Chapter Ten

SHE HOPPED DOWN FROMthe truck and turned to get her travel mug and backpack. "Thanks for the ride, Mr. Pendleton."

"You're welcome, sweetheart, but I told you to call me Curt. All this mistering makes me feel ancient."

"Sorry, boss."

He chuckled. "You just can't do it, can you?"

"No, I work for you, and my Nana drilled into me a long time ago to address the man who signs your paycheck as sir or mister, and never by his first name. I guess that stuck."

"Sam's the boss, Krista."

"I know, but you give him weekly progress reports, which, for me, is as good as a paycheck."

"Okay, we'll stick with boss, just no more mister. See you at three for your ride?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

She slammed the door and waved him off toward the stables before running up the steps.

Before she opened the front door, movement on the porch drew her eye to the right. When she glanced fully that way, she froze in utter astonishment.

One of her favorite parts of Sam's big wraparound front porch was the swing. It swayed, which wasn't unusual because there always seemed to be a cross breeze blowing any time of day. It wasn't the wind, today, however, but a sleepy Dallas who'd apparently been taking an afternoon nap that she disturbed. Too lazy to get up and come greet her, he yawned, and his tailed thumped with enthusiasm at seeing her. But that wasn't the surprising part. What stunned her was who was sleeping at the opposite end. Curled in a ball about a tenth of the size of his swing companion was Morris.

Holy cow!

If someone had told her three weeks ago that her surly ten-pound cat would get along so well with Sam's giant dog that they'd be napping together six-inches apart on a porch swing, she'd have call them a liar. Especially since it took her two days to coax Morris out from under the bed in the beginning, and she'd had to use real tuna as a bribe to do that.

But as the days passed, things changed. Morris would sit on the back of the couch, the highest point in the room, and watch the dog's every move. A few days later, if Dallas got up, Morris would follow him. Before long, every time she saw Dallas, the orange tabby was a few paces behind.

When she mentioned it to Sam, he'd noticed, too. "Either your cat has a crush on my dog, or he's stalking him."

She'd laughed and told him he was being silly, but she'd also seen Morris drinking out of the big dog's water bowl and nibbling on his Kibbles and Bits—especially the bits. And once, when she'd walked into the kitchen, they'd been sniffing one another. She thought they were warming up to each other, but this was a huge leap forward in dog-and-cat relations at the Longleaf Ranch.

With a laugh, she said, "How about an after-school snack, you guys? I'm starved."

Dallas, who was fluent in all human words related to food, got up, where he hadn't before, and hurried toward her, Morris, who'd barely cracked an eye at her arrival, only a few steps behind.

"You two sure know how to make a girl feel loved."

When she opened the door, they bolted in ahead of her. She followed them to the kitchen and got treats for both of them. Then she stuck her head in the fridge and tried to decide what she could throw in the crock pot and have ready by six when Sam usually got home and she was done riding.

As she perused her choices, she heard the hum of voices. Since rarely was anyone here during the day, she went to investigate. The door to Sam's office was ajar, and his deep baritone couldn't be missed. He was on the phone, and she didn't want to disturb him so turned back down the hall.

"I wish you hadn't done that, Hal. It just stirred up painful memories."

This piqued her interest, and even though she knew she shouldn't, she stopped and listened.

"These were gifts. She wanted you to have them. You should keep them."

He lapsed into silence again, but his next words made her heart ache at the pain in his voice.

"Yeah, I still miss her too."

Who? her mind screamed in question. There was another gap in the conversation she was trying to piece together from only hearing one side.

"Right. I will. You should drop by the ranch while you're out this way."

A brief pause.

"Okay, I understand. Good to hear from you. My love to Andrea."

An even briefer pause before he ended it with, "Yeah, bye now."

The stillness of the house was oppressive after that as she stood there wondering, a million questions spinning in her head. Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass filled the air.

Instinctively, she rushed forward, pushing the door all the way open. But she didn't enter, seeing the man she was quickly falling in love with standing in the middle of the room, eyes closed, head down, jaw clenched tight, surrounded by shards of broken glass. At his feet, face down, was a large ivory picture frame—11"x14" at least.

"Sam?"

His head swung her way, brows drawn together in an agonized expression. He smoothed it as soon as he saw her. "What is it, Krista?"

"I heard a noise. You didn't cut yourself, did you, Daddy?"

He flinched. It was slight, almost imperceptible, but she knew what she saw.

"I'll get a broom."

"No, darlin'. Come in here, but keep to the wall and head over to the couch."

She picked her way past the shattered glass. Pieces had shot all the way across the large room, mostly tiny, glittery shards. Stepping over them, she made it to the area rug and stood by the sofa but didn't sit. Turning back to him, she saw him bend and pick up the broken frame.

"You told me last week I wasn't being fair to you. Making you tell everything about yourself but not giving anything in return. You were right. There's one part of any dom/sub relationship that should never be a double standard—honesty. I've been guilty of not holding up my end on that." He paused, staring down at what remained of the splintered wood and glass in his hand. "You aren't my first."

