8. Piper
Piper
I didn’t know why the grumpy asshole thought the room wouldn’t be enough for me; the whole property was beautiful. Full of charm and real-feeling fixtures, instead of the tacky, overly modern ranch that Pack Adamar had chosen to stay at.
Thanks to my exhaustion and the surprisingly comfortable bed, I slept like a corpse. The worn quilt was clearly handmade and had been well-loved over the years. I knew that real ranchers got up early, so the moment my eyes opened, I darted out of bed.
Putting on my gingham dress, I frowned. My lack of clothing was going to be an issue, but I was rather fond of the scent clinging to the T-shirt I had slept in. As I had drifted off to sleep, I’d racked my brain, trying to place exactly what it was.
Zeke was an anomaly, and I wanted to know more. It was impossible not to like him. He was basically a giant golden retriever who clearly didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
All the members of Pack Blackwood had been welcoming enough. Clayton had been a little aggressive, but something told me that was simply his personality.
The sun was just starting to rise, so I splashed some water on my face and twisted my hair into a messy bun to get it out of my way.
Padding down the stairs to the kitchen, where I could hear voices drifting from, I found Dakota standing at the burner, flipping something in a frying pan as he chatted with the little girl sitting at the table.
“Morning, pretty girl!” he greeted me, flipping a few slices of bacon. “Come take a seat, and I’ll rustle up some breakfast for you.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, taking a seat next to the little girl who was looking at me with wide eyes. “Hello! I’m Piper. What’s your name?”
I already knew her name, of course, but I wanted to ask and greet her.
“I’m Maisie Rae,” she whispered, looking at me cautiously, like she was unsure what to make of me.
She was adorable, with chubby cheeks, bright blue eyes, and blonde curls that were hanging wildly around her face.
Her voice had a little country lilt that had me wanting to squeal from the cuteness of it.
Did she take after her mother? Her white-blonde curls didn’t quite match any of the alphas, and I was curious, though I knew better than to ask. I doubted they would need me if her mother was around, and the last thing I needed was to stick my foot in my mouth within hours of starting my new job.
“Such a pretty name!” I cooed, as Dakota placed a small plate full of chopped bacon, toast, and scrambled eggs in front of the toddler. She started nibbling on her food, but her eyes kept returning to me every few seconds.
Sometimes children just needed a little time to warm up to someone. A new person was probably highly unusual, as she wasn’t in school yet and lived in a pretty remote area.
“So today we can take it easy, get to know each other, and I’ll show you around the ranch,” Dakota said as he placed a plate in front of me.
“Thank you,” I replied, picking up a fork and smiling at Maisie, who was still watching me intently. As soon as I took the first bite, she nodded happily, returning her focus to her own food.
Dakota joined us at the table, his own plate in hand. “The first job of the day is going to be the chickens!” he declared, beaming at Maisie. “That’s this little monster’s favorite. She’s the best egg collector.”
“How many chickens do you have?” I directed the question to Maisie, who smiled.
“Lots! Like hundreds and hundreds!”
My eyes shot to Dakota, who was smirking. Hundreds? I thought they owned a cattle ranch, not a chicken ranch… Did chickens even have ranches?
“We have about thirty chickens who lay eggs—our little lady has a habit of over-exaggerating just how big her little flock is.”
I nodded, placated by his answer. Thirty was a lot of chickens, but definitely more manageable than hundreds.
“Do you collect all the eggs?” I asked.
Maisie nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I has a basket.”
“Can I come with you to collect the eggs? I would love to see!”
Dakota said nothing, sitting back and watching us with a smile on his face.
“You can come. I has little hands, so Daddies help me pick up all the eggies.” She held out her tiny hand, showing me just how little her fingers were.
I nodded seriously. “Yes, the daddies have big hands and can pick up a lot of eggs!”
Across from us, Dakota snorted but quickly covered his mouth with his hand. “We’ve got a lot of big things,” he muttered around his mouthful of bacon.
His words took a moment to settle in, but when they did, my face heated furiously. Throwing him a withering gaze while he did his best to contain his laughter, I turned back to Maisie.
The little girl was distracted by her food, so we ate in comfortable silence for a few moments while I pointedly avoided looking at Dakota.
It was hard enough ignoring the cute toddler’s annoyingly hot fathers, without them making innuendos.
