Chapter 7
Trace had never wanted to hunt someone down and end them as painfully as possible, but he did now. He was going to find whoever put that look on his little fox’s face, and when he did, that threat was going to disappear.
But first, he needed to take care of Kip. She needed a Daddy, and that Daddy was damn sure going to be him. She was as much a part of him as his skin and bones and heart. She sensed it, too. He knew it from the way she responded to him every time they were together.
It was also plain she was planning to run. He didn’t know when. He didn’t know where. He only knew she needed to trust him enough to let him help her.
At that point, he could give her the protection she needed. One thing was for sure. No one was going to hurt her. Whoever tried wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.
His jaw tightened at the anguish in her eyes. Yeah, he was changing that, too. It was time for her to know she wasn’t alone anymore. She might not know what would happen when that foxy she’d drawn had the faith enough to leap, but he did.
Holding her gaze with his own, he kept his voice low and filled with confidence.
“When that little fox in your drawing gathered the courage to leap, she had a Daddy waiting there to catch her. You see, he had a whole den of foxes to help him take care of her. And when they get through with that wolf, it will never, ever bother her again.”
Hope flared in those piercing cobalt blue eyes before it died out again. That was all right. He could hope for both of them for now.
“Let’s get you to bed, Foxy. You’ve had a long day.”
“Can we do one thing before we go to bed, Daddy?”
The hesitation in her voice gutted him. “Of course, little one. What do you want to do?”
She dropped his gaze. He gave her a minute to gather her courage. What could she want that worried her so much? He braced. With his Foxy, he never knew.
Straightening her shoulders, she gave him back her eyes. “Will you dance with me?”
Trace loosened his jaw and relaxed. “I would love to dance with you, babygirl. Let me turn on some music.”
He put on his favorite playlist. And then they danced. At first, she was tense, but slowly she loosened up in his arms. They danced fast. They danced slow. She showed him a part of her he’d never seen, carefree.
It looked so good on her, he never wanted to look any other way ever again.
Her eyes sparkled when they weren’t guarded and watching for the first sign of trouble.
And she laughed. God, he loved her laugh.
He knew if things went the way he planned, that laugh, pure joy, would be his number one addiction.
And then Callum Scott’s Flaws came on, and she melted into him.
They didn’t try to dance to the beat of the song.
They just swayed together. She clung to him, pressing against him willingly, burrowing into his chest like a small feral thing finally deciding the den was safe. That was exactly who he wanted to be.
When the song ended, he said, “It’s time for all little foxes to go to sleep. You’re sleeping in my bed. I’ll camp out on the loveseat.”
She protested. “You can’t sleep on the loveseat. You won’t fit. You take the bed and I’ll take the loveseat. That makes more sense.”
“Foxy, there’s no way I’m sleeping in that bed while you’re on the loveseat. This is one of those Daddy, because I said so moments that you’re going to go along with. It’s your choice whether you do that with a red-hot bottom or not.”
She tried to stare him down. It was as adorable as it was pointless. Eventually, that fact occurred to her, too. Leading her toward his bed, he asked, “Do you have a stuffie you want to sleep with?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have anything like that.”
Tucking her hair behind her ear, he asked. “Do you want one? Did you put that in your letter to Santa?”
Her eyes lit. “Do you think he’d bring me one?”
“Santa will deliver,” he murmured into her hair. “I guarantee it.”
She nodded, but her fingers worried the hem of the too-long sleeve. He felt the shift before he saw it, the way her breath hitched, the way her shoulders drew up like she was bracing for a blow.
“Hey.” He tipped her chin. “Where’d you go, baby? In here.” He brushed his thumb across her forehead.
“Nowhere,” she lied, too fast.
He didn’t want to, but he let it pass. She’d had a long day, work, playing with the girls, and the Advent calendar, where she’d laughed every time she’d dropped one of those tiny building blocks.
She’d radiated happiness at being part of his family. Now the light was dimming behind her eyes. Trace knew that look. Fight or flight, and it wasn’t a fight she had on her mind.
He lifted her onto the bed, tucking her in on the side closest to the fire.
