Chapter 9
Trace sat on the loveseat in front of the fire with Kip cuddled in his lap, but her body was tense, and she had a restlessness he’d hoped the emotional release of her spanking would have eased. Still, restless or not, he wanted nothing more than to end every day like this for the rest of his life.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the gift he’d made for her months ago. He took out his pocketknife and started carving on the blank side. “Let’s talk about rules, Foxy.”
She scrunched her nose. “I don’t like rules, Daddy. I don’t need them.”
He nodded and kept carving. “I’ve heard people say that before. Did you know, a long time ago, Wyoming made it illegal to have fences?”
“No. What does that have to do with rules?”
“Well, it turns out rules are a lot like fences.”
He grinned at the confused suspicion on her face. “How does that work?” she asked.
“Take our ranch. We have fences. Do you feel hemmed in?”
“No. I never even see them.”
“That’s because our fences are placed properly.
They aren’t meant to keep people in. They’re meant to keep danger out.
They’re like castle walls. Enemies couldn’t easily reach the castle because they got caught trying to breach the wall.
Their purpose was to keep people safe. When the right rules are in the right place, that’s what rules do too. ”
“I…I never thought about it that way.”
Most Littles don’t, Foxy. That’s why they have Daddies and Mommies. We keep the fences as far away as we can while still protecting our little ones.
“So, what would my rules be? Are you going to tell me what I can wear and where I can go?”
“Would that feel like a fence that’s in the right place to you?”
She shook her head. “No!”
“What if your rule was to text Daddy where you are and when you’re leaving to go somewhere else? That way, you have room to roam, but if something happens, I know where to start looking for you so I can help.”
She paused to consider his explanation, then said, “I guess that one’s not so bad. But what about clothes?”
“Well, aside from wanting you to wear them when we're not alone, my rule would be to dress according to the weather. So, no bikinis in a snowstorm. Is that a good wall?”
She grinned. “I guess.” Something dark flickered in her eyes, and her smile faded. “I don’t go out in snowstorms. Ever.”
With challenge in her voice, she asked, “Do I have to have a rule about keeping my phone charged and with me?”
“Is that wall too close or too tall?”
“What if I say yes?”
“Well, if your phone is dead or you don’t have it with you, would it be easy to text Daddy where you are and where you’re going next?”
Catching her lip between her teeth, she shook her head. “I could borrow one if I was with other people, but I’d be in trouble if I was alone. So, I guess that one’s okay, too.”
“That’s my good girl. Now, I have Daddy rules, too.”
She stared at him with wide eyes, making her look owlishly adorable. “There are Daddy rules…like rules for Daddies?”
“Of course there. Daddies need walls, too. My rules are simple. Always keep Foxy safe. Always give Foxy respect. And always, always be there when Foxy needs me.”
The frightened hope in her eyes almost broke his heart. “I like those rules. Mine are to always follow Daddy's rules, to always treat Daddy with respect, and to always be there when Daddy needs me, too.”
He couldn’t stop himself. “That’s my brave girl.” And then he kissed her.
The kiss started soft and gentle. It was meant to be a kiss that reassured her.
But then she parted her lips, and the kiss wasn’t soft anymore. She tasted like peppermint and salt and the kind of trust that didn’t come cheap. He cupped the back of her head, angled her just right, and took her mouth like he owned it. Because he did, and they both knew it.
She whimpered, her fingernails gently scraping in his cropped hair. Her Christmas jammies were in the way. Everything in him wanted to rip the buttons open and get his hands on her skin. Instead, he contented himself with running his thumb over the nipple pressed against the fabric of her top.
Her back arched. She gasped against his lips. “Trace.”
“Daddy,” he corrected, nipping her bottom lip. “Say it.”
“Daddy.” It came out broken, perfect.
He kissed her until the only sound was their breathing and the soft rustle of her pants as she rocked her sex against the bulge behind his zipper.
When Trace finally pulled back, her eyes were glazed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. Beautiful.
He wanted nothing more than to take her to the rug and do wicked things to her she would love. He needed to hear her cries of pleasure when she came on his tongue. But he had a plan, and that wasn’t part of it. Not yet.
They weren’t finished talking. Besides, he had a gift for her. Straightening her top, he resettled her on his lap. He needed to know everything so he could fix it. He liked seeing her face when they talked. Her expressions told him things her words couldn’t.
“I have something for you, little fox.”
