her, she really needed to take her blood sugar levels before she ate. She bit her lip. Where to do it?

  “I’m just going to go test the water,” she told him, deciding to wash her hands in the river. She undid the hoodie that was tied around her waist and left it by his jacket.

  “All right, but it’s cold, so just dip your fingers in, nothing else,” he warned.

  Was he like this with everyone? She waited until she was facing away from him to roll her eyes. He seemed to think she was made of glass. It was endearing at times, frustrating at others.

  “I’ll be fine.” She walked along the side of the river for a bit. Then she took off her sandals and stepped into the water.

  Whoa. Cold. Bending down, she quickly pushed her hands under the water. A smooth stone caught her attention and she picked it up. Then moving out of the chilly water, she threw it up into the air. She giggled as it made a plopping sound.

  “That looks like fun,” he said.

  She turned with surprise. She hadn’t even heard him approach. “Oh, you gave me a fright.”

  “Sorry, Mari-girl.” He was glancing around then bent down and picked up a round, smooth stone. “Ooh, here’s a good one. Can you skip stones?”

  “Skip stones? What’s that?”

  “Your childhood is sadly lacking.” He shook his head. “City dwellers.”

  “Hey,” she protested, making herself grin. It wasn’t being raised in the city that was at fault, but rather that she hadn’t had much of a childhood.

  He turned side-on then flung his arm back then forward, letting the stone go. It skipped along the water.

  “Eight skips, not bad,” he commented.

  “That was awesome. I want to try.”

  She picked up a stone and tried to imitate what he’d done. The stone flung into the water and sank. Her lower lip dropped out. “Something was wrong with my stone.”

  He let out a bark of laughter. “I think it might have had something to do with technique as well.”

  She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Here, find a stone that’s nice and flat. Like this one. Now hold it like this.” He taught her how to hold it. “Turn side-on and pull your arm back and use your wrist to fling it.”

  She let the stone go. It sank.

  With a sigh, she turned away dejectedly. “Hey, where are you going?” He caught hold of her arm, stopping her.

  “Back to the picnic blanket. I’m obviously no good at this.” Like most things.

  “You just need to practice, teeny,” he soothed. “Let me help you. Here’s another stone.” Instead of directing her verbally this time, he stepped in close behind her. Taking hold of her arm, he pulled it back. She had to repress a shiver of arousal as he stood so close that she could feel his hard body, his warmth. She longed to lean back, to give him her weight as he grasped hold of her.

  “You listening, Mari-girl? Or are you away with the fairies?”

  “I’m listening. I’m listening.” She wasn’t daydreaming about him touching her. Nope. Not her.

  He went through the movement of her arm a few times then stepped away. She immediately missed his touch. She let the stone go and it skipped across the water four times. She jumped up and down with a squeal. “Yes!”

  “Good job! High five!”

  She slammed her palm against his.

  “Well done, little one. I knew you could do it.”

 
“Again,” she demanded. Five stones later and she could now get up to ten skips across the water. Mastered it. She started searching around for another one.

  “Come on, now. Come eat.”

  “One more,” she said absentmindedly.

  “You can throw some more after lunch. You must be hungry.”

  Her stomach chose that moment to growl. She blushed. Whoops. Maybe she was a bit hungry.

  “Think we better get some food into you.” He took her hand and she snatched up her sandals before he led her back to the blanket. She stared in amazement at the abundance of food he had laid out. Sitting, she laid her sandals next to her.

  There was pasta salad, egg salad sandwiches, cut up carrot and cucumber with ranch dip. And some cupcakes with chocolate icing that looked absolutely delicious.

  “Yum, this looks great!”

  “Good. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

  “Did you make this?” she asked.

  “Ahh, I did.”

  She gaped at him.

  He grinned. “What? You didn’t think cowboys could bake and cook?”

  “What? No, that’s not it,” she said hastily.

  His grin widened.

  “Okay, maybe I did think that. Sorry.”

  He shrugged and grabbed a plate, putting a sandwich, some salad and some of the sliced veggies on it. Then he handed it over to her. She took hold of it.

  “My nana taught me how to cook and bake. I don’t always have much time for it, but I enjoy it.”

  “But you must have gotten up early to make all this?”

  He shrugged. “I’m an early riser.”

  Even after being at a wedding the night before? The thought of him making all this for her flooded her with happiness. If he was willing to do this for a friend, what would he do for a girlfriend? He filled his own plate then nodded to her. “Eat.”

  “Oh, I can’t.”

  “What? Why not?” He frowned.

  “I have to umm, do something, first.”

  Shoot.

  Just tell him. You have no reason to be ashamed.

  But when she’d told people in the past, she’d had mixed reactions. From people telling her that she needed to cut all sugar from her diet, to explaining that she should exercise more. On the other side of the coin, there were people that were completely uninterested.

  “Do something first?” His face cleared. “You’ve got to pee? You’ll have to go behind a bush.”

  “What?” Pee? Oh crap. She hadn’t thought about that. There were no toilets out here. And now that he’d mentioned it . . .

  Nope. No way. Not happening. She wasn’t peeing behind a bush. That sounded horrible.

  You are a total city person, aren’t you?

  One worry at a time.

  “No, I don’t have to pee. Thank God.”

  “Then what’s wrong?” His eyebrows rose. “Do you have to—”

  “I’m gonna stop you right there because I’m not sure what other bodily function you’re going to come up with next. No, uh, here’s the thing. I have to check my blood sugar level. I can just turn my back so you don’t see me do it.”

  “Your blood sugar level? You’re diabetic?”

  “Yep, Type One.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything? Check it. Wait, why would you turn your back?”