Although he sounded serious, she couldn't stop a nervous giggle from bubbling up. "The first night when we did it three times, and three different ways, and you made me come twice each time, I already figured that out."

He came toward her, still holding the frame. "No, I meant you're not my first little girl."

"Oh, well, I kind of guessed that, too, since you're really good at it."

"Coming from someone who's never had a daddy before, I'm not sure your opinion carries much weight, but it's good to know."

Seeing him shaken, uncertain, was a rarity, and she wanted to give him reassurance like he often did with her. She met him on the edge of the rug, where he'd paused. Rising on her toes, she framed his face with her hands and, leaning close, gave him back the words he'd said to her in the beginning. "Talk to me, Daddy. I'm a good listener."

He caught one hand in his and turned his lips into her palm. A few beats later, he said softly, "Her name was April. She was my last little girl. She was also my wife."

Processing quickly, she did everything to hide her surprise and remain the good listener she'd proclaimed to be.

"What happened to her?"

"She was driving home after seeing a movie with friends. It was after dark, and it was raining."

"Oh no," she whispered.

"She lost control and went over an embankment. There were no streetlights, no signs, and no guardrail."

"Oh, Daddy. I'm so sorry."

His gaze shifted over her shoulder. "I loved her. After she died, it was like a piece of me was missing. I didn't know how to cope and worked nonstop both here at the ranch and at the sheriff's department. It took a long time for me to become social again, even longer to go back to the mansion." His eyes returned to her. "I vowed never to become attached again. I'd play, take on a new sub for training, but not here, only at the mansion. And I swore I'd never be a daddy to another little girl, because when I lost mine, she took my heart with her."

Her heart ached for him and what he'd been through, but also for herself if he still felt the same way.

"Then why am I here calling you Daddy?"

"When I first saw you, I could tell you were lost, in need of a protector, a supporting arm, and a guide—a daddy who would give you unconditional love but also turn you over his knee when you needed it, and you did, darlin', we've proved that. But I didn't want to, not at first. Your lure was too strong."

She remembered how tense he had been, and quiet, letting the others decide her fate. He'd been struggling.

He handed her the broken frame. "Careful, it's sharp," he said as she took it and turned it face up.

A younger Sam, probably her age, beaming at the camera like she'd never seen him, held a girl in his arms. Black hair streaming down her back, she was in profile, staring up at him with a look of adoration.

"Her father found that in a box with some other keepsakes. He sent them to me, thinking I'd want them, but I've put her away, as you can see from the house. It was too painful to look at them every day."

She glanced at his desk and the open box on top of it, filled with memories that had torn open old wounds.

"We've talked about you moving on when your time is done here. I've tried to make that clear. If I haven't, that's on me, too, but I can't commit to more than we contracted for."

She nodded, unable to speak with her heart in her throat.

"When I brought you home, I swore I wouldn't get attached, but with each passing hour, you work your way deeper under my skin. But I don't want that again. I can't. That's no reflection on you, darlin'. I hope you understand that."

"Yes. You didn't make any promises." Her eyes came up to his. "But then, neither did I. I haven't lost a spouse, but I've lost both of my parents. I mean, my mother is as good as gone. So I know how hard it is to fill the hole in your heart that's left." She looked down at the picture of Sam with his April, unsure why she wasn't bawling her eyes out for him losing so much, and for herself not ever having it. "Sometimes, it's impossible. Look at my mother. There wasn't enough booze or pills after she lost my father. And you were going along fine then, boom, out of your past, a box full of painful memories. I'm sorry, Sam."

"So am I, Krista."

"Where do we go now?"

"We go on as before. Nothing has changed, unless you'd prefer someone else be your dom."

"I only have eleven days left."

"The choice is yours, darlin'. I can talk to George—"

"No, I'm settled here. I don't want anyone else...as my dom," she rushed to clarify, although that wasn't the truth. She didn't want anyone else as her daddy. "I'll get the broom."

"No. I'll do it. I didn't mean to upset you with all of this, either."

"It's okay. You probably didn't expect to come home early and have to deal with this either." She cocked her head and looked up at him. "Why are you home this time of day, anyway? Something to do with the big case?"

"No. We had a little trouble at the strip. It's March, spring break time, and even exclusive resorts and private vacation spots can get troublemakers. Long story short, too much booze, too much sun, too much testosterone by a pool do not mix."

"There was a fight."

"You got it. And while breaking it up, we all ended up in the deep end. I had to come home and change."

For the first time, she noticed his hair was wet.

"For a crime-free island paradise, they sure do keep the sheriff busy around here."

"Yeah, but just think, only six more months until autumn when we enter our calm half of the year."

"I should get out to the barn. They'll have Willow saddled, and she'll be expecting me."

"You've spoiled her, you know."

"Yeah, I'll miss her when I go."

A shadow of something crossed his face. He opened his mouth but then closed it, keeping silent.

"I'll see you at dinner?"

"Looking forward to it, darlin'."