“And why is that?” Shane asked.
Abby turned to pick up her bouquet of flowers as she called over her shoulder, “Well, isn’t it obvious? Clay and I leave for our honeymoon in a few hours, and you two will have to share a residence. We were a bit concerned that because you’ve hardly even noticed each other existed that it might be a bit awkward, but I think it’ll work out just fine. Don’t you, honey?” she said with a smile to Clay.
“Absolutely,” Clay agreed with a grin. He placed his Stetson on his head and patted Shane on the back. “You and I’ll have a chat before I go, yeah?” Shane nodded, looking positively stricken.
Daisy blinked. Why had it never occurred to her that with Abby and Clay going on their honeymoon she’d practically have the house to herself? She could barely contain her glee.
Chapter Three
How could he have been such a dumbass? Why had he never put two and two together?
“I mentioned our honeymoon to you weeks ago,” Clay said, scrubbing a hand across his forehead as the two sat at the head table, cold beers in hand.
“Of course you did,” Shane said, shaking his head. “I just forgot that her sister would still be around. Guess I’m just not used to her being there.”
“She’s mostly a good girl,” Clay said.
She behaved herself around Clay, who likely intimidated the hell out of her, Shane reasoned. Would she behave around him? The memory of her tipsy little self downing moonshine before the wedding came to mind. He pursed his lips and shook his head, earning a deep chuckle from Clay.
“Shane, if I remember correctly, you had, what, five or seven little brothers and sisters, right? I bet you could handle one just fine.”
Shane took a long pull from his beer bottle and shrugged. “Never said I couldn’t handle her.” He’d lay the ground rules and she’d hop to, and they’d be good as gold. “Just didn’t know I’d be responsible for her.”
Abby smiled. “Aw, Shane, she can take care of herself. You’ll see.”
Like hell she could.
And yes, he most certainly would see. If she thought that loser Malcolm would be coming around, she had another think coming, but they’d settle all that in due time.
He lifted his bottle and saluted the newlyweds. “Here’s to the groom with the bride so fair, and here’s to the bride with groom so rare!”
From the corner of his eye, he watched Daisy lift a glass to her lips and his eyes narrowed.
Oh, they’d be fine alright.
Just exactly how he’d handle her might not be what she’d anticipate.
As the festivities ensued and day gave into night, the warm Dallas air cooling just a bit, the wind rustling the leaves behind him, Clay and Abby got ready to take their leave. “You’ll take care of the gifts, Shane?” Clay asked, as he put their luggage in the back of Shane’s truck.
“Of course,” Shane said. He took the small passel of cards and wrapped presents from Clay. “You two have an amazing honeymoon, and we’ll see you in a few weeks.”
Shane drove the two of them away from the venue, amidst hoots and hollers and little flecks of rice hitting his windshield, and saw them off at the airport. By the time he pulled into the driveway at home, he was whipped. His days typically began before the sun rose, and today had been no exception. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and get a good night’s sleep. As he cut the engine, the serenade of crickets filling the warm night air, he heard something else in the distance. His hand on the steering wheel, he stilled and listened. After a moment, whispered voices picked up again.
With a sigh, he grabbed his belongings, and the few things Clay and Abby had entrusted to him, and made his way to the entrance of the large, rambling house, but he could see no one. He pushed open the door, surprised to find it unlocked. He’d assumed Daisy would be home long before now, on her side of the house and fast asleep. Had she left the door open for him?
Frowning, he pushed it open and entered the kitchen. They’d have a talk about that.
A young boy who looked about fifteen years old, his hair spiky and unkempt, and jeans hanging well below his waistline revealing bunched-up blue boxers, jumped to his feet. Daisy sat up straighter and tidied up her tousled hair. “I was just telling Malcolm to leave,” Daisy said, getting to her feet and wobbling a bit. “If you’ll give us a minute.”
Shane frowned and dropped the packages on the kitchen counter. “Fine. But I’m lockin’ up for the night.” He left the two of them and marched to the other side of the large house, making sure every window and door was shut tight, and when he found the back door still open, letting in the warm night air, he slammed it shut.
When he returned to the kitchen, he found Daisy visibly upset. Her eyes flashed at Malcolm, and when Shane came in the room she only glared at him.
“Everything okay in here? Happy to see him to the door myself,” Shane muttered, trying to meet the eyes of the kid, but Malcolm only tucked his head and scrambled toward the door.
Shane hoped he was good and afraid of him.
He ought to be.
Shane yanked open the door. “Good night.” The boy said nothing and scurried out the door.
Turning with a raised brow, he found Daisy frowning at him.
“Why the hell did you have that boy over here? Thought he was your ex,” Shane said, slamming the door with a little more force than necessary.
“Didn’t invite him,” she said, turning away from him. “My head hurts and I don’t want to talk. I’m going to bed.”
Shane stood with his arms crossed, watching her unsteady walk toward the stairs. “That’s fine. Something you should know, though, Daisy.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“If I catch you drinking again, more than your head’ll hurt.”
She froze with her hand on the rail, but said nothing, and for a moment, his anger dwindled. Was she okay? Her face was pale and drawn, one hand resting on her stomach.
