Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 40942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
“Then stop messing around with her, boy.”
“I’m not. I’m doing my best to stay away from her.”
Grandpa Jack grunted. “Yeah? You think that’s the best solution, do you?”
“What would be your solution?” he asked.
“Marry the girl.”
Stafford spat out his mouthful of coffee. “What? Are you serious?”
“Yeah, boy, I’m serious. Put a ring on her finger and marry that girl before she gets snatched up by someone else. How she’s still single, I don’t know. But you marry that girl and you get down on your knees and thank God, and me, every day of your life after. I don’t like having an idiot for a grandson. Got me?”
“It’s not that simple. I’m not in a position to marry anyone.”
“Bullshit. If people waited until they were in a good position, no one would get married. When I married your grandmother, we lived on this ranch in a rundown shack. It didn’t even have indoor plumbing. I built this ranch with my bare hands and her help. Life isn’t perfect and you can’t wait for it to be.”
“I’m not what she needs, Grandpa.”
“Why? Because she’s a Little?”
“Yes,” Stafford said.
“So?”
“I’m not a Daddy Dom.” He didn’t think this really needed to be said.
His grandfather snorted. “Then figure out how to give her what she needs.”
“I should just become a Daddy Dom for her?” Stafford asked.
Actually.
Wasn’t the worst idea.
“I don’t know how to do that,” he said.
“You really think you’d have to change yourself? That you don’t know what you’re doing? That you aren’t a Daddy Dom? Boy, you’re protective, you’re caring, and you’re bossy as fuck. Pretty sure it will come to you easier than you think. Those times she’s slipped and her Little has come out have you been horrified, disinterested, angry at her?”
“What? Of course not!”
“What did you feel?”
This was an odd conversation to have with his grandfather, but Stafford thought back to his feelings when Blakely had let small pieces of her Little show. It didn’t happen that often.
Unfortunately.
Huh.
“I want to help her. To take care of her. That’s all I want. For her to be happy.”
“Then all these obstacles you’re creating are dumb, boy. They’re things you could truly get over if you wanted to. You’ve just got to want that girl badly enough to do what needs to be done.”
Shit.
Could he be what she needed? Was it as simple as wanting to take care of her? Wanting her to be happy?
It wasn’t like her Little scared him off. In fact, he thought it was cute.
And hadn’t he already taken care of her when she was in Little headspace?
Everyone started somewhere, right?
“Do you know where she is right now?” Grandpa Jack asked.
“What? I assumed she was upstairs, asleep.”
“Boy, you know nothing.” Grandpa Jack kept shuffling away.
Was that all he was going to say?
For fuck’s sake.
“Where is she?” Stafford demanded.
Jack turned and eyed him seriously.
“She’s not here?” Worry filled him. “She didn’t ask me if she could leave.”
“So she’s a prisoner here, now? Boy, you have no idea how to treat a woman, do you?”
“Grandpa,” he warned. “Where is she?”
“I tell you, then you have to promise that you will stop all this nonsense. No more avoiding her. If you’ve decided you want her for good, then I’ll tell you.”
“I promise.”
“All right. She’s at some speed-dating Daddy night at The Wishing Well in Wishingbone. Have fun with that, boy.”
14
Blakely stood outside The Wishing Well.
Just go inside.
Why couldn’t she go inside?
Maybe because this was silly. Who’d ever heard of a Daddy Speed-Dating Night?
When Grandpa Jack mentioned it this morning, she’d actually thought he was joking.
But he’d convinced her that it was real and that she should go.
That she shouldn’t hide at the ranch, wasting her life away.
You only get one life, girly. Live it. Go for what you want. Grab onto it and don’t let go.
Good advice.
The only issue was that the thing she wanted most, she couldn’t have.
Well, maybe there was a really nice Daddy waiting for her inside. Who wanted a Little who was a crappy magician, but an excellent housekeeper.
Hmm. Excellent might be a stretch. But she was good.
Was that really all she had going for her?
Blakely glanced down at herself with a sigh. She hadn’t had much choice about what to wear. So she had on her lucky black jeans . . . that actually weren’t very lucky. A lacy purple top with a black singlet underneath. And her purple boots. She’d topped it all off with a lightweight black cardigan.
“Sooo, you planning on standing out here all night or are you going to come in?” a female voice asked from behind her.
“Kiesha,” a masculine voice warned.
“What? It’s cold out here and while Wishingbone is safe, I don’t think she should stand out here on her own, should she?”
“That’s probably true,” the man agreed. “Miss? Are you okay? Are you going into The Wishing Well?”