  “Some people don’t like to watch when I prick my finger.”

  “A bit of blood doesn’t worry me,” he told her dryly. Although he was frowning slightly. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was he upset that she was a diabetic?

  She took out the monitor and lancet device. She pricked her finger then placed the drop of blood on the new test strip in the blood glucose monitor.

  “What did it say?” he asked.

  “Oh, it’s good.”

  “I don’t know much about diabetes,” he admitted. “I hope you don’t mind me asking you questions.”

  “No, I don’t mind,” she said quietly. Questions were good. At least he wasn’t immediately telling her what she should do or making assumptions about her life. “I need to take my insulin.”

  “Right, by injection, yes? Where do you do it?”

  “Usually in my stomach or thigh, sometimes my arm.”

  “Can’t you get like a pump or something?”

  “Yeah, you can. But my insurance doesn’t cover it,” she told him as she cleaned her hands with a wipe then prepared the syringe. “You can get pens too which are easier, but my insurance doesn’t fully cover them either.” She cleaned her skin with an alcoholic wipe then injected the insulin into her tummy. “It’s okay, I’m normally pretty good at keeping it under control. It’s just sometimes I’ll forget to eat.”

  She tidied up, putting the needle in a plastic container she’d bought with her so she could get rid of it later.

  “Well, we’ll have to see what we can do to stop that,” he muttered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged. “Some people react weirdly. Some act as though it’s my fault almost. If I just did this or ate that, then I could miraculously cure it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” he stated, making her insides go warm.

  “I didn’t want it to come between us.”

  “Nothing is coming between us.” He reached over and took her hand. Then he cleared his throat awkwardly as though just realizing what he’d said. He let her hand go. “Is there anything I should know? Signs to look for if your blood sugars are dipping or spiking?”

  “Oh well, signs of it spiking are usually a headache or I’ll need to pee and drink a lot and be really tired. When it dips too low, I often feel light-headed and tired. Sometimes I get irritable and anxious.”

  He frowned. “I need a list of what to look for and what to do to help you. Will you give me that?”

  “Sure,” she told him. “I can do that.” She dropped her head, feeling like she was being a nuisance.

  He moved closer, setting his finger under her chin and raising her face up. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You do whatever you need to do to be healthy. That’s what is important.”

  She bit her lip shyly but nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me for being understanding about your health. I never want you to hide anything that might put your health at risk, understand me? No matter what we are doing or where we are, you stop and you tell me. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “I’m very serious about this, Mari-girl. I will not be happy if your health is put in jeopardy because you didn’t tell me about something.”

  “Yes.” Wow. He made her feel so special and cared for. It nearly brought tears to her eyes.

  “How long have you been diabetic?” he asked.

  “Since I was thirteen. It was hard in the beginning, there was so much to learn and remember.”

  “Was your aunt much help?”

  Help? Rosalind?

  “I’m going to take your answer as a no,” he said dryly.

  She shrugged. “No, she wasn’t much interested in helping.” She reached for a sandwich and took a bite. “Thanks for waiting for me. You didn’t have to.”

  His eyes widened. “My nana would have whipped me good if I’d started eating first.”

  She swallowed a mouthful of egg salad sandwich. “She would have?”

  “Absolutely.” He winked at her.

  The food was all delicious. A man who could cook and bake. Now, he was a keeper.

  “I wish I knew how to cook,” she told him.

  “So you don’t know how to cook at all?” he asked.

  “Not unless you consider heating up a frozen meal cooking.”

  He grinned. “No. Can’t say that I do. I could teach you.”

  Teach her?

  An image of them kissing, of him touching her, of her wrapping her mouth around his cock filled her mind.

  “Marisol?”

  “What?” she asked absentmindedly.

  “Do I want to know what
you’re thinking about?” he inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

  Oh. Nope. He really didn’t.

  His eyes danced. “Would you like me to teach you? How to cook that is.”

  “I’d like that,” she said shyly. “Only . . .”

  “Only what?”

  “I don’t know if I’d have the time.” Or if she was sticking around long enough. She felt so bad for not telling him that she might be leaving soon. She didn’t want him to feel like he had to help her. Plus, she knew better than to talk about Tiger and Saber with anyone. They were dangerous guys. You didn’t go around talking about them to people and live long.

  No, she couldn’t put him at risk. And they were just friends. This wasn’t his problem. It was hers.

  “You work a lot. I hope your aunt appreciates it.”

  She shrugged, feeling uncomfortable talking about it. “She took me in when Mama died. I don’t know who my dad was, he left before I was born. If she hadn’t taken me then my only other options were going into a foster home or having to go to Venezuela to live with a grandmother I’d never met. A grandmother who, according to my aunt, is the devil in a floral dress. Rosalind never wanted a child. But she saved me from that so I do owe her.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “Way I see it, you were just a child. You don’t owe her your life.”

  “No, I don’t owe her that,” she said thinking of Tiger.

  After finishing her lunch, she lay back with a groan. “I’m so full. That was so good.” She placed her hands over her stomach as she looked up at the branches of the willow tree above her.

  “Do you need to test your blood sugars again?” he asked.

  “Not for a couple of hours.”

  “All right, I’ll set an alarm on my phone.”

  That was sweet of him. As she lay there, her bladder protested, telling her that she really needed to pee. She sat up, pressing her thighs together.

  “You okay, teeny?”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “Because you’re teeny-tiny.”

  Oh, because she was short? “I’m not that small.”

  “You seem very little to me.” There was an emphasis on the word little and a strange sort of warmth filled her. Could he be . . . no . . .

  She shook her head at her musings.

  “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”