Chapter 6 #2
She loved Trace’s low, rumbly laugh when she came out of the bathroom.
He rolled the sleeve cuffs four times, then knelt to roll the legs until her toes peeked out.
His big hands were gentle, even when his calluses caught on the flannel.
Every time his knuckles brushed her skin, she felt it low in her core.
Making conversation, she said, “I’ve never had Christmas jammies before,” as he worked on cuffing her pants.
Trace froze, gazing at her in disbelief. “Never?” He shook his head. “You’re killing me, little fox.”
Her face turned the color of her pajamas. The look on his face made her chest hurt. Did he pity her? Suddenly, she needed to defend her parents.
“I had a wonderful family,” she blurted out, as if he’d accused her of something. “They were great. We just didn’t have much to spend on anything beyond the necessities. I had red pajamas. They just didn’t have decorations. That way I could wear them all the way through Valentine’s Day.”
Then he surprised her for the hundredth time that day. Taking both her hands in his, he kissed them one at a time. “I’m sure you have a beautiful family, Foxy. I hope you introduce me to them one day.”
Great. Now she was about to cry. She blinked as hard as she could, but it didn’t help. Her vision blurred as tears streamed down her face. He pulled her into his lap and held her while she cried.
Once her tears eased, he asked, “What about that makes your heart hurt, little fox?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. I’m sorry I lost control like that.”
“Losing control can be a good thing, babygirl. All those emotions need an outlet. You never have to apologize for showing me how you’re feeling.
I want to see all your feelings, not just the happy ones.
That’s one of the things Daddies are good at…
helping their little girls release the yuckies out. ”
She remained silent for a long moment. He held her without asking for anything. “I wish you could meet them, too,” she finally said. “They would like you a lot. I haven’t seen them in a long time. But I’m hoping one day I can at least call them. I know they’re worried about me.”
“What’s stopping you from seeing them?”
His question snapped her back to reality. What was she saying? Trace would never meet her family. Honestly, the chances of her seeing them again were slim. Rios was tracking her faster each time she moved. It was only a matter of time before he caught up to her.
Her family’s phone was probably bugged, too. Calling them would give Rios a direct line to her and, by extension, the Daniels family.
Trace must have noticed the change in her mood. Before she could step away from him, he lifted her and carried her over to the rug in front of the fireplace.
He handed her thick, fancy paper and a silver glitter pen. “Let’s worry about that later. Right now, Santa needs to hear from you.”
She blinked up at him, her mind turning to static. Write to Santa? “You were serious?”
She wasn’t trying to be bratty. She honestly had no clue how to do what he was asking.
He grinned. “Yep. You’ve got paper and a pen. All that’s left is to write the letter. To Santa.”
“What if I don’t want to write to Santa?”
There. That was better than admitting she didn’t know how.
His brows nearly touched his hairline. “Do it anyway. That wasn’t a request.”
Then she lost her mind.
Maybe it was the stress, or the danger, or the sadness, but nobody was going to make her write to Santa if she didn’t want to. To communicate this truth to Trace, an act of defiance was called for. She stuck her tongue out at him.
It was a toss-up whether Trace or she was more surprised. But that voice he’d used, all stern and growly, did fluttery things to her tummy. They kicked into high gear when he walked toward her.
“I was just licking my lips!” she lied. Her heart was now trying to escape from her chest. Her flutters intensified when he grabbed her ankles, tipped her backward so her feet were in the air, and spanked her bottom four times. Hard.
Lowering her feet back to the floor, he glared at her. “That was two for sticking your tongue out at Daddy and two for lying about it. Now, write a letter to Santa. Or do you need more motivation?”
“No, Daddy,” she said, not up for any more defiance.
“Good. Letter to Santa. Now.” He tapped the page. “No skimping. He’s got a direct line to this ranch.”
Still unsure what to ask, she got started. She made small talk, then listed a few of the things she’d heard women at the saloon say they wanted. She’d been so focused on staying off Rios’ radar, she didn’t even know what her options were when it came to gifts.
It didn’t matter anyway. Santa hadn’t found her for the past six Christmases.
This one wasn’t going to be any different.
Still, she couldn’t help but notice that writing to Santa turned out to be more enjoyable than she thought.
By the time she’d completed the body of the letter, she was actually smiling. Now for the finishing touches.
She signed her name at the bottom, hoping her letter would be good enough. Adding a few doodles and her best holly leaf, she centered the note on the table.
What time was it? She’d ask her Daddy, but he might get suspicious. If she had to guess, she had about three more hours on the ranch. After that, she would be gone.
The choice was hers on how to spend those hours. She could worry about tomorrow or create memories to cherish wherever she went next. She would need those memories.
“I thought I’d read you a story after you finished your letter.” He sat on the loveseat directly behind her.
She had a better idea. “I finished my letter already, Daddy. Can I sit in your lap for the story?”
“That is the best idea I’ve heard today.” He helped her stand and guided her onto his lap. His thighs were firm and steady underneath her. Pulling a blanket from the back of the loveseat, he wrapped it around both of them, cocooning them together.
