Giddy Up, Daddy (Dirty Daddies 2024 Anthology #5)

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

“What the hell are you doing?”

Blakely sat up, banging her head against the shelf. “Oh. Ouch. Ouch. Ouchie.”

“Shit . . . I mean, shoot, girl,” Grandpa Jack said.

She turned to see him standing in the doorway of the pantry. Her eyes were watering from the pain in her head.

“I was looking for a lunchbox for Stafford.”

“Boy is forty-two. Don’t think he’s used a lunchbox in years,” he said. “Come out of there. You’re not supposed to be working until your hands heal.”

“I’ve been here three days,” she complained as she stood and followed him out of the pantry. “They’ve healed and I’m going nuts with boredom. I have to do something. I feel like a freeloader.”

He grunted. “You got to do as you’re told, girl.” He reached into the smaller freezer they had in the house and pulled out an ice pack. “Put this on your head.”

So far, things between her and Jack had been a bit awkward. He seemed to be doing his best to avoid her. He appeared for meals and if Stafford wasn’t there, which happened more often than not, then it was a very silent affair.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“What for?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m intruding on your private space. If you’d rather I left, I understand.”

“Where would you go?” he asked as he sat.

She shrugged. “I’d find a place. I’m resourceful.”

He eyed her. “You haven’t got any family?”

“Uh, no. My parents died when I was ten and I lived with my grandfather until he died. Then I went into foster care.”

“Sounds like a hard life.”

“Life is what you make it, right?” She rubbed her head. Ouch. That bang had really hurt. “Have you got any other grandkids?”

“Nope. We only had one son, Stafford’s dad. He died of cancer about ten years ago. Stafford’s mom, well, she divorced him when Stafford was a baby. We never saw her again. They lived in Wyoming. But he used to come out and stay with us during the summer holidays.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It is what it is.”

They sat for a while as he did his crossword. But the silence didn’t seem so awkward.

“Would you like a coffee? Or tea?” she asked, setting the ice pack aside and standing.

“You feeling all right, girl? Not dizzy?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Your hands?” he asked.

“They’re good too.”

“Fine, then. I’ll take a cup of tea. Use the white cups. They’re cheap and it doesn’t matter if you break them.”

She smiled. “You got it, Mr. Hill.”

He eyed her. “Thinking you better just call me Grandpa Jack. Be easier.”

“All right, Grandpa Jack.” Blakely made him a cup of tea and got herself some coffee before sitting with him.

“How do you feel about checkers?” Grandpa Jack asked suddenly.

“Checkers?” she asked.

“Yeah, I haven’t played in a few years. Would you be interested in a game?”

“Sure, but I’ll warn you that I’m pretty good.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Well, best you resign yourself to losing, girl. Because I’m better.”

Stafford glanced down at the note in his lunchbox as he opened it up to wash it.

He hadn’t used a lunchbox since he was a kid. But Blakely had found one and now she packed him a lunch every day.

With a note.

He ran his finger over the note.

Have a great day! Blakely xx

It was likely inappropriate to write a note with kisses on the end to your boss. But for all he knew, she wrote notes like that to everyone.

Yeah.

He didn’t like the idea of that.

He was entirely too possessive of her.

She’s your housekeeper. Not your girl.

He still popped the note into his pocket. He would put it with the rest of them. For some reason, he was unable to throw them away. She’d been here three weeks now, so he was accumulating quite the pile.

After washing out his lunchbox, he checked in the oven for his dinner.

Yep. There it was.

No matter how late home he was, there was always a plate of food waiting for him. Blakely was an amazing cook, and the house was the cleanest it had ever been.

She and Grandpa Jack were even getting on. Well, from what he’d seen. It wasn’t like he’d been around much.

You’re busy.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

It wasn’t that he was avoiding her or anything.

Yeah, sure, it’s not.

Avoiding her didn’t stop him from thinking about her or worrying about her. She had wedged herself inside him and didn’t want to let go.

It was maddening.

After he finished his dinner, he cleaned up and headed toward his bedroom. But as he passed the living room, he noticed that the door was slightly open and he could hear something inside.

He walked into the living room and saw her standing at the ironing board. There was a cartoon playing quietly on the television, and she let out a giggle.

He stood there and watched her. She set the iron down and turned. As she turned, she managed to stand on her untied shoelace and started to wobble with a scream.