What had the son of a bitch said or done to anger her?
When he reached her, she froze, her eyes wide and apprehensive. He reached a hand out to her elbow to steady her. “Y’alright?” he asked, peering into her face with concern.
She leaned heavily on his arm and shook her head. Despite his anger and irritation, she smelled good, and he wanted to hold her closer, kiss the soft hair at her temple and tell her she was beautiful. “I—I just—your threat made me nervous is all. And I—I don’t feel good.”
“Not a threat, honey. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow. For now, let’s get you to bed.” He practically carried her up the rickety stairs to her bedroom. When they arrived at her room, he sat her on the bed.
“Now, can you get yourself ready or do you need help?” He stood with his hands on his hips.
She fell face down on the bed, still clothed in her fancy bridesmaid gown.
“I’m fine. Go ‘way. Change in the morning,” she mumbled into the bed.
God, he itched to sober up her little ass. He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm himself the hell down before he sat her up and spun her around toward him.
“Get out of these clothes,” he muttered. She was young enough to be his sister, he reasoned. This was just like being… a big brother.
“Hardly know you,” she said, her eyes closed now, smirking at him, but she lifted her arms. “And already, you wanna disrobe me, cowboy?”
Sister, sister, sister.
Don’t look.
Don’t think.
God, did she ever deserve a hand across her pretty little ass.
He leaned over to unzip her, and when he did her head fell on his chest. Hell, she smelled delicious. When the dress was unfastened, he lifted it up and over her head. He tried to avert his eyes, but how could he ignore the barely dressed curves sitting in front of him.
Sister, sister, sister.
Her breasts spilled out of the push-up bra she wore, the edg
es of lace making his cock harden. Her ample hips were creamy white. He wanted to lick them, bite them, ride those curves until—
She’s no fucking sister.
He yanked the covers of her bed down. “Get on under those covers,” he ordered, his voice a half-growl as he sought to control himself. “You ought to be spanked, letting yourself getting rip-roaring drunk. And on your sister’s wedding night, too. For shame, Daisy.” With a gentle push, he laid her down in bed and pulled the covers up over her.
“I was a naughty girl,” she said, her eyes still closed. “Is Daddy gonna spank me?”
Daddy.
Shit.
“Good night, Daisy,” he said, turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him.
She was nothing to him.
Absolutely nothing.
He told himself this as he undressed and prepared for bed.
He repeated it as he ignored his raging hard-on as his memory replayed her calling him Daddy.
He’d do his thing, and she’d do this. Yep. That’s how this would work. Tomorrow, she’d be hungover, and that would be punishment enough for her behavior. Tonight, he’d get some sleep. He punched down the pillows and climbed between the cool sheets, all the time wishing he could erase the memory of her creamy white skin and delicious curves.
She was a girl. An impetuous, naughty little girl, barely into the cusp of womanhood.
Then why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?
Chapter Four
Blinding light.
So. Much. Light.
And noise.
What the hell was that noise? Someone was banging, loudly. Daisy pried one eye open, and when she did, her stomach did a great lurch. She laid as still as she could, because she knew if she moved even just a little, she’d toss her cookies. And what would she do if Shane—
Oh, God.
Shane!
He’d seen her in this state. Had he been the one to bring her up to bed? A fuzzy, groggy memory came to her mind—stark, very angry, very stern eyes looking at her as he tucked her into bed.
Tucked her into bed!
And then, a sick realization hit her in the gut and she moaned out loud.
She’d called him Daddy.
Daddy!
“Is Daddy gonna spank me?”
Oh, my God.
How could she ever look him in the eye again? How would she ever talk to him again? She’d have to pack her bags and find some other place to live, because if he ever—
“Mornin’, sunshine.” The squeak of curtains being yanked on a rod went straight between her eyes.
“What are you doing? Stop that! Damnit, it hurts my head.”
Shane stood in front of the early morning sun, the light illuminating him from behind so that she couldn’t see his face, but she could tell from his posture that he was angry. His back was ramrod straight, his hands on his hips, and his voice rang through the room.
“Soberin’ you up is what I’m doin’. Now, I am sorry your head hurts. Next to your bed you’ll find a glass of water and some pain relievers. I’ve made you breakfast, and will bring that to you shortly.”
“God! I don’t want breakfast. Leave me the fuck alone, and shut the door behind you. I have no idea who the hell you think you are, but if you—”
“I’ll thank you to watch that pretty mouth of yours.”
His voice had grown deeper, more serious now. She blinked. Another wave of nausea rolled over her as she reached for the water and pain relievers. She gulped them down, willing her pounding headache to cease. The water was cool and refreshing, and she wanted nothing more than another tall glass as she slid back beneath the covers.
“I want answers, Daisy.” He walked from the window to where she sat in bed, and stood by her side. “You tell me what you did with the parcels I left in the kitchen last night.”
A chilly foreboding crept over her then, prickling along her spine. Oh, God. She closed her eyes then, trying to conjure up what happened in the kitchen, but her mind was a hazy blur. Malcolm had said… something. Hadn’t he? Something about… no. No, she couldn’t remember a goddamned thing.
