Page 242 of Daddy's Naughty List

As he approached, Louisa glanced up, her face lighting with a smile that made his insides flip. "Sir! I was hoping you'd come." She gestured to the empty chair beside her. "Want to join our snowflake brigade?"

He chuckled, settling in next to her. The fruity scent of her shampoo mingled pleasantly with the cinnamon in the air. "I'm afraid my crafting skills are a bit rusty. You might have to show me the ropes, Lulu. And you know, you can call me Ben anytime you want."

She smiled mischievously. Quietly, she whispered, “I know. But I kind of like calling you Sir.”

He felt a hardening in his groin, a jolt of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him. He just about managed to croak: “I like it when you call me that, too.” He cleared his throat. “Now, how do we make these snowflakes, then?”

Lulu laid a hand on his arm, sending tingles racing across his skin. "Just follow my lead."

As she guided him through the steps of folding and snipping, Ben found himself captivated by the fluid grace of her fingers, the adorable way her brow furrowed when she concentrated. Every accidental brush of their hands sent a bolt of lightning straight to his core.

"You're a natural at this," he said. "Creating beauty comes easily to you, it seems."

A pretty blush stained her cheeks. "I've always loved making things. It's like . . . breathing life into ideas, watching them take shape beneath your hands."

"I know what you mean. I actually love wood carving."

She gave him an uncertain look. “Really?”

“Find it hard to believe?”

“I don’t know why,” she said, with a giggle. “You don’t strike me as the crafty type.”

“There’s something magic about coaxing something lovely from raw wood,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound like a fraud. He did enjoy carving wood, it was true. But he only really did it as a hobby, on rare evenings where he had time to himself. Kept him from dwelling on the loneliness in his heart. “It’s so fulfilling,” he said. “Like the finished product was always in there, and I just discovered it.”

Her eyes met his, a spark of connection arcing between them. "Exactly." Her voice was soft, almost reverent.

In that moment, surrounded by glittering paper and the hum of camaraderie, Ben felt something slide into place. A feeling of rightness, of inevitability.

Ben watched as Lulu held up a particularly intricate snowflake, her face alight with pride. "Look at this one!" she exclaimed, turning to show the other guests at the table. "You guys like it?"

The others looked suitably impressed, but Ben wasn’t looking at the snowflake. He was looking at her. He found himself transfixed by the sparkle in Lulu’s eyes, the unabashed joy in her smile. In a world that so often demanded seriousness and reserve, her childlike wonder was a breath of fresh air.

As if sensing his gaze, she glanced over at him, her expression softening. "What do you think, Ben?" she asked, holding out the snowflake. "Does it pass muster?"

He leaned in closer, taking the delicate creation from her hands. "It's perfect," he said honestly. "You have a gift, Louisa. The snowflake was there, inside the paper all along, and you discovered it."

She ducked her head, pleasure and shyness mingling in her smile. "Thank you," she murmured.

He handed the snowflake back to her, letting his fingers touch hers for a moment longer than necessary. "You're in your element here, aren't you?"

She nodded, hugging the snowflake to her chest. "It feels like home," she confessed. "Like I can finally be myself, without fear or judgment."

"That's what this place should be all about," he said softly. "Giving people the freedom to embrace who they truly are. That’s what I want for my ranch in Texas."

Her eyes met his, a wealth of understanding passing between them. "There’s something special inside all of us,” she whispered, “and we just need an accepting atmosphere to discover it. It’s magic.”

As Ben looked around the room, taking in the laughter and camaraderie, the glitter and garlands, he couldn't help but agree. Therewasmagic at work here—the magic of acceptance, of community.

The ranch bell rang out, signaling the end of the crafting session. Sighs of reluctance filled the air as everyone began cleaning up their supplies. Lulu carefully placed her unused glitter and sequins in a jar, fearful of spilling even one sparkle on the floor.

"You know," Ben said, his voice teasingly stern, "you're supposed to be letting your inner child out to play, not worrying about the mess."

Her cheeks burned. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're doing great, Lulu."

A shy grin stole across her lips. "Thank you, Daddy Ben."

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