Page 250 of Cowboy Daddies

“Listen to me,” he ordered, cupping her chin in his hand. “He was lying to you. You’re an amazing artist and this picture should never be ripped up. None of them should. Doesn’t matter how good or bad they are.”

Shoot.

How had she not seen what her father was doing to her? How he was trying to undermine her confidence?

“I never saw what he was doing.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to see it while you’re living it. But when you’re away from it, then you can have some more perspective.”

Yeah, she guessed he was right.

“Perhaps you can draw another picture after your snack,” he said. “And your punishment.”

“My punishment? Why? I haven’t been naughty!”

“Did you forget about yesterday?” he asked.

Well. Hell.

She kind of had.

“I think we could forget about that, don’t you, Daddy?” she asked.

“Not happening, little girl. You need to eat your snack and then we can get that punishment over and done with. Then you can draw some more before lunch and a nap.”

Yikes.

He had everything planned out. Casey wasn’t really a planner. She preferred to go with the flow.

“I really don’t feel like being spanked today, though, Daddy,” she told him. “Perhaps we could schedule that on Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? In a few days?”

“No, next year.”

He snorted. “Nice try, little girl. Not happening. You’re getting punished today.” He grabbed the plate of food from the tray and set it down in front of her.

Casey wrinkled her nose. “Uh, Daddy, what is this?”

“This is your snack.”

“But . . . but it’s vegetables! Vegetables aren’t a snack! They’re the thing that you try to avoid eating at dinner. A snack is cookies and milk. Or doughnuts. They’re a great snack.”

Poor Daddy. He really needed her help if he thought that this was a snack. He’d taken away her candy stash so she was dying for a sugar hit. And the carrot and cucumber slices with ranch dipping sauce just weren’t going to help her with her cravings.

“Those things aren’t good for you.”

“Food doesn’t always have to be good for you, Daddy,” she complained. “It can be sugar and carbs, you know.”

“I know. In moderation. But you seem to live on sugar and not much else. I’m worried about the state of your teeth.”

“I am not going to the dentist.”

Not. Happening.

And she didn’t care about her disintegrating tooth.

He just gave her a stern look.