“To see Doc.”
“No. We brought them back with us. I remember putting them in your case on the shelf, where they are supposed to be kept when you’re not using them.” He gave her a stern look.
She bit her lip, looking up at the shelf. The case was there, but not the glasses.
“Maybe the bad fairies stole them,” she suggested, bouncing up and down slightly, pleased with herself for thinking of that.
“Bad fairies, huh? Or maybe they were left somewhere by one naughty girl who can’t seem to keep track of her possessions?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
He crouched in front of her. “It’s okay, baby. Daddy knows you don’t mean to keep losing them.”
Well, maybe there was a part of her that wouldn’t mind saying goodbye to them permanently. She hated wearing them. But she hated the headaches more.
“Drink your water,” he commanded.
She wrinkled her nose at the sippy cup. “Can I have juice, Daddy?”
“Nope, you know Doc wants you to drink more water. Drink. Or you’ll be sitting on a sore bottom and still having to drink your water.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Watch the attitude, young lady.”
She blew her tongue out at him. He raised one eyebrow, giving her the look. The look meant she’d pushed him too far. Uh-oh. She stood. She had no idea where she was planning on running to, but before she could move, he’d grabbed hold of her. He pulled a chair out from the small dining table, then put his foot up on the seat before tipping her over his wide thigh.
Before she could protest, he had delivered a flurry of smacks to her ass. They weren’t particularly hard. More to catch her attention than anything else. But by the time he’d placed her back on her feet, her bottom stung.
She reached around to rub and he crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a pointed look. “I wouldn’t, baby girl. Not unless you want to spend some time in the corner.”
Nope, she didn’t want that. She pouted but put her arms back at her sides. “That was mean, Daddy.”
“Sticking your tongue out at Daddy and giving him sass wasn’t very nice, either, was it?” he countered.
She shook her head, sniffling. “No. Sorry, Daddy.”
He ran his hand over her head. “I love you, little girl. I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
She threw herself into his arms. “Me too.” There was nowhere else she’d rather be. Bear took such good care of her. He was her daddy, her best friend, her lover and protector. When she’d decided to call her parents and let them know she was all right, he’d stood right next to her, one arm wrapped around her. And when her mother had told her never to call again, that she was dead to them, he’d held her as she’d cried.
“Tell me what you’re drawing,” he said, glancing down at the picture.
“Guess,” she replied with a grin.
There was silence and she had to hold back a giggle. Poor Daddy, he had no idea what he was looking at. And she liked to tease him sometimes.
“Well, Daddy? What is it?”
“It’s a masterpiece, is what it is.” He leaned in and kissed the top of her head.
She giggled. “You always say that.”
“We’re going to need a bigger fridge to put all your masterpieces on.” He took the picture from her and hung it up proudly. In the beginning, she’d been embarrassed that someone might see. Her Little side was just for Daddy. But very few people ever came into their cabin, and those that had seen the pictures she’d drawn hadn’t even blinked.
And as she’d gotten to know everyone on the ranch, she’d grown less worried that they might judge or ridicule her. Every man here seemed intent on making her feel as comfortable as possible. They were also all overly protective.
But that was kind of sweet. Except for when they tattled on her.