I had never been around chickens.
Cooked chickens? Sure, they were delicious, and I was a huge fan.
The living creatures, on the other hand? They freaked me out.
It was the pecking and the beady little eyes that did it for me.
“You take this,” Maisie instructed, handing me a basket as we headed for the coop. Dakota was with us, but he was hanging back slightly, seemingly happy to watch me with Maisie. He probably wanted to ensure I wasn’t completely inept before he left his child with me, but was being polite about it.
I was thankful it was him and not Clayton.
“Chickens!” Maisie called out excitedly as she entered the coop, stroking one of them with a big smile on her face.
I refused to show my unease, since children picked up on that stuff so easily.
“So, what do we need to do, Miss Maisie?” I asked.
“Collect eggs.” She pointed to the far wall where there were several little cubbies. Even from the other side of the coop, I could see clear as day that several of them had eggs in them.
A few of them even had chickens sitting in them.
Gingerly, I walked across the coop—my strappy sandals were far from the optimal footwear for being in a chicken coop, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.
“You get tall ones?” Maisie asked sweetly.
Several of the cubbies were at shoulder height for me, so for the little girl, they would be impossible to reach.
“I can get those, sweetheart,” I assured her.
With a confidence that could only have come from doing this time and time again, Maisie started grabbing one egg at a time, gently placing them in the basket I was holding between us.
Following her lead, I picked up eggs from the taller cubbies. There were probably twenty eggs overall. They didn’t consume that many eggs every day, did they?
When Maisie reached a box where one of the chickens was roosting, she didn’t move on to the next one. No, this apparently fearless child reached right under the grumpy chicken and pulled out an egg.
“The chickens are so friendly!” I said, beaming down at her.
She nodded. “Sometimes they peck.”
Fuck.
I didn’t want to be pecked by a darn chicken.
But there was one resting in the cubby at the top that Maisie would never be able to reach.
Fearless. I needed to be fearless.
Approaching the bird cautiously, I gently slipped my hand underneath it, watching intently for any sign that the pissy poultry may try to peck me.
Thankfully, the chicken gods were looking on me favorably, because the bird seemed downright uninterested as I slipped two eggs out from underneath her.
“We gotsta wash the eggs because they’re poopy!” Maisie declared with a grin.
Poop eggs.
I wasn’t a total moron—I knew eggs came from the rear end of a chicken. But knowing it and physically touching it were two very different things.
“Yep, shall we wash them now?” I asked, my voice a little tighter than I intended.
Dakota was chuckling from the coop entrance. I couldn’t let it get back to the guys that I was freaked out by the notion of poop eggs—Clayton would never let me live that down.
This city girl was going to make the best of the situation and make sure these darn poop eggs sparkled.
When Dakota found us out back at the laundry line, I had just finished pinning up the last of the bedsheets to dry. Maisie sat beside the empty laundry basket, fiddling with a handful of clover and a few of the leftover clothespins, quietly singing to herself as she played.
“Okay, pretty girl, now that you and our little lady have collected the eggs and done a bunch of chores around the house, I think it’s time to show you some more of the ranch,” Dakota beamed.
“Can we show her horses?” Maisie asked in a sweet voice, abandoning the flowers and clothespins.
“They’re getting their new shoes on today, so maybe later?
” He glanced at me before explaining, “This little one loves the horses. We only have a few, but they’re her favorite after the chickens.
Miss Emmy is going to stop by for lunch, though, so we should probably get moving.
You ladies had a busy morning. Time really flies when you’re busy! ”
“Yay! Miss Emmy!” Maisie shouted, jumping happily on the spot. Maisie grabbed my hand and started pulling me back toward the house. Apparently, she was a big fan of Emmy’s. Not that I blamed her. Emmy, Evelyn’s granddaughter, and I had become fast friends during my short stay at the diner.
That, along with Maisie grabbing my hand, made me smile. It meant she was warming up to me.
I’d found that children tended to be open-minded, just needing that initial time to warm up to someone.
Apparently, my egg-retrieving skills meant I was good enough in her eyes.
Once we were inside and our shoes were off, Dakota turned to me. “I’m going to go grab some tools, I need to fix a leaky faucet in the downstairs utility room, so how about you girls rustle up some lunch for you and Miss Emmy?”
He was leaving me to my own devices with Maisie.