Jumping forward, he grabbed her before she fell. “Blakely!”

“Oh my God! I didn’t see you there. You scared me.”

Yeah, well, she’d scared him too.

He could feel his heart racing. What was she thinking? She needed to keep her shoes laced up. She could have fallen and knocked over the iron. If it had landed on her . . .

Picking her up, he carried her to the sofa and sat her down. He turned off the iron before returning to stand in front of her. “What were you thinking?”

“Um. Sorry. Did I have the TV too loud?” She glanced at the television, blushing. “I was just watching some kids’ cartoons.”

“I don’t care what you were watching,” he said gruffly as he crouched in front of her and tied her shoelace. “You need to keep these tied. You could have really hurt yourself. If you don’t keep them tied, I’m going to confiscate all of your shoes with shoelaces, understand?”

“Oh.” She gave her shoes a surprised look. As if she hadn’t even realized they were untied. “Oopsy.”

Hmm. Did she realize that she sounded rather young? He decided not to mention it.

“And what are you doing ironing at this time of night?” he grumbled.

“I like to iron in the evenings. It’s relaxing.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “Lying on the couch and watching TV is relaxing. Taking a bath is relaxing. Ironing is work. You’re not to work after dinner. Do you hear me?”

“I’m not?” She gave him a surprised look.

Shit. He should have told her this already. “No, you’re not. You should be in bed.”

“You’ve been working,” she pointed out.

Stafford sat beside her. He should leave, but he just didn’t have the energy.

“Yeah, well, there’re endless jobs to be done and not enough hands to do it.”

“Oh. Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

He shook his head. “You do enough around here. Too much. You look tired. You should rest more.”

“Me? I’m fine. But I wish I could wave a magic wand and take all your jobs away!”

He had to smile as he took in her earnest face. “Thanks, darlin’.”

“I’m an amateur magician, you know.”

“Are you?” He found himself relaxing further as she nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m not very good, though. And Mrs. Flopsy and Mr. Whiskers don’t make the best audience.”

“Well, maybe Grandpa Jack and I could be your audience one day,” he offered without thinking.

“Really? You’d do that?” She bounced up and down on the sofa.

Shit.

He couldn’t take it back now.

And the truth was, he kind of wanted to see her do some magic tricks. Perhaps there could be more to his life than work, work, and more work.

“If you’ve got time, of course,” she said, calming down and chewing her lip.

“Things will ease up soon,” he lied. “How are you and Grandpa getting on?”

“Good. He keeps beating me at checkers, though. I think he’s cheating, but I can’t work out how.”

He chuckled. “He always wins at checkers. Always beat me as a kid. Grandma used to tell him off for not letting me win, but Grandpa always argued that if you let kids win they’ll never learn how to lose.”

“It must have been fun coming here to visit in the holidays.”

“Yeah, it was. My mom left us when I was young, and my dad had to work a lot. He was an accountant. He hated ranching. But I loved it when I came here.”

“It is really nice,” she said, looking around. “I’ve worked lots of different jobs. I like this one the best, though.”

He had to chuckle. “Really? With two bossy, grumpy men?”

“Hmm, every job has its downside.”

He laughed again. Hmm. When was the last time he’d laughed like this? He couldn’t remember.

“You seem really busy, though. You should take time to relax more,” she told him.

“I don’t have time for that. I have too much to do around here. Maybe once I get everything running smoothly, I can have a life again. Socialize. Date.”

Date? Really?

Did he really want to start dating again? He’d come out of a long-term relationship about six months before Grandpa Jack had his fall and he’d moved here. And he hadn’t been in a good space to even think about dating again since.

So why now?

“My friend said your car will be ready by the end of next week,” he said, changing the topic. “He’ll drop it out here.”

“That’s so nice of him. And I’m so grateful he’s letting me pay the bill in instalments. Thank you.” She reached out and patted his leg.

Her touch felt far too nice, even though he knew it was just a casual touch. He got to his feet.

“Time for bed,” he said gruffly.

“Oh. Right. Sure. I’ll just finish?—”

“Bed, Blakely. I mean it. Understand?”

“All right.” Her shoulders slumped and he felt terrible.

“You need your sleep if you’re going to put that magic show on for us,” he told her.

Her face lit up, and she nodded. That was better. He’d much rather see her smiling than upset.

Stafford decided not to think too hard about how much her happiness meant to him.