Page 33 of Cowboy Daddies

He wanted her. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “Can you carry me to bed, Daddy?” she asked, voice tiny and hopeful.

Grady stood without hesitation, lifting her easily into his arms. Sage twisted so she could wrap her legs around his waist and bury her face in his shoulder. She felt safe, protected, and cared for.

He carried her back to the house and into her room, where he tucked her in with gentle hands, pulling the covers up to her chin and pressing a warm kiss to her forehead.

“Sleep, Wildfire,” he murmured. “Daddy’s got you.”

Sage smiled sleepily, her fingers curling around the edge of her blanket as she snuggled deeper into the soft bedding. Her bottom still throbbed, a warm reminder of his discipline, but it only made her feel more loved.

“I like it when you’ve got me,” she whispered, eyes already drifting closed.

Chapter Eleven

Sage stood at the kitchen counter with her back to Rose, slicing thick pieces of sourdough bread while the morning sun poured through the window like warm honey. Her bottom still ached from the spanking her Daddy had given her the night before. The warm, tender reminder sent tingles straight to her core with every little shift of her weight.

As soon as she had gotten up, she’d examined her rear in the mirror. A session with her “battery-operated boyfriend” had been necessary afterward.

How in the world does a sore backside make me so horny and happy?

She wasn’t sure. She only knew it did. A secret, fluttery kind of joy kept bubbling up inside her every time she remembered his big hand and that low, stern voice telling her she was his good girl… even while he made sure she was very sorry for what she’d done.

Rose’s gaze heated a spot in the center of her back. Her Rosie-girl sat there, watchful and quiet as always, but something had definitely shifted in the last week. Her sweet girl was silent no more, as she worked at trusting the words in her own mouth again. Sage’s back was to her for this very reason, to encourage her to use her voice.

Sage wouldn’t say she was a chatterbox. Not yet. But she soon would be. Her heart did a happy little flip every single time she coaxed a word or phrase out of her once silent charge.

“Rose, honey,” Sage called over her shoulder, keeping her voice light and cheerful even though her bottom gave another warm throb, “do you want grape jelly or strawberry jam on your toast this morning? You have to tell me with words, remember? No pointing or nodding today. Those are your pa’s rules.”

Rose had pulled her miniature rocking chair into the kitchen to watch Sage make breakfast. The soft creak of Rosie rocking her wooden chair told Sage the girl was anxious.

Grady had laid down the law at breakfast yesterday after Rose tried to bolt from the table without finishing her eggs. He told her, “Once you’re in that chair, little miss, you stay put until your plate is clean. No exceptions. And I want you to answer with your words when Miss Sage asks you a question.”

Sage smiled to herself, biting her lip and silently answering, Yes, Daddy. I remember.

Even thinking about his firm tone made her tummy do flips. She loved it when he got all strict and growly. It made her feel Little and safe and a tiny bit naughty all at the same time.

She busied herself with taking a butter knife from the drawer, all the while hoping her brave girl would answer.

“Strawberry jam… please,” Rose answered, her voice still husky from disuse but growing stronger every day. Every syllable was more beautiful than a whole choir of angels singing.

Sage grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. She turned just enough to wink over her shoulder at Rosie. “Strawberry jam it is. Good job, sweetheart. That sounded real pretty.”

Rose’s cheeks pinkened up adorably, but she didn’t duck her head the way she had a few days ago. Instead, she picked up her fork and poked at her scrambled eggs. Where there had been only sadness before, Sage was beginning to see more and more joy in everything Rose did, even eating eggs.

She is my heart. Sage didn’t think she’d ever get tired of seeing Rosie’s smile. So, what was she going to do at the end of the summer, if Rose didn’t need her anymore?

Nope.

Her brain shut that down immediately. No need to worry about something that would happen that far down the road. Grady had said they would discuss it when the time came. She would just have to trust him.

The screen door banged open, and Grady’s boots thumped across the floor. Sage’s stomach did that familiar happy swoop it always did when he walked into a room. He had it all. Tall, broad-shouldered, and smelling like the most masculine man alive. If he could bottle that scent of his, he’d make a million dollars.

He dropped a kiss on the top of Rose’s wavy hair, then moved behind Sage, sliding one big hand around her waist. Rose giggled when he pressed a slow, warm kiss to the side of Sage’s neck.

“Mornin’, Wildfire,” he murmured against her skin, voice low enough that only she could hear. “You smell like vanilla and trouble. My two favorite things.”

She leaned back into his solid chest for just a second, savoring the heat of him and allowing his big hands to lift her against him. This had been their routine for the past week and had become her favorite part of every morning.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Daddy,” she whispered back, her voice a little breathy. “But right now I’m busy making sure Rose eats her breakfast like a big girl.”