Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Although he wasn’t going to let either of them eat candy for dinner. That was just asking for trouble.
What could he say to make it better? He placed his hand on her bedroom door, surprised when it moved. Had she not shut it properly? He was about to call out when he heard her talking.
Who was she speaking to?
Actually, it wasn’t any of his business. She could talk to whoever she liked. There was just something about her voice though . . .
“So, Mr. Pickles, I made a right mess of things. I probably should have told Jeb that I couldn’t cook. But I thought I could just wing it. Turns out crackers and cheese are not acceptable food groups like we thought.”
Mr. Pickles?
Who was that? And why was her voice all high?
Despite knowing that he shouldn’t do it, he pushed the door open further and peeked in. She was sitting on the floor, dressed in a pair of shortie pajamas. They were a bright neon pink that made him wince. He noticed her bandaged foot was out in front of her.
Shit.
He should have checked her foot before she’d said goodnight and headed off to bed.
But who was this Mr. Pickles? Surprise filled him as she held up a stuffed alligator toy.
That was Mr. Pickles?
Okay, in hindsight maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise. She carried candy in her pockets. She enjoyed playing on swings. Not that any of those things really meant much. But with the toy she was talking to . . .
Was she a Little?
Did she know she was a Little?
And how would she feel if she discovered that he was a Daddy Dom?
Perhaps that was something best to keep to himself.
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m bored,” Wyatt said.
“Me too.”
They were sitting outside on the porch swing, staring out at the scenery.
She hadn’t slept all that well and could feel a headache threatening.
“What do you like to do around here for fun, sugar?” she asked.
“There’s nothing fun about this place,” Wyatt muttered.
“No? You don’t like the ranch?” she asked.
He shrugged his small shoulders. “I used to.”
“Yeah, what changed?”
“Mama died.”
Oh hell. She knew that feeling. “My life changed when my mama died too.”
“What did she die of?” he asked.
“Cancer. What about yours?”
“Car accident.”
“That’s rough.” She guessed she’d been prepared. Well, not really. Everyone had kept telling her that Mama would get better. And she’d been too young to realize that they were all lying.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever forgiven her father and brothers for that. It wasn’t until Granny arrived that she’d been told the truth.
“How old were you?” Wyatt asked.
“Eight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too, sugar. Me too. Well, what did you like to do before your mama died?”
“I liked visiting the horses.”
Awesome. Of course he had. The one thing she really didn’t want to do.
“Are you all right?” Wyatt asked her.
She breathed out a sigh. “I am, sugar. I just have a small fear of horses.”
“Really? But horses are awesome.”
“Yeah. I guess I just had a bad experience with one. Maybe we can do something else? Your dad wanted us to read a book.”
Wyatt sighed. “Being suspended is way more boring than I thought it would be. I miss my friends.”
“Hey, what am I?” she asked.
“It’s not the same,” he told her.
“Ouch. That hurts.”
“Can we go to the playground?” Wyatt asked.
“I don’t have a car. But I wonder if we could build our own swing.”
His face lit up. “Yeah?”
“Sure! How hard can it be?”
Chapter Fifteen
Turns out that it was far harder than she’d realized.
They’d found bits of wood in a shed, but she didn’t have any gloves with her, so now she had a splinter in her hand.
Actually, there might be more than one. But she was choosing not to think about that. She’d wrapped her hand up as best she could and they’d finally found a smooth piece of wood.
Then she’d had to figure out how to secure the wood to the rope that they’d also found in the shed.
Finally, she’d managed to drill some holes in the wood. It had taken her a while but she’d made the holes big enough to slide the rope through and tied some big knots underneath.
“And now all we have to do is secure it to the tree,” she said. “Good choice of tree by the way.”
“Mama always said she’d like a swing in this tree,” Wyatt told her.
“Then that’s what we’re gonna do. I’m just not sure how. Maybe I’ll climb it with the rope tied around my waist. Then I can drag the swing up and tie it over the branch.”
Wyatt gave her a skeptical look. “I don’t know, Casey.”
“Why? I’m a great climber.”
“Yeah, but that’s a long way up and you’re hurt.”
Wyatt had been worried about her hand and her foot all day. But she was fine. Sure, they were both throbbing. And she was a bit concerned about how to get the splinter out of her hand . . . but that would sort itself out.