“No idea what you’re talking about. Damnit, Shane, leave my room or I’ll call my sister and tell her you’re harassing the living hell out of me.”
She pulled the blanket over her head, only to have it yanked down again.
“Call her,” he said. “Call her and tell her your loser ex-boyfriend was over and her wedding gifts have been tampered with. You want me to dial, or do you want to do it yourself?” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, his brows furrowed over angry eyes.
“They haven’t been tampered with,” she whispered.
He leaned in closer. “You callin’ me a liar?”
She sat up in bed so fast, her head spun, and she inhaled deeply to quell the nausea that threatened her once again. She let out a little involuntary moan and clasped her hand on her forehead, turning her head to the side and clamping her lips shut to stop herself from vomiting.
“Shane,” she said in a whisper. “I don’t know anything about the parcels. You put me to bed, and that’s the last thing I remember.”
Put me to bed. The words hung in the air between them, and she closed her eyes.
Is Daddy gonna spank me?
Of all the things she could’ve said…
To her surprise, he reached for her then, tucking her back into bed. “I was gonna make you haul your ass out of bed and help me milk these cows and muck the stalls. Seems you need a good lesson in avoiding moonshine. But it also seems Mother Nature is doin’ a fine job of teaching you a lesson herself.”
She’d never touch the fucking stuff again, for as long as she lived. Her head was gonna split in two. Even the water she’d had now churned in her stomach.
“Got my lesson, right here,” she said, patting her head and her stomach.
With her eyes closed, she could only hear him sigh. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah,” she said.
Shane sighed, tucking the blanket closer to her now. “Stay in bed, Daisy, and I’ll bring you your breakfast.” He pushed himself to standing. “Hopefully nothing’s wrong with their presents. I may have overreacted, and I’m sorry. It’s just that they trusted me to bring those gifts home. The gifts are there, they just seem tampered with, maybe some missing even, and I don’t trust that loser ex of yours.” Before she could reply, he left the room.
What had he done? What had fucking Malcolm done? Not knowing how long she had before Shane returned, Daisy picked up her phone, squinting at the screen that blurred in front of her. Shit. She needed to talk to Malcolm. She tapped his name on her call list, but when it rang there was no answer. “Call me,” she spat out into the phone when his voice mail picked up, then she texted him the same. We need to talk.
She sat up straighter in bed as the door to her room creaked open, and Shane walked in carrying a tray. The medicine had begun to kick in a little, and though her head still ached, she could look at him without the light hurting her. What had gotten into him, and why was he now bringing her food on a tray? They’d lived in the same house for months and had barely spoken to one another.
“Thank you,” she said, eyeing him curiously as he slid the tray on the table next to her bed. Two triangles of toast sat beside a small, steaming pile of scrambled eggs, and a little fluted fruit cup nestled in the corner of the tray, but what she really focused on was the coffee. God, she needed coffee. She reached for the steaming mug and took a tentative sip. Laced with creamer, it was rich and hot as hell. Perfect.
She moaned a little with her eyes closed, savoring every luscious sip, though her stomach protested. “This is so good.”
When she opened her eyes, he was eying her curiously. “Glad you like it.”
He’d changed from the night before into a well-worn pair of jeans, faded at the knees from wear. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans,
and had a thick, chocolate-brown leather belt fastened at his waist. She swallowed. “I do.”
“No one wants to eat when they’re hungover, but drinking your water and having a bit of food will help you. Today, you’ll stay here and rest until I give you leave to get up. I want you resting up so that tomorrow, you can get some work done.” He made his way to the door, but she stopped him. What the hell was he talking about?
“Excuse me?” She sat up in bed, her ire rising as he reached for the doorknob.
“You heard me.”
“Yeah, I heard you. What I didn’t hear was the explanation as to why you think you have the right to tell me what to do?”
He picked up his Stetson from the chair that stood next to her desk, and slid it on his head, casting his face in shadow so that she could barely see the striking blue of his eyes.
As he stood with hands anchored on hips, something about his stature made her shiver as he continued. “Your sister told me you’re under my care in her absence. Clay told me you’re working for him to make some extra cash before you go to college, and I’m not only keeper of this house, I’m your boss. And frankly, Daisy?” He stood with two feet apart, crossing his arms on his chest now, his t-shirt bulging at the biceps as he stared at her. “I’ve about had it with your attitude. I thought I was being nice, making you breakfast and giving you the day off, even though you brought your illness on with your own stupidity.”
“Stupidity!”
“Yeah, stupidity. Anyone over the age of five who lives in these parts knows how stupid it is drinkin’ moonshine. You did it underage, and on your sister’s wedding day. You tellin’ me that was a wise move?”
Well, when he put it that way…
“No,” she said in a little voice.
He only nodded. “I’ve got work to do. You stay here. You rest up and drink your water. I’ll be back to check on you in an hour, and I’d better find you exactly where you are now.” Without thinking, she looked away. His voice deepened, warning. “Daisy. You get me?”
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