Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Staring at the single googly eye still stuck to the side of his coffee cup, Grady replayed the last few days in his mind and allowed the unfamiliar weight of something dangerously close to contentment to settle in his chest. Things had shifted fast, and for once, he didn’t mind.
Becoming Sage’s Daddy had been inevitable from the moment she’d looked up at him with those bright sapphire eyes and called him by that title. And damn if it didn’t feel right.
Too right.
His chest tightened every single time she said it, not to mention his cock.
As he topped off his coffee, her voice drifted in from the living room where she sat with Rose, reading that damn dragon book for what had to be the thousandth time.
If she’d read it once, she’d read it a hundred times a day.
He didn’t care. It made him smile every time Rose responded to one of Sage’s prompts.
This morning, she was “accidentally” switching up the characters’ voices again. Each time, Rose would interrupt and correct her with that soft, growing confidence that still made his throat tighten.
The sound of his daughter laughing and talking hit him like a miracle he’d stopped believing could ever happen. It was like the dam had finally broken, and suddenly, he had his Rosie chatterbox back.
Okay, maybe not a full chatterbox yet, but she was talking more and more with every passing hour, and every single word felt like a gift he didn’t deserve.
She was fighting her battle and winning, but victory in his own battle was far from certain.
The Daddy Dom inside him had roared back to life with a vengeance the first moment Sage had looked up at him and called him Daddy.
The urge to pull her close, to correct her when she pushed those pretty Little boundaries, to protect her from her impulsive tendencies, and to claim her filled him.
Claim every inch of her, including her heart.
It had become a constant, aching temptation he could barely contain.
When she smiled at him with that mix of innocence and mischief, or whispered “Daddy” in that soft, hopeful voice, he wanted to bend her over the nearest surface and redden her bottom until she squirmed and promised to behave.
Then he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her upstairs, strip her bare, and fuck her so thoroughly she’d feel him for days.
He wanted all those things and more, things he had no right to want. Things like asking her to stay.
Grady jammed a spatula into the pan, scrambling eggs with more force than necessary.
Time to stop dreaming about things he couldn’t have and make breakfast for his girl.
If the way he was whipping the scrambled eggs was any indication, that might be easier said than done.
Examining them, he wondered if he might have just made his first soufflé.
What he needed was a bit of mental discipline.
He could be her Daddy, because Lord knew she needed one, and still keep the boundaries in place.
Self-control was one of his strengths. He could practice restraint.
Restraint was his middle name. Just not the kind of “restraint” that involved handcuffs…
which reminded him of just how much he’d love to see her handcuffed to a bedpost while he fucked her senseless.
Maybe he shouldn’t think about “restraint” right now.
After all, he didn’t have to imagine her on her knees, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes while she waited for his next command.
Wondering how soft her skin would feel under his rough hands.
Or how sweetly she would purr when she submitted to him, when she let go and gave herself over to him completely.
You’re doing a great job of “restraining” yourself, his cock mocked.
Damn it! The more time she spent in his house, the harder it became to remember why he shouldn’t want all those things. He needed to get to work and give himself something else to focus on.
“Breakfast is on the table,” he called to Sage from the kitchen.
“Aren’t you joining us?” she called back.
“Got chores to do, babygirl. The horse stalls aren’t going to muck themselves.”
Once in the barn, he grabbed a pitchfork from the wall and got to work.
Each lift of soiled hay sent a satisfying burn through his shoulders and back.
The familiar scent of straw, leather, and horses wrapped around him like an old friend.
A friend who whispered things like, “I wonder how she would like leather play,” and, “Hay is for rolling in too.”
Sage had become a part of his house—no, a part of his family.
Hell, she was quickly becoming the foundation of it.
She’d worked her magic in more ways than he wanted to admit just by being herself.
All he had to do was look at the flower gardens beginning to bud and the bird sanctuary she’d created, filled with bright, colorful birdhouses swinging in the breeze. She was turning this house into a home.
