Page 249 of Cowboy Daddies

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I was worried you wouldn’t think that I was cute.”

“Well, that was silly. Of course I do. But sorry who?”

Huh?

“How do you address me?” he asked.

“Oh. Sorry, Daddy.” She could feel her cheeks heat even as her tummy danced with excitement.

“Good girl. Come with me.” He held out his hand and she walked forward and slid her hand into his.

“Where are we going, Daddy?”

“To one of the spare rooms. We can stay in the living room but I do occasionally get visitors and I thought you might feel more comfortable in a private space.”

That was thoughtful.

They entered a room with a single bed, nightstand and set of drawers. The walls were painted a soft gray and all the furniture was cream. There was something soothing about the room.

“I haven’t really got anything for you to play with,” he said awkwardly. “Or do. Or bottles or pacifiers or anything. Hell, I didn’t even ask how young your Little is.”

He looked so unsure that it surprised her. Jeb was never unsure. Why? Did he think she wasn’t going to be good at this?

“Not a great first experience for you,” he added.

She suddenly realized that he was concerned about her. About her enjoyment.

Stepping forward, she smiled at him. “I don’t mind what we do, Daddy. I just want to spend time with you. I don’t think I regress young enough to need bottles or pacifiers. I’d really be happy with some paper and coloring pens.”

“Yeah?” he said, brushing her hair off her face.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“All right then, precious girl. Let’s go see what Daddy can find.”

Half an hour later, she was lying on her stomach on the floor, drawing a picture of a tree.

“Wow, little girl. That’s an amazing drawing,” Daddy said as he stood over her.

He’d gone to get them a snack and she could feel her stomach rumbling.

“Do you think so, Daddy? I didn’t think it was that great. I was gonna rip it up and start again.”

“Whoa, no you don’t,” he said as he sat and placed the tray he’d been carrying on the floor. “Why would you want to rip it up?”

“I dunno.” She sat up, staring down at the paper. “It’s not that good.”

“I think it’s amazing. No ripping up pictures.”

“Really? My father always used to . . .” she trailed off as his face grew red.

Uh oh.

He didn’t look very happy.

“What did that bastard do?” he asked.

“Um, well, he was never happy with any of my art. Said it was pointless, a waste of time. Most of the stuff I showed him when I was younger he ripped up. So then I stopped showing him. But I ended up ripping most of it up myself.”