Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 95756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“Now, you definitely look the part.”
“Yee-haw! Go horsie, go!” She let out a laugh of pure joy as the horse rocked back and forth. It took some getting used to. She hadn’t ridden a rocking horse in years. And the only one she’d been on had been at her neighbor’s house. She’d never had one of her own. But she soon got used to the motion.
“What are you going to name your horse, sweet pea?” Macca asked, watching on indulgently.
Hmm. What to name her horse? It had to be something regal. Something befitting such a fine steed.
“Princess Peaches,” she told him proudly.
Macca laughed. “Princess Peaches is perfect.”
“Sweet pea, you are not wearing your boots to bed,” Macca told her as she stood next to the bed, dressed in her striped pink and white pajamas with the bottoms tucked into her boots.
“I don’t want to take them off,” she moaned.
Macca pointed at the bed. “Sit down and I’ll help you take them off. They can sit right next to the bed and you can put them on as soon as you wake up. But you are not wearing them to bed.”
Her bottom lip dropped out. “That’s not fair.”
“Boots are not worn in bed.”
“But these aren’t just any boots, they’re special cowgirl boots.” She’d ridden her rocking horse until she’d felt ill with all the motion. Then Macca had made her get off and play something quieter for a while. So she’d done some coloring until dinner time.
But she hadn’t taken her boots off once since he’d given them to her.
“Little girl, I’m not going to tell you again,” he said in a stern voice.
She sighed heavily and sat on the bed. “Fine. But I want them to sit on the bedside table so I can see them.”
“They’ll stay on the floor by the bed and that’s final. Any more arguments and I won’t be taking you on a picnic tomorrow.”
Her mouth dropped open. “A picnic? We’re going on a picnic?”
“We will be if someone’s attitude doesn’t result in her going over her Daddy’s knee to get her bottom warmed and spending tomorrow writing lines about listening to Daddy when he tells her something.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” she said quickly. He tugged off her boots. She did watch carefully to make sure he set them by the bed like he said he would.
“We’re really going on a picnic?” she asked as he pulled back the covers.
“We are.”
“Where? What are we taking to eat? Are we driving there?”
“Well, I thought we might ride to this nice spot I know of.”
Her eyes widened. “Ride there? Like on a horse?”
“Yes, baby girl, on a horse.”
“A real horse?”
“Well, I don’t think we’d get very far on Princess Peaches.”
She rolled her eyes. “Daddy!”
“What do you think? Does that sound like fun?”
She nodded. “Oh yes. I’ve never been on a picnic! Do you need me to make anything to take with us?”
“You. . .you’ve never been on a picnic?” He gaped at her and she squirmed a little.
“Umm, no. Unless eating lunch in the park counts?”
He frowned and muttered something under his breath. Then he shook his head. “Well, I guess it’s going to be a day of firsts for you. First time on a horse. And first picnic.”
“Tomorrow isn’t my first time on a horse, Daddy.”
He looked puzzled. “But—”
“I just spent all afternoon riding Princess Peaches. I’m a skilled rider now.”
He grinned. “You are. But just in case, I’ll put you on a nice, quiet mare that will follow mine, all right?”
She sighed. “Well, if it will make you feel better, Daddy. . .”
“It will.”
“I guess so. But don’t be shocked when my horse-riding skills show you up.”
“I’ll attempt not to be jealous,” he promised her. Kissing her lightly on the head. “Go to sleep. You’ll need all your energy for tomorrow.”
3
“Cowboys are the sexiest thing ever.”
A chuckle startled her and she gasped, turning. A large man stood behind her, dressed in a flannel shirt, dark blue jeans and scuffed, worn cowboy boots. A brown hat rested on his head, shielding his face from the sun.
Not that the sun held much heat, or at least she didn’t think so. Certainly, it had nothing on Queensland sunshine. If this was autumn in Montana, she was in trouble when it got to winter. It sure was pretty though. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d been anywhere prettier.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” the man drawled. He pulled his hat off, revealing short, dark hair. Gray eyes watched her carefully. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
And did she mention the accents? She loved the accents. Macca still had an Australian twang, which she adored. But she loved the different accents she’d heard since moving to Sanctuary Ranch. People from all over the US lived here.
“That’s okay,” she told the other man quietly. “I just didn’t hear anyone walk up.”