Chapter 4 #2
For a minute, she seemed destined to fall.
She never could figure out how Trace got to her so fast, scooping her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing.
She squealed when he spun her to his side and settled her on his hip.
“You aren’t going to have much fun if you break your leg on the way into the house, little fox.
From now on, you wait for Daddy to open your door and help you out. ”
Heat flared from his touch, across her hips and settling between her legs. A distraction was needed. “You’re not my Daddy.”
He smiled and winked. “I’m always Daddy on the ranch, little fox. At least, I’d like to be. Wouldn’t you like to have a Daddy while you’re here? You seemed to enjoy it before.”
Truth be told, she’d loved every second of it. The Little inside her was finally getting the attention she’d always wanted. The Daddy she’d always longed for. Why shouldn’t she take what he was offering her? It could be her last opportunity.
But she didn’t want to hurt him. It wasn’t like she hadn’t told him more than once she was leaving soon.
She couldn’t make him believe her. He’d find out soon enough she was serious.
Before that happened, would it make her a terrible person to take what he was offering?
Or was it worse not to take it? It was so confusing.
Wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, she buried her face in his shoulder. “Yes, Daddy. I’d like that.”
He patted her bottom. “That’s my Foxy. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“Don’t forget I’m l—"
Before she could warn him, she was leaving soon, again, the double doors banged open, and three small whirlwinds blew onto the porch.
“Uncle Trace! Kip!” Joy led the charge, Tildi right behind, and Kenzie bringing up the rear. All three wore matching denim overalls and rainbow knee socks, Little space glowing like fireflies in their eyes.
“You’re here just in time!” Tildi hopped up and down, pink pigtails bouncing against her shoulders. “We were about to build our first North Pole blanket bunker of the season. Someone has to be on patrol to watch for Santa, and we’re short one.”
“Yeah,” Kenzie agreed. “A bunker is supposed to have four sides, so we need you. Come on!”
Trace shook his head, but a smile warmed his face. “You girls go ahead. Foxy, I’ll grab your suitcase.”
“Thank you, um… Daddy.” She couldn’t hold in her nervous giggle. What would her friends think? Deciding the best move was to dive all in, Kip gave Kenzie a sharp salute. “Reporting for duty, soldiers.”
Tildi shoved a sketchpad decorated with watercolor paint stains and colored pencil markings at her. “We need a mission, Captain Kip!”
Joy bounced on her toes. “Something with forts and monsters and absolutely no vegetables.”
“And flashlights!” Kenzie pointed a stuffed giraffe like a rifle. “We’ll gather the supplies. You design the bunker.”
Kip’s eyes sparkled. “Secret Mission Fort. Under the kitchen table. Top secret. No Bigs allowed—except maybe General Trace, because he’s our Big.”
Trace’s deep chuckle rumbled as he lifted the tailgate. “Copy that, soldier.”
Inside, the lodge smelled of roasting brisket and Christmas trees from the hearth. When was the last time she’d had a Christmas tree? Too long, that was for sure.
Giggling, the girls scattered like startled quail.
Kip let herself sink into her Little space. She was the captain, after all. “Joy, you get the pillows. Kenzie can grab the blankets. Tildi, you collect all the stuffies.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.” The girls copied Kip’s salute and scurried to carry out their assignments.
“I’ll grab Puff. A dragon should come in handy for sure.” Tildi skipped toward the stairs.
As they all divided to conquer, Kip realized she had no way to write anything down. “Tildi, where are your colored pencils?”
“Oh! They’re upstairs in my room. I’ll bring those back with the stuffies.”
That would mean she couldn’t draw out the bunker and patrol schedules until Tildi returned. Kip’s chest tightened. She needed to be doing her part while all her friends were doing theirs. It was only fair. Her part was important. “Can I come up with you and get them?”
“Of course.”
Kip took off toward the stairs, slowing only when Trace spoke. “No running in the house, little fox. And hold onto the banister.”
Trace was getting into the role of Daddy General much too soon, despite the tingles the protective nature of his order gave her. Slowing, she called back, “See? Bossy.”
Loud enough for everyone in the house to hear, he added, “Everyone, pile what you collect at the top of the stairs. Once you’re finished, I will bring them down.
You don’t want to patrol the bunker with a hot bottom, but that’s exactly what will happen if I catch you carrying armloads of supplies down by yourself. ”
Kip hoped her friends were listening because her Daddy sounded serious.
She stopped mid-step. She’d called him Daddy in her mind without thinking. That gave her pause. She was getting in way too deep.
