CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
If Frankie wants to disappear, it would be easy to do in this crowd. But she won’t abandon Ronnie. My gut tells me so. If it were just me holding her in Cloverleaf Meadows, I’d be left for dead weeks ago.
“Daddy!” Ronnie tugs on my flannel sleeve. “I gotta tell you a secret.”
Talk about perfect timing. The nanny needs a reminder of why she’s here.
My knees creak as I squat beside our distraction. “What’s up, cupcake?”
She shields her mouth with a curved hand while whisper-shouting in my ear. “Frannie wants a horse.”
The redhead in mention makes a choked noise. “Um, no. Frankie does not.”
Ronnie scowls at her. “I’m telling Daddy a secret. It’s rude to listen.”
Frankie rolls her lips between her teeth, trapping what I imagine to be a throaty laugh. “Pardon me, prissy pants.”
“What’re prissy pants?”
“Look at your attitude and find out.”
I smother a chuckle. Damn, this fiery woman is bickering with my kid like they’re catty best friends. It appears the polite polish on their relationship is smoothing into a more comfortable shine.
My daughter scoffs, filling the role seamlessly. “I don’t have an attitude.”
Frankie buffs her manicure on her leather jacket. “Whatever you say.”
Ronnie purses her lips. “Are you getting your period or something?”
Another strangled sound escapes the unqualified nanny. “Excuse you?”
“Brenna at school told me that her older sister said girls get crabby when they’re on their period. Daddy,”—my little girl turns to me—“what’s a period?”
“It’s, uh. Uh…” My mouth opens and closes uselessly for too many seconds. A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. It’s too early for this discussion. I should have five more years, at the very least.
“It’s lady business,” Frankie fills in. “And for the record, I’m not due for it until the end of the month.”
Relief whooshes from me in a noisy gust. I could kiss her. But I won’t. That would be… inappropriate? It’s unclear. My thoughts are jumbled into muddled confusion.
The redhead bends low to join me at Ronnie’s level. She taps my little girl on the nose. “There’s also a thing called girl code. You can’t be calling me out like that, sis. We gotta stick together.”
Ronnie tilts her head at an exaggerated angle. “Huh?”
“I don’t want that horse,” Frankie simplifies.
My daughter blinks at her. “But you said you did.”
“That was in a dreamy sort of way. It’s like when someone wishes they could afford a fancy car or diamond necklace. That doesn’t mean they’re serious about it or, for that matter, will ever get it.”
Ronnie thinks on that for a brief moment before returning her focus to me. “Can we buy Frannie the dreamy horse? She doesn’t have any money.”
I cough out a laugh as the redhead stammers on her shock.
My gaze slides to the grulla mare in the arena.
Her color alone will draw attention and raise the bid.
The smoky gray shade is a rare variation, especially when paired with excellent conformation.
Even from this distance, I can tell this quarter horse is put together well.
Her muscular build and smooth gait speak highly of her performance too.
After another glance, I find myself grinning. “Sure, cupcake.”
“What?” Outrage rings loudly in Frankie’s voice.
“What?” I echo.
“You’re not buying me a horse.”
I rub a palm over my mouth to hide a growing grin. “We don’t know each other well, menace. But you shouldn’t try telling me what to do. It only makes me want to do it more.”
“That’s a terrible excuse and very unoriginal.”
“Doesn’t make it less true.”
“I don’t want a horse,” she reiterates.
“You do,” I counter. “Wouldn’t have voiced it aloud otherwise. Especially with little ears listening.”
“It was just an offhand comment. She’s a beautiful animal.” Frankie gestures at the grulla mare.
“Which is why she’ll make a great addition to our herd.”
“Don’t buy her for me.” But her long sigh reveals the truth of her inner desires.
“If it makes you feel better, she can be your Christmas bonus.”
She frowns. “I definitely haven’t earned that.”
“Not your decision,” I repeat her earlier phrase.
Frankie rolls her eyes. “I don’t know the first thing about horses.”
“Ronnie will teach you. She was on the back of a pony before she could walk.”
My little girl nods eagerly. “Uh-huh, yep! I’m really super good. Daddy says I can compete in rodeos next year. We can go together!”
But Frankie is still stuck on my statement. A puzzled expression twists her elegant features. “Before she could walk? How is that possible?”
“Couldn’t keep her away. It’s in her blood. That passion is powerful. I’m sure you feel the same about motorcycles. You love the thrill of a ride.”
She clucks her tongue. “Can’t really compare the two. One has a mind of its own and isn’t afraid to use it.”
“I bet you’re a natural in the saddle.” My gaze feasts on her supple curves covered in snug denim.
Her snort calls bullshit. “We’re not gonna find out.”
“Prefer bareback? That can be arranged.” I wink at her.
Frankie balks. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Acts of service is my love language. You’re in desperate need of a mount. I’m more than willing to provide one.” Am I still referring to the horse? Maybe. For whatever reason, the thought of burning money on this woman gets me hard. “But you should know that mares can be… temperamental.”
She quirks a brow at my choice in phrasing. “Guess that makes us kindred spirits.”
“Giddy up, little menace.” I tip the brim of my hat.
“Wow,” she breathes. “You’re acting wild.”
My shrug is unbothered. “Ronnie approves.”
We look to where my daughter is petting the horse’s nose through the fence. The owner must’ve smelled my money from across the ring. I smirk at the cowboy and the dollar signs in his eyes.
“She’s probably really expensive,” Frankie warns, as if that’ll dissuade me.
My gaze burns into hers, long enough to make her shiver. “Worth every penny.”