Daddy's Sweet Girl (Montana Daddies, #3)

by Roberts, Laylah

  He snorted. “I’m not happy that you have to go to work on little sleep, that you were threatened and scared tonight. I like to be in control. And I definitely don’t like the word no. However, none of that means that I’m upset or angry with you.”

  “Really?” she asked incredulously.

  “All right. I’m upset. But not the sort of upset that you need to apologize to me for. You’re doing what you think you need to do. My opinion differs. Were you mine, my opinion would win. But you’re not.”

  “Women really agree to relationships like the one you want?” she asked, unable to help herself.

  “Yes. They thrive with that sort of relationship. They need it. It makes them feel safe and cherished.”

  She’d love to feel safe and cherished.

  “Where do you live, sweet girl?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Where do you live? I need the address so I can get you home and into bed.”

  Want to join me there?

  Lord, she wished she was brave enough to ask him that. And she was also glad she wasn’t brave enough.

  Jesus, could she ever make up her mind about anything?

  She managed to rally herself enough to give him her address. He didn’t bother to use the fancy GPS built into the dashboard, obviously he knew where her street was. They pulled up in front of her house after a mostly silent drive. She was glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see how rundown her tiny house was. There wasn’t exactly spare money for the repairs that needed doing.

  “Uh, thanks for the ride,” she said, reaching for her belt.

  “Don’t get out of the truck yourself,” he ordered. He climbed out and came around to open her door. Okay, it seemed that he was going to escort her to the door of her house.

  He really was a gentleman.

  He grabbed her, lifting her down. When her feet touched the ground, her legs nearly collapsed under her.

  He held her. “Do you need me to carry you?”

  “No,” she said hastily.

  He stepped back slowly. “Lead on then, sweetheart.”

  She walked up towards the small porch that ran along the front of the tiny two-bedroom house. She and Max had shared a bedroom when they were younger. Once they’d gotten older, Max had moved into Nana’s old camper. Abby had sold the camper after Nana died to help pay for some of the funeral expenses.

  She grabbed her keys and unlocked the door. “Thank you for—” her voice trailed off as he reached around her and opened the door then slid by and walked inside. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I still need to take care of those grazes on your hands, sweetheart, remember? It was obvious you were trying to brush me off so I figured I’d cut through the bullshit and come inside.” He unerringly managed to find the light switch as he moved into the house.

  “Kent, I really just want to go to bed.” This whole night had been shit. And to think she’d been complaining about old Pete having too many coffees. Turns out that had been the least of her problems. She pinched the top of her nose between her finger and thumb.

  “Hey.” Kent gently pulled her hand away from her face. “I know this is all overwhelming. You’re exhausted, sore, and you’re letting a man you don’t know very well into your private space.”

  “I’m not sure that I let you in.” She sent him a teasing smile.

  He grinned. Her heart went into overtime. When he smiled, he went from gorgeous to stunning.

  “I have been accused of being bossy once or twice.”

  “Once or twice? Now, who’s lying?”

  “So, there is a sense of humor under that quiet exterior.”

  She winced and lowered her gaze. Quiet. A word that basically meant boring. Unforgettable.

  “Abby? You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just a bit sore. I need a shower.”

  He grasped hold of her chin, raising her face so he could study it. “I get this night hasn’t been easy and you’d probably like to be well rid of me so you can climb into bed and collapse, but tonight you jumped in and helped my sister when you could have walked away. Or called the cops and kept yourself safely hidden until they arrived. I wouldn’t have even blamed you. Little thing like you shouldn’t be wading into situations like that.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Kent.” Because it’s obvious that’s where he was going with this speech.

  “But I do, sweetheart. My entire family does. You saved Eden from getting a worse beating than she did. And she told me how close you came to a bullet.” His face darkened and she grew tense as she saw the fury in his gaze. He looked away, took in a deep breath then turned back to her. “That sort of situation crops up again, you ring the cops and you keep safe. Understand me?”

  He was using his you-better-listen-to-me-or-else voice again.

  “That doesn’t require a lot of thought to agree,” he said in a warning voice.

  Shit. She hated to disagree with him. It wasn’t really her nature to argue. Well, most of the time. Sometimes she took a stand, like when he said he was going to give her money to make up whatever she would lose if she called in sick. She had pride. And principles. And there were some things she just couldn’t agree to.

  “I’m not sure I can agree. I’m not saying I’m brave or anything. I was scared shitless. I froze. I took too long getting there. When I did get there, I didn’t know what to do. But if it ever happens again, I’m not sure I can promise to keep myself safe while someone else is getting hurt.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You dove in to defend someone else even though you were scared and you think you’re not brave? You’ve got so much courage in you it’s enough to have a man shaking in his boots.”

  “I really don’t understand you.”

  “I know. Not sure I understand me either. I just don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.”

  Well, that was sweet.

  “If it makes you feel better, I don’t like that idea either. And I don’t plan to ever get in that situation again.”

  “You go back to that bar, it could well happen,” he warned in a low voice.

  She didn’t tell him that she had to go back, because that would lead to a conversation she wasn’t going to have.