Once she retrieved Tildi’s colored pencils, she busied herself designing the bunker and planning out the times and routes for their patrols. She wasn’t about to let her friends or Santa down.
Soon, the girls were back. Tildi introduced her dragon, Puff. Joy brought her platypus, Puggles. And Kenzie brought Sir Fluffenbottom the Bear, Sergeant Sparklehooves the Unicorn, and Private Pickles, the One-Eyed Alligator.
Trace helped drape the blankets into a sagging, glorious tent, flashlights clipped to chair legs, casting shifting constellations on the underside of the oak tabletop.
Stuffies stood sentinel at each corner. Kip taped the map to a table leg with a strip of painter’s tape stolen from Ruby’s junk drawer.
Once the bunker was set up, they all huddled inside so Kip could explain her map.
Well, almost all of them were inside. Daddy General Trace had to sit just outside the bunker in the doorway because his head scraped against the underside of the table when he tried to enter, dislodging all the blankets, causing a major fort failure.
Kip tapped the diagram, pointing out each of the patrol routes around the lodge. “The dotted lines are color-coded by day. And these Xs mark the spots we’ll use our ’noculars to look for monsters who might try to stop Santa on Christmas Eve. Wait, do we have ‘noculars?”
“Nope,” Kenzie said. “But we can make some out of some of the glasses. We have tons. All we need is a glass cutter and some wire.”
Trace’s brows shot up. “Let’s make them out of plastic cups instead.”
Sensing the need for compromise, Kip nodded. “That would be easier to wear around our necks in case we need our hands to fight the monsters. Now, we’ll also look for monsters and Santa’s sleigh in the sky on Christmas Eve. Any questions?”
Joy raised her hand. “I have a question. What is the name of our bunker?”
Kip tapped her chin. “Private Joy brings up a good point. Our bunker needs a name. Any suggestions?”
Kenzie’s hand flashed up. “We can call it the Bad Bitc—”
Trace ducked into the bunker, broad shoulders folding like origami. “Do not finish that statement, MacKenzie Claire. Unless you want to spend today’s patrol time in the stockade.”
With a pout, Kenzie nodded. “It was just a suggestion.”
“Suggestion denied. Let’s break out some of those MREs. You can discuss the name over your snacks.”
“That’s a great idea.” Joy clapped her hands. “I think we’ve earned it.”
“You definitely have,” Trace agreed. “Here are your water and rations.”
“Daddy!” Kip said with a giggle. “This is apple juice and granola bars.”
“Yeah,” Tilde said. “But not just any granola bars. These are Ruby’s homemade granola bars. They’re the best!”
Once everyone finished, Trace got serious. “Now, General Trace is on deck!” His bark was the best gravelly voice Kip had ever heard. He crawled further into the bunker. The girls saluted with sticky fingers. “Mission brief, Captain Kip.”
Kip announced, tapping the map. “Monsters have been reported in the Laundry Room Badlands, General. Our objective is to drive off the monsters and secure the cookie jar before Ruby notices.”
“Understood. Right then. Private Joy, flank left, secure the pillow perimeter. Corporal Tildi, you deploy Sir Fluffington to the east tunnel. Sergeant Kenzie, your job is to complete a flashlight sweep, three-second intervals! And ladies… we are securing the cookie jar, not sampling. Understood?”
“Wait, what’s my job?” Kip demanded. “I have to have a job.”
“You do, Captain Kip.” Trace winked and, with a wiggle of his brows, added, “Your job is to monitor everyone’s progress from here in the bunker with me.”
At his words, a tingle started in Kip’s tummy then shifted to someplace lower. Much lower. Being alone in a tent with Trace was the most dangerous mission she’d ever had. Still, they all saluted again and gave a reluctant, “Aye-aye, Sir.”
Trace’s lips quirked. “That’s roger, ladies.” As the girls cleared the bunker, Trace lost no time pulling Kip onto his lap.
“Daddy!” Kip wiggled, doing her best to escape.
The last thing she needed was to be this close to the man of her dreams. Everything in her wanted to fling her arms around his neck and kiss him silly.
Kissing Trace would be the most dangerous thing she could possibly do because if she started, she wouldn't want to stop.
“Let go, Daddy. I need to monitor my post.”
“You need to do what Daddy tells you to do. All I want right now is to give you a kiss, but if you keep wiggling like that, I'm gonna want a lot more.”
She froze on the spot. Kissing Trace would be bad enough… and absolutely glorious. Anything more would be disastrous.