Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Sage stood at the kitchen counter with her back to Rose, slicing thick pieces of sourdough bread while the morning sun poured through the window like warm honey.
Her bottom still ached from the spanking her Daddy had given her the night before.
The warm, tender reminder sent tingles straight to her core with every little shift of her weight.
As soon as she had gotten up, she’d examined her rear in the mirror. A session with her “battery-operated boyfriend” had been necessary afterward.
How in the world does a sore backside make me so horny and happy?
She wasn’t sure. She only knew it did. A secret, fluttery kind of joy kept bubbling up inside her every time she remembered his big hand and that low, stern voice telling her she was his good girl… even while he made sure she was very sorry for what she’d done.
Rose’s gaze heated a spot in the center of her back.
Her Rosie-girl sat there, watchful and quiet as always, but something had definitely shifted in the last week.
Her sweet girl was silent no more, as she worked at trusting the words in her own mouth again.
Sage’s back was to her for this very reason, to encourage her to use her voice.
Sage wouldn’t say she was a chatterbox. Not yet. But she soon would be. Her heart did a happy little flip every single time she coaxed a word or phrase out of her once silent charge.
“Rose, honey,” Sage called over her shoulder, keeping her voice light and cheerful even though her bottom gave another warm throb, “do you want grape jelly or strawberry jam on your toast this morning? You have to tell me with words, remember? No pointing or nodding today. Those are your pa’s rules. ”
Rose had pulled her miniature rocking chair into the kitchen to watch Sage make breakfast. The soft creak of Rosie rocking her wooden chair told Sage the girl was anxious.
Grady had laid down the law at breakfast yesterday after Rose tried to bolt from the table without finishing her eggs.
He told her, “Once you’re in that chair, little miss, you stay put until your plate is clean.
No exceptions. And I want you to answer with your words when Miss Sage asks you a question. ”
Sage smiled to herself, biting her lip and silently answering, Yes, Daddy. I remember.
Even thinking about his firm tone made her tummy do flips. She loved it when he got all strict and growly. It made her feel Little and safe and a tiny bit naughty all at the same time.
She busied herself with taking a butter knife from the drawer, all the while hoping her brave girl would answer.
“Strawberry jam… please,” Rose answered, her voice still husky from disuse but growing stronger every day. Every syllable was more beautiful than a whole choir of angels singing.
Sage grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. She turned just enough to wink over her shoulder at Rosie. “Strawberry jam it is. Good job, sweetheart. That sounded real pretty.”
Rose’s cheeks pinkened up adorably, but she didn’t duck her head the way she had a few days ago. Instead, she picked up her fork and poked at her scrambled eggs. Where there had been only sadness before, Sage was beginning to see more and more joy in everything Rose did, even eating eggs.
She is my heart. Sage didn’t think she’d ever get tired of seeing Rosie’s smile. So, what was she going to do at the end of the summer, if Rose didn’t need her anymore?
Nope.
Her brain shut that down immediately. No need to worry about something that would happen that far down the road. Grady had said they would discuss it when the time came. She would just have to trust him.
The screen door banged open, and Grady’s boots thumped across the floor.
Sage’s stomach did that familiar happy swoop it always did when he walked into a room.
He had it all. Tall, broad-shouldered, and smelling like the most masculine man alive.
If he could bottle that scent of his, he’d make a million dollars.
He dropped a kiss on the top of Rose’s wavy hair, then moved behind Sage, sliding one big hand around her waist. Rose giggled when he pressed a slow, warm kiss to the side of Sage’s neck.
“Mornin’, Wildfire,” he murmured against her skin, voice low enough that only she could hear. “You smell like vanilla and trouble. My two favorite things.”
She leaned back into his solid chest for just a second, savoring the heat of him and allowing his big hands to lift her against him. This had been their routine for the past week and had become her favorite part of every morning.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, Daddy,” she whispered back, her voice a little breathy. “But right now I’m busy making sure Rose eats her breakfast like a big girl.”
Grady chuckled, the deep sound rumbling through her and straight down between her thighs. “Good. Because I’ve got plans for us later.”