Sitting down on the leather chair next to the loveseat, Trace watched and waited. He watched as she pretended to fall asleep fast, lashes fluttering like she was acting for an audience of one hundred rather than one. Santa wouldn’t be the only one keeping an eye out this season.
He banked the fire, killed the lights. He moved off the loveseat once he knew for sure she was asleep and lay down on top of the comforter on his bed beside her. Pulling her back against his chest, he locked his arms around her waist like a seatbelt. She stiffened in her sleep, but didn’t wake.
It turned out Kip wasn’t the only one who’d had a long day.
He’d been up before the sun and worked hard all morning.
Not to mention riding the fences after he’d had his talk with Boone in the barn.
He’d checked on Daisy several more times, and thankfully, she seemed to be well on the mend.
Before he realized it was creeping up on him, sleep took him hard.
He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when he woke to cold sheets. According to his clock, the time was 3:18 a.m.
The fire was low. The embers were glowing orange.
And Kip was gone.
Damnit.
Trace was out of bed and pulling on jeans before his brain fully engaged. Where had she gotten off to. And how the hell had she left the bed without waking him? One quick scan of every room in the suite confirmed she wasn’t there.
A piece of paper on his pillow caught his attention. Maybe she told him where she was going. When he reached it, fear and rage coursed through him. He could tell her hand had been shaking as she wrote the six simple words. I had to leave. I’m sorry.
It was the tear stain that pushed him over the edge. When he found her, he was going to show her just how important she was to him. Somehow, in the past six months, she’d become his everything. Then, he was going to show her she didn’t know what sorry really meant.
She couldn’t have gone far. She didn’t have a car.
If he found her walking back toward town, she wasn’t going to be able to sit down for a very, very long time.
Something flickered through the window facing the barn.
Darkness still blanketed the snow, but a faint light glowed from the window of the barn’s loft.
Not bothering with a shirt, he grabbed his hat and coat and headed out the door.
The snow crunched under his boots, refrozen by the single-digit temperature. She’d better have her coat and gloves with her.
The barn door creaked when he pushed it open.
That was fine. He wasn’t trying to sneak up on her.
Daisy shifted in her stall but stayed quiet.
Soft snorts and the smell of sweet hay and leather filled the air.
He climbed the ladder one-handed, slow, with a heavy tread to give her plenty of warning he was on his way up.
She was cross-legged on an old quilt, wearing her coat over her Christmas jammies, gloves, and boots to the side.
Even though he made enough noise to alert everyone on the ranch, she bent over her open sketchbook under a hanging lightbulb.
Colored pencils were scattered around the quilt like confetti.
He squatted down beside her without a word.
She’d drawn a bird’s eye diagram of the ranch.
It included every road, every fence line, every creek crossing.
He had no idea how she knew where those were, but she did.
Red X’s marked every gate and possible exit.
Dotted blue lines snaked from the lodge to each one, through the forests to the north, across the mountains to the west, down the Wild River to the south, and back to Wilder to the east.
She didn’t look up when his shadow fell over her, just kept filling out her map.
“I already got the saloon mapped,” she said, voice small but steady. “And my apartment. I have bug-out bags in both. One in my trunk.” Then she gave him her eyes. “I’m fast, Daddy, and I know what I’m doing. I can be gone in four minutes.”
His Little girl. He’d been right. She’d been on the run for a long time. And yet, here she was, waiting for him to find her.
He rested his elbows on his knees, knowing what he said and did in the next few minutes would make or break them. He spoke in as gentle a voice as he could manage after the scare she’d given him. “You’re in trouble, little fox.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Her sad eyes sent him to his ass. He opened his arms to her. “Come here.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
To his credit, Trace didn’t smile, but he couldn’t say the corner of his mouth didn’t twitch. She wanted to come to him so bad it hurt. He could see it in the way she gripped her hands and the longing in her eyes. “I see. And why is that?”
Had he gone too far that evening? Maybe he should have taken her home, but she wasn’t safe there. Besides, she’d had a wonderful time today, allowing her Little to run free on the ranch with the other girls. She’d blossomed.
She opened her mouth, but shut it again. Her entire body changed, tensed, and he braced. “I-I-I have to leave. I need you to take me home.” Before he could respond, she wilted. “I have to go. Please?”