  He grunted as though he understood what she was trying not to say.

  “The thing is, little Abby, I do owe you. I’m going to make sure you’re all right, which includes taking care of those scrapes and making sure you’re not hurt any worse than you say you are. I wish you would let me handle things so you could get more than an hour or two of sleep, but that seems to be out of the question.”

  “It is,” she said firmly.

  “All right, so just for now will you let me take care of you?”

  “Okay.”

  He smiled and it lit his face. She melted. “Okay. Go have a shower, baby. I’ll get you something to wear.”

  “Umm, no. I’ll get something to wear. You...ah...sit here.” She moved into the living room and pointed at the sofa.

  He raised one eyebrow but he seemed more amused than annoyed. She grabbed the T.V. remote and gave it to him. “Knock yourself out.”

  “Okay.”

  She just stared, completely frozen by the sight of him. Kent Jensen. In her living room. Sitting on her sofa. Watching her T.V.

  It was like she’d entered the Twilight Zone. Where all her dreams had come true. Well, except for a bad guy threatening her, scraping her knees and hands, encountering a pair of women-beating jerks and bruising her. Otherwise, yeah, dream come true.

  “Abby? Abby.”

  She blinked, stared down at Kent who was watching her with some concern mixed in with his amusement now.

  “Yes?”

  “Shower, baby,” he said to her gently.

  “Right...shower...yes.”

  “You want me to come help you?”

  That shocked her out of her dreamy state. “No!”

  “Well, you better get to it, or I’m goin
g to think you need my help.”

  She saw his grin before she swiftly turned away and practically raced into the bathroom. Then she realized she didn’t have her pajamas and opened the door, walking into her bedroom to grab some things.

  When the bathroom door was safely closed and locked, she leaned against it to catch her breath.

  Wow. Just wow.

  LITTLE THING SURE WAS rattled.

  His amusement faded as he set the remote down. He didn’t intend to just sit here and watch television. He was used to Abby freezing up around him, stuttering her words. Once she’d nearly dropped a whole plate of food in his lap. Luckily, he’d seen what was about to happen and had snatched it safely out of her hands.

  Yeah, he rattled her. And in some ways, he liked that. Liked that he could so easily read every expression on her face. She didn’t know how to hold back. He knew she was attracted to him. Every time he touched her, her breathing sped up, her body grew tense. When she’d been staring at him before, he knew she was a million miles away. In Abby-land.

  He guessed Abby-land was a better place for her to be than her reality.

  He really wanted to change that. He groaned and rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. What was he thinking? What was he doing? He couldn’t lead Abby on. She wasn’t the type of woman he was looking for.

  Because he was pretty certain she was a Little.

  He’d never thought of himself as a Daddy Dom. Not like Clint or Bear. He’d never been involved with a Little. He wasn’t the kind of guy who could nurture and guide her. Not like a Daddy. He didn’t even know if she knew what she was. If she knew anything about BDSM or age play.

  Nope, getting involved with her wouldn’t work. And she definitely wasn’t a one-night type of girl.

  Why was he so attracted to her? Why was he even here? He could have driven her home, walked her to her door and left. He could have insisted she go with that paramedic who hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. He clenched his hands at the memory.

  You’ve got no business being jealous.

  He also had no business making demands on her. He knew some of his comments could have been misleading. Where had that stuff about the booster seat come from? He’d obviously spent too much time around Clint and Charlie.

  Step back. Cool things down.

  He’d already gone too far, telling her about what sort of relationship he desired. No doubt she was completely confused by his comments. But he wanted to see if he could get past the layer of defenses she had up. With time, he could get her used to his touch, his presence and she might open up. Then he’d see the true Abby. He’d gotten glimpses of her. Flashes of her sense of humor. And after the way she’d come to Eden’s defense, he could now see her courage.

  She was far too brave for his peace of mind.

  Crap. This whole night had turned into an absolute shit-storm. Although he was damn glad that Eden had called him and not Clint. Mind you, that was a given. He knew she was expecting him to intervene between the two of them.

  Clint was going to be pissed.

  And he had every right to be. Eden had no business being at that bar, where the worst scum of the state hung out. And neither did Abby. He was dying to know what she had been doing there. He’d see if Eden could shed any light on that.

  You need to distance yourself.

  Right. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t intervene from afar. He got up and prowled into the kitchen, pouring himself a drink of water. The house was freezing cold and had a tired feel to it. The wallpaper came from the seventies and was curling up at the edges.

  On a hunch, he opened the pantry. He sighed. Christ, why didn’t she have any food? Sure, could be that she didn’t like cooking and ate out all the time. But somehow, he didn’t think so. There was coffee, some staples like salt and pepper along with a bag of rice and a few cans of food. He opened the fridge. Milk and half a block of cheese and half a dozen eggs.

  How the hell was he meant to pull back now? Clearly, she didn’t have anyone to take care of her.

  Not your problem.

  She helped Eden.

  Shit. Shit.