Speaking of the house, all the wooden floors shone with fresh polish, and pictures now hung on walls that had been bare for two long years. His babygirl had turned his cold, sad house back into a place of joy and warmth.
Maybe he’d need to change that middle name of his. Restraint didn’t fit anymore. More than anything else, he desired to stroke her wild red curls and tell her she was safe—that she was his.
Grady jammed the pitchfork into another pile of hay with more force than necessary, muscles burning. He had about two months. A lot could happen in two months.
His cock pounded against his zipper at just the thought of her.
Boots clicking on the wooden floor brought him back to reality.
Sage’s wild red corkscrew curls bounced with every step as she walked toward him. It was cute as fuck. She was a vision of joy, trouble, and sexiness all wrapped up in a tight pair of jeans. A lot of girls tried hard to give off those vibes. For her, it came naturally.
Those jeans hugged her dancer’s frame like she’d been poured into them. A bright teal tank top accentuated the light freckles across her shoulders. Her bright-blue eyes fixed on him with the expectant look he was already learning to recognize. She wanted something.
Jaw tight, he did his best to ignore the way his body reacted to the sight of her. His old, disciplined self was back, relaxing him and giving him clarity of thought.
“Daddy, I need to go into town,” Sage said without preamble, her voice bright and determined.
Standing there, a silence hung in the air. It was clear she was waiting for him to respond, and he was expecting her to continue.
“Okay,” he drawled. “I’ll bite. Why do you need to go into town, babygirl?” There could be any number of reasons, but he was pretty sure he knew why.
“I still want to talk to the first-grade teacher at Wilder Elementary School about the skills Rose’ll need to be ready to test into second grade this fall. She’s more than capable. And that way, our Rosie can be in class with kids her age.”
Our. The word warmed his heart.
He leaned the pitchfork against the nearest stall and wiped his hands on a rag.
She’d been telling him this for a week straight, but he was still thinking it over.
The school principal had told him that, because Rose had missed kindergarten, it would be “in her best interests” to start her in first grade.
It felt wrong, but he didn't know what to do.
Now here was his Wildfire, offering a different solution.
There was no doubt Rose was finally blossoming. She was breaking out of the shell that had kept her locked away for the past two years. The last thing he wanted was to put too much pressure on her and watch all that hard-won progress disappear.
Grady watched Sage, taking in the way she shifted from foot to foot, that hopeful, slightly nervous look in her gorgeous indigo eyes.
She was trying so damn hard to do right by his daughter.
She had proven herself already and earned his trust, but it was still hard letting someone else take that big a role in Rose’s life.
“You think she’s ready for second grade?” he asked.
Sage nodded. “She picks things up so fast. I just want to make sure we’re doing right by her.”
We.
She’d been doing that more and more lately… referring to Rose as ours instead of his. Try as he might not to read anything into it, it was getting harder and harder to beat back the dangerous hope that those words meant she wanted to stay on longer than this summer.
Rose and her needs were, it seemed, the only subject that could distract him from Sage. He rubbed a hand down his face, thinking it over.
“I want to do right by her too, Sage. I’m worried about the pressure it might put on her.”
Sage’s voice became fierce. “I’m worried about how the other kids will make fun of her because she was held back a grade.
I’m worried about how bored she’ll feel being taught things that she already knows over and over again.
I’m worried about her getting into trouble and developing a bad attitude about school. ”
Grady nodded his head. “Okay, little wildfire, I hear you loud and clear. I don’t guess it could hurt for you to talk to the teacher.”
Clapping her hands, she smiled big and bounced up and down. “Can we go now?”
Damn, he wished she wouldn’t do that when he was trying to think. Watching her dance around in those tight jeans didn’t exactly put him in the right frame of mind for thoughtful conversation.
“We’ll go soon. I haven’t finished with my chores yet.” The way Sage’s face fell, he knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Patience, at least with him, wasn’t her strong suit.
Sage glanced at the horse in the next stall and shifted on her feet again, that familiar mischievous sparkle creeping back into her eyes. He braced. There was no telling what was going on in that brilliant mind of hers.