It was a test.
He wasn’t being obvious about it, but I could tell.
“Bye, Daddy!” Maisie declared excitedly, waving frantically as he left through the back door.
“Okay, Miss Maisie, what do you want for lunch?” I asked, picking her up and popping her onto the counter so she was a little closer to eye level. It was early still, but I had been warned that Maisie liked an early lunch.
“Mac and cheese?” she asked sweetly.
I cocked my head to the side, deep in thought. Mac and cheese was a staple in most children’s diets.
“Why don’t I look and see if we have all the ingredients?”
Her head cocked to the side in confusion, and it was so darn sweet, I had to resist the urge to squeeze her. “Do we have a box?”
A box? Did she mean boxed mac and cheese?
“Let me have a look and see what we have,” I said, glancing over the contents of the fridge and a few of the cabinets, while Maisie swung her legs around happily.
Thankfully, they were decently stocked.
Spotting several heads of broccoli, I suggested, “How about I make some extra cheesy macaroni with cheesy broccoli and chicken tenders?”
Mac and cheese was amazing, but nutritionally, it could be somewhat lacking. The chicken tenders would add a little protein, and a vegetable was always a good addition.
Maisie’s eyes widened. “Cheesy broccoli?” she asked, her tone one of amazement.
I nodded, pulling a few blocks of cheese from the fridge, as well as a gallon of milk. “Do you want to be my helper?”
Her nod was so enthusiastic, she almost fell off the counter. When I went to steady her, her baby powder scent that clung to most children hit me, comforting and sweet.
Thirty minutes later, the mac and cheese was bubbling in the oven and was about ready to be dished when Emmy came walking into the kitchen carrying several bags, a large smile on her face.
“Well, hello there! Something smells good.”
“Emmy!” Maisie squealed, running over to hug her.
“How are you, Maisie? Being good for your daddies?” Emmy asked.
“The bestest!” She nodded enthusiastically.
“I’m just about to dish if you’re hungry,” I offered, pulling the mac and cheese out of the oven.
“I’ve got to get back to the diner, but I wanted to bring you some clothes,” she grimaced. “I get not wanting to go back for your things.”
I glanced at Maisie, who was blissfully unaware of our conversation.
“Yeah, it’s not an ideal situation, but I can’t thank you enough for this,” I said, looking at the bags.
“They’re nothing fancy,” Emmy warned me.
I snorted lightly. “Like I care about that! Zeke said you were cleaning out your closet.”
Emmy nodded. “I still live in my childhood bedroom, and it’s getting a little overcrowded. I swear this was the perfect opportunity to declutter a bit.”
“Well, I’m glad my misfortune helped.”
As I spoke, I started cutting into the mac and cheese. Maisie had shown me where her pink princess plates were, so I dished her a small pile, along with some broccoli and three small chicken tenders.
Before she left, Emmy pulled me into a hug, whispering in my ear to stay strong before she hurried back to the diner for her shift.
Maisie was munching away on her food as I passed back into the kitchen area, grabbing a plate and starting to pile it high for myself.
The door opened once again, and assuming it was Emmy, I turned toward the sound with a huge smile on my face. “Couldn’t resist—Oh, hey, Clayton.”
The grumpy alpha was standing in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of him.
“Daddy!” Maisie squealed, clambering down from her chair and dashing across the room, jumping into his arms and squeezing him tightly.
“Hey, little bug,” he greeted, the deep timbre of his voice was far too appealing to belong to such a grouch.
“We’re eating!” Maisie declared.
“I can see that.”
“Are you eating with us?” she asked sweetly.
There was no missing the uneasy way Clayton’s eyes darted to me. From my limited understanding of their family dynamics, Clayton was rarely home during the day, so either this was an anomaly, or he was checking on me.
“Here, this is for Daddy C,” I said, padding over to the table and putting the plate I had intended for myself down. “How about you guys eat while I put away all the clothes Emmy gave me?”
Maisie paused, her little brain deep in thought for a moment before eventually nodding, toddling back over to the table, stabbing one of her broccoli florets and shoving it unceremoniously into her mouth.
“Do you have time for lunch?” I asked softly.
Clayton nodded, and I took that as a good sign as I quickly grabbed the bags and got the hell out of there, leaving the pair to have a little daddy-daughter lunch date.