  He knew he could tell Clint about all of this and his brother would take care of things. They never left a debt unpaid. But he didn’t want Clint taking care of her. Kent wanted to be the one to do that. Even if he had to be careful not to overstep and lead her on.

  He heard the water turn off and left the empty glass in the sink. He’d just sat on the sofa and turned the T.V. on when she walked into the living room. Her chestnut hair was pinned back in that horrid bun once more. She was covered head to foot in a man’s robe. Jealousy struck him and he had to fight it. The robe looked well-worn. Old-boyfriend or current? Wide, hazel eyes stared at him.

  “Abby, I never asked if there was someone you wanted to call.”

  She frowned slightly. “Call?”

  “Like a boyfriend.” The words tasted sour in his mouth.

  She blinked a few times. “I don’t have a boyfriend, if I did I...”

  “Wouldn’t have accepted a ride home with me?” he guessed.

  “Well, yes. Sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. If you were my girlfriend, I’d expect to be the first person you called when you got into trouble. Of course, if you were my girlfriend, you wouldn’t have been at that bar in the first place.”

  Her eyes widened at that. Before she could say anything, though, he nodded at the robe. He could tell she was fading fast. She was exhausted and needed to get to bed. For two hours of sleep. He was seriously not happy about that.

  “Lose the robe, baby.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she just stared. He stood and moved towards her, reaching slowly for the robe, not wanting to frighten her. He knew he intimidated her and he never wanted her to be afraid of him.

  “Abby, I need to check that your injuries aren’t worse than you’re letting on. Then I need to clean those hands. Any other injuries I should know about?”

  Her hands closed around his. “It’s really not necessary—”

  “I believe we’ve already had this talk, haven’t we?” He made sure his voice was firm. He didn’t intend to argue over anything that had to do with her health. “I don’t want to go through this again. I’m going to make certain you are all right. End of story.”

  She frowned at him. “You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?”

  He grinned. “Most of the time, yep. Occasionally Clint overrules me on things, but not very often. Now, lose the robe and tell me where your first aid kit is.” He’d untied her robe by now and she hadn’t tried to push him away again so he took that as a good sign.

  “Umm...well...” She nibbled at her thumbnail. He’d noted before that her fingernails were bitten to the quick.

  He gently pulled her thumb free from her mouth. “Baby, spit it out.”

  “That’s not really my thing,” she muttered.

  He grinned. “I kind of figured that out already. But we don’t have time for you to think about what to say, so just say it.”

  “I don’t really have a first aid kit.”

  “You got antibiotic and some cotton swabs?”

  “I think so.”

  “Then problem solved.” And tomorrow, he’d get her a proper first aid kit.

  So much for keeping your distance.

  “Right. Problem solved. Easy as that.” She was gazing at him as though he was a problem she wished she could solve as easily.

  He tugged at the sleeve of her robe, pulling it slowly off, gentling his touch as she winced. Was she hurt worse than she’d been letting on? It itched at him to find out. To take care of her. To tuck her into bed and make certain she rested.

  And the best way he could do that was to climb into bed beside her.

  Okay, he couldn’t think of that right now. Once the robe was off, he studied the pale blue pajamas she wore, with pictures of cows on them. They were faded and obviously well-loved. He placed her robe over t
he back of the sofa then took hold of her wrist and gently steered her into the bathroom. “Where is the antibiotic?”

  “Umm, in the cupboard under the sink.”

  The bathroom was full of steam and yet still felt cold. It was spotlessly clean like the rest of the house but needed a complete gut. All the fixtures had to be at least thirty years old. He easily found the antibiotic, cotton swabs and some Band-Aids. He placed them down then reached for her and lifted her up so she was sitting on the counter.

  “Kent!” she protested.

  He just gave her a look. If she started to talk about how she was too heavy for him to lift then he wasn’t going to be happy. She must have read that in his face because she pressed her lips together. He took gentle hold of her right hand. The shower had cleaned off a lot of the dirt, but there was still some embedded in her scrapes, so he set about carefully cleaning them off. She winced several times and he knew it had to be hurting, but her hand remained steady in his and she didn’t complain.

  Brave little thing.

  “Good girl, sweetheart. I know it doesn’t feel nice, but you are being so good for me.” He didn’t know where the words came from. Sure, he’d praised subs before for doing things they weren’t comfortable with. For letting him push them. For giving themselves wholly to him.

  But never for something like this and never in that tone of voice.

  He placed a large band-aid on the worst of the scrapes and took hold of her other hand. He started cleaning it up. “I know it hurts. Not too much longer.”

  “There’s my knees too,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “I scraped my knees when I landed.”

  “All right, we’ll get to those as well.” When he finished both hands, he stepped back slightly to study her pajama pants. “You got panties on?”

  “What?” She gaped at him.

  He swore, he’d never had to repeat himself so much in his life. But he knew she’d had a hard night. Plus, he was pretty certain she wasn’t used to having a man in her house, invading her space, ordering her around.

  “Do you have panties on?”

  “Yes,” she said in a voice that implied he was crazy for suggesting she wouldn’t. His lips twitched. He’d rather expected that reaction.