Safety and peace, two luxuries she seldom knew, drifted over her. She leaned against his chest and listened.
“‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring. Not even a mouse.”
When she pressed her ear to his chest, the deep rumble of his voice comforted her. What would it be like to have him in her life? To have a Daddy, not just on the ranch but everywhere. Someone who wanted to be with her. To protect her from anyone who wanted to hurt her.
She’d do almost anything for that kind of life instead of moving every six months, always looking over her shoulder and wondering when she’d have to leave or if she’d misjudged and stay too long.
His voice rumbled over her, slow and deep. He paused at the good parts and let her say the good parts, like the names of the reindeer and ‘like a bowl full of jelly.’
She paid close attention to every detail of her time with him. The funny voice he used for Santa. The strength of his arms wrapped around her holding the book. The softness of the blanket and the chiseled muscles of his chest. The heat of his body pressed against hers.
She never wanted the moment to end. When he said, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night,” she felt it deep in her bones.
“Did you enjoy that story, little fox?”
She nodded her head, too scared he’d hear the pain in her voice if she spoke.
“Me too. How about you read your letter to me?”
Her heart pounded. She couldn’t do that. For some unknown reason, she’d been honest with Santa. She’d assumed they would just seal it in an envelope and mail it to the North Pole or something. How could it never have occurred to her that he would read it?
“I can’t do that. It’s for Santa.”
There were things in that letter he couldn’t know.
“I don’t think Santa will care, babygirl. I want to hear it.”
“But… but if I tell you what I wished for, I won’t get it.”
“Nice try, Foxy, but those are birthday candles and shooting stars. They don’t apply to your letter to Santa. That's okay, though. If you really don’t want to read it to me, we can do something else. How about I make us a hot chocolate?”
Relief washed over her so quickly she thought she might faint. That letter was coming with her when she left. Her Daddy could never see it.
“I can draw you a picture while I wait for my chocolate. I mean, if you want. I don’t have to or anything. I just thought you might—”
His strong fingers lifted her chin so she could meet his gaze. “I like it when you look at me, Kip. I want you to always look me in the eye when we talk, unless I tell you otherwise. Understand?”
Um… no. Making eye contact with him made her nervous. It was too easy to reveal something through her eyes. She opened her mouth to tell him she would look at whatever she wanted to, but instead, she blurted out, “Yes, Daddy.”
Sigh.
She was such a scaredy-cat sometimes.
“That’s my good girl,” he said. His voice soothed her more than any hot chocolate ever could. “Now, you draw me a picture while I fix our drinks.”
Pulling out the sketchpad Tildi had said she could keep, Kip grabbed the large bag of coloring pencils. After searching through all the colors, she found the soft plastic pencil case filled with charcoal pencils. If this was the only thing she’d ever give Trace, she wanted it to be special.
Luckily, it took Trace long enough to make the drinks for her to finish. It wasn’t her best drawing, but she liked it. Her heart quickened as he headed back to the loveseat.
“Okay, this is Daddy’s hot chocolate,” he said, placing a steaming mug on the side table next to his seat. “And here’s your hot chocolate little fox. I hope you like it.”
She sipped from her mug and tried not to let her eyes roll back in her head. It was delicious. Cocoa, maple syrup and cinnamon made a fantastic hot chocolate.
Reaching for her sketchbook, she hesitated. What if he didn’t like it? He might think it was silly. Maybe he wouldn’t get the connection at all.
“Hey,” he called to her, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Whatever your brain is telling you right now, it’s lying. Your picture is going to be fine. I’m going to love it. Not because it’s good, although I’m sure it is. I’ll treasure it because it’s from you. Now let me see.”
Gah! He was such a good Daddy. Life was so unfair! Why would life give her an incredible man who didn’t want to be a Daddy? And then turn around and give her a Daddy who wanted her, but that she couldn’t have?
Taking a deep breath for courage, she turned her sketchbook around so he could see her drawing.
For a moment, he just stared. She began to pull it back. He hated it. It was a stupid thing to draw.
Trace grabbed her wrist without taking his eye off her drawing. His eyes shifted to her, and the wonder she saw in them calmed the voices in her head.
“My foxy little girl,” he said. “Kip, this drawing is amazing! I can’t believe you drew it in such a short amount of time. Tell me about your picture, babygirl.”
Before she could speak, he pulled her back onto his lap. It was already her favorite place to be. In that moment, she forgot how to be scared. She stared into his eyes and explained exactly what her picture meant.
“Well, I thought, since you call me little fox, I’d draw a fox for you.
This fox has been running for a long time.
That’s why her fur looks more like flames.
But now, she thinks she’s found a safe place, so she’s considering jumping to it.
The only problem is there’s a wolf just off the page that you can’t see.
It might catch her before she leaps. I don’t know what’s going to happen. ”
But fear had teeth, just like the wolf, and it always found her. Always.
The fox was planning to run, and the wolf was going to catch her someday. All she could do was make sure she wasn’t around anyone else she cared about so the Wolf Rios wouldn't get them, too.