Page 218 of Cowboy Daddies

Maybe saying yes to this hadn’t been such a good idea. Because it felt like she was failing before she even started.

Chapter Thirteen

Jeb felt terrible.

He stood outside the door to Casey’s bedroom, the look on her face from earlier playing through his mind. She’d looked so sad and defeated.

Crap. He hadn’t meant to imply that she was doing a bad job. Sure, it would be easier on him if she could cook. But they’d manage.

Although he wasn’t going to let either of them eat candy for dinner. That was just asking for trouble.

What could he say to make it better? He placed his hand on her bedroom door, surprised when it moved. Had she not shut it properly? He was about to call out when he heard her talking.

Who was she speaking to?

Actually, it wasn’t any of his business. She could talk to whoever she liked. There was just something about her voice though . . .

“So, Mr. Pickles, I made a right mess of things. I probably should have told Jeb that I couldn’t cook. But I thought I could just wing it. Turns out crackers and cheese are not acceptable food groups like we thought.”

Mr. Pickles?

Who was that? And why was her voice all high?

Despite knowing that he shouldn’t do it, he pushed the door open further and peeked in. She was sitting on the floor, dressed in a pair of shortie pajamas. They were a bright neon pink that made him wince. He noticed her bandaged foot was out in front of her.

Shit.

He should have checked her foot before she’d said goodnight and headed off to bed.

But who was this Mr. Pickles? Surprise filled him as she held up a stuffed alligator toy.

That was Mr. Pickles?

Okay, in hindsight maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise. She carried candy in her pockets. She enjoyed playing on swings. Not that any of those things really meant much. But with the toy she was talking to . . .

Was she a Little?

Did she know she was a Little?

And how would she feel if she discovered that he was a Daddy Dom?

Perhaps that was something best to keep to himself.

Chapter Fourteen

“I’m bored,” Wyatt said.

“Me too.”

They were sitting outside on the porch swing, staring out at the scenery.

She hadn’t slept all that well and could feel a headache threatening.

“What do you like to do around here for fun, sugar?” she asked.

“There’s nothing fun about this place,” Wyatt muttered.

“No? You don’t like the ranch?” she asked.