“What is it, Daddy
“This.” After taking it from the end table drawer, he held out the thumb-sized river rock he’d had for months, waiting for the right moment to give it to her.
It was warm from his hand. The heart-shaped quartz rock was storm-cloud gray with a single white vein through the middle, zigzagging like lightning.
One side wore the Wild River Ranch brand.
Reaching into his pocket, he flipped open his pocketknife and started carving the other side while she watched, fascinated.
As he carved, he talked. “I found this the day I walked into the saloon and saw you for the first time. You were standin’ behind the bar, that fire-red hair blazin’ in the morning sun.
Prettiest girl I’d ever seen. I took findin’ a rock shaped like a heart as a sign. ” He wiped the shavings off the rock.
She lowered her gaze to his chest, but she did it wearing a smile.
When she didn’t speak, he kept talking. “I knew then and there I wanted to get to know you better. A lot better. I’m guessing the Wild River polished it for a decade or two, holdin’ on to it until you made your way to Wilder.”
When he finished carving, she traced the lines with one fingertip. “It’s beautiful.”
He pressed it into her palm and folded her fingers over it. “This is your Promise Pebble, little fox. When the shadows get too big, you squeeze this three times. I’ll know you need me, and you’ll know Daddy’s coming. No matter the hour. No matter the storm. I will always come for you.”
Her eyes went glassy. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
She squeezed the rock once. “Like this?”
“Three times, babygirl.”
She did as she was told, squeezing three times.
He kissed her knuckles. “Good girl.”
Still holding the rock, she brought her hand to her chest and held it over her heart. “I like the wall,” she whispered. “The texting thing. I always thought rules were cages, but yours feel… safe.”
“They’re supposed to.” He brushed a tear from her cheek. “What scared your brain tonight, little fox?”
“That you’d get tired of the broken parts.”
“How do we fix it together?”
She thought, lower lip caught between her teeth. “Maybe… maybe a code word? If I wake up panicking, I say ‘river’ and you wake up and hold me till it passes?”
“Done. And you text me every time you leave a building. Even if it’s just to the barn. Even if I’m standing ten feet away.”
She nodded, solemn. “I promise.”
“Are you ready to talk to Daddy about what happened?”
She stiffened in his arms. “What happened when?”
Good question. “Let’s start with tonight. When you said the shadows got too loud, what did you mean?”
She tried to look away, but he needed focus. “Eyes on me, Foxy.” She wouldn’t out and out lie to him, but she could hide things from him when she wasn’t looking at him.
She gave him back those incredible eyes. The scowl on her face could be from his words or the fact she obeyed him without hesitation. Either way, she held his gaze. What a brave Little girl she was.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Try again.” He wanted to laugh when her scowl deepened, but he managed to hold himself in check.
She didn’t say anything, but Trace was patient.
When she realized he wasn’t going to give in, she said, “It’s hard at night.
When I’m alone. The shadows get bigger, like they’re chasing me.
I needed to get away. But when I made it outside, I couldn’t make myself call for a ride.
The light was on in the barn, so I went out there to think and wound up drawing my exit plan. ”
Since the only Uber driver in Wilder was Buzzard, a.k.a. Harold Greene, he was glad she’d changed her plan. Buzzard couldn’t drive from his house to the shed in his backyard without getting lost. He had the worst sense of direction Trace had ever seen.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Sorrow and hopelessness darkened her expression. “I know you want to help, but there’s nothing you can do. I wouldn’t want you to try because then they’d try to hurt you or someone else here. I know you don’t believe me, but the best thing you can do is let me go.”
That was never going to happen. Shifting her to straddle him, he grasped her chin with gentle force, bringing her gaze to his.
"I don't know who’s after you, Foxy, but I do know whoever they are, they won’t stop bothering you unless someone makes them.
I can be that someone, if you’ll tell me what’s going on. "
“You only think that because you don’t know who he is. He’s powerful. He wants to hurt me. If I stay here any longer, he’ll think he can do that by hurting you. Or Kenzie. Or the ranch. He has a good reason for chasing me.”
There was no way he was going to accept that. “What possible reason could be good enough to explain his stalking you?”
She shook her head, refusing to give him answers.
“Tell me, Kip. Explain it.”
“No.”
Fury at the way she was binding his hand spilled over the hold he had on it. He gripped her arms and shouted, “Tell me!”
He must have shocked her because she finally gave him the answer he sought, but the last one he’d expected. “Fine! You want to know? He wants me because I killed his son.”