He gave her hip a slow, possessive squeeze that made her tummy flutter before he let go and sat down in a chair at the breakfast table. Turning to Rose, he asked, “How’s my best girl this morning? You want to join me over here at the table?”
Rose dutifully took the plate off her lap and moved from the rocking chair to a place across from Grady. She looked up at him, eyes bright and proud. “Good, Pa. Sage is making strawberry jam toast.”
Grady’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise and pleasure. Sage sat beside Rose, placing her own plate and a platter of toast on the table. The look he gave Sage across the table said, “We’re winning, babygirl,” and her heart melted into a warm puddle right there on the seat.
“I see,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “You tell her what you wanted with words?”
Rose nodded, then caught herself and said clearly, “Yes, Pa. I said strawberry jam.”
Grady’s grin could have lit up the whole house. “That’s my brave girl. I’m real proud of you.”
Sage had to bite her lip to keep from beaming like an idiot. This man. The way he loved his daughter, the way he looked at her when she spoke, the way he looked at Sage when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. It made her feel soft and Little and cared for all at once.
She reached over to the platter and placed a piece of strawberry toast on Rose’s plate first and then put one on hers.
With her bottom still carrying the faint, tender ache of last night’s spanking, every little throb reminded her exactly who she belonged to.
There was nowhere else in the world she wanted to be.
Conversation stayed easy and light between them. She kept her questions sneaky on purpose, trying to coax full sentences out of Rose. “Rose, honey, when we go out to the garden after breakfast, do you want to plant the dahlias or the zinnias first? Pick one and tell me why.”
Rose chewed thoughtfully, her little brow furrowed in concentration. “Zinnias. They’re pretty colors and the butterflies like them.”
Sage’s heart did a happy little flip in her chest. She beamed at Rose so wide her cheeks hurt. “Perfect choice, sweetheart. Zinnias, it is!”
Each word Rose spoke felt like a tiny miracle, and Sage wanted to scoop her up and spin her around the kitchen, but she knew better than to overreact. Instead, she just smiled wider, the lovely warmth filling her chest.
After the dishes were cleared, the three of them headed out to the garden beside the house.
The scent of turned earth and fresh-cut grass filled the air, and the sun warmed her shoulders.
Grady had mentioned something about working with a temporary worker named Chet, but he lingered for a while, watching over them with that quiet, protective look in his eyes that always made her tummy flutter.
She knelt beside Rose in the dirt, her gloves way too big for her hands. Holding up two packets of seeds, she asked, “Okay, little gardener. Pink zinnias or yellow ones? You have to pick one and tell me why.”
Rose studied them very seriously, then pointed to the pink packet. “Pink. Because they match my favorite shirt.”
Sage laughed softly. “Pink it is. You’re getting really good at this, you know that?” If Sage’s heart swelled any more, it would be too big for her body.
She’s blooming right in front of me, faster than any flower, and I get to be here for every single petal.
Grady stood nearby, arms crossed over his broad chest, still watching them with that steady, intense gaze.
As severe as his look was, it always came with a smile.
Sage glanced at him, and her cheeks heated.
Even when she was covered in dirt and wearing oversized gardening gloves, somehow, he made her feel pretty.
It took all she could do not to beg him to call her his good girl right then.
But she knew that at this point, they had to be careful around Rose.
If Rose felt that Sage was trying to replace her mother, there was no telling how she might respond.
Sage focused on the flowers instead, but it was getting harder and harder not to throw herself in his arms and kiss him silly.
In her heart, she knew she was deeply in love with him.
They worked together for almost an hour, Rose’s voice growing more confident with every decision.
When they finished, Sage dusted dirt off her knees and stood.
“You did such a wonderful job. How about after lunch, we drive into town and pick out a few more birdhouses? You can choose the blue one or the yellow one for the front porch.”
Rose’s eyes lit up. “Blue.”
Sage tapped the tip of her nose. “Words, sweetheart.”
Rose laughed, and it sounded like bells tinkling in the wind. Rose was beginning to laugh regularly, a sign of true progress. Turning to Grady, Sage saw the same pride and joy she felt fill his eyes.
“Blue,” Rose practically shouted. “I want the blue birdhouse, please.”