Page 43 of Daddy's Rules

Chapter Twelve

Owen

I look down at the beautiful, headstrong woman who’s overreacting and I don’t know if I want to hold her tight and or turn her over my knee and spank her little ass. She’s losing her mind because of the dog, but I know it’s more than that. We’ve just crossed the threshold into new territory. Our relationship has deepened immensely in the last little while. Losing the dog perhaps reminds her of how it is to lose someone you love. I don’t know for sure, but that’s what my gut tells me.

Jordan needs more than rules and accountability. She needs my strength. She needs me to keep her calm and grounded. To remind her of her own strength and capabilities. So when panic rises in her voice and her eyes widen in fear, my instinctive need to calm her kicks in.

“Jordan!” I grab her.

“I have to find him,” she shouts, pushing my hands away from her. Groping wildly for sandals, she grabs a mismatched pair, one of mine and one of hers. But pulls them on her feet anyway. “I let him down. I can’t leave him to fend for himself.” A sob catches in her voice.

Like her father left her.

“Jordan.” I keep my voice low and stern, a tone of voice that always catches her attention, but this time it doesn’t work. She’s reaching for the doorknob, no coat in the cool chill of the evening, still wearing mismatched shoes and her shirt buttoned wrong.

“Little girl!” That gets me a momentary backward glance, but she quickly dismisses me and turns the handle. There’s no way I’m letting her set foot outside in this state.

“Young lady, you let go of that doorknob, or my hand meets your bare ass.” She pauses, and I bark out a firm, “Now.”

I watch as she makes the decision. Disobey me and face the consequences, or obey and trust me to handle this. It’s beautiful, watching her make the decision. Even though I’m her daddy dom and the one with the perceived power, it’s with her choices that the true power lies: the strength to relinquish control. To trust me. To let me care for her.

To let me love her.

And in that moment, when her choice to obey hangs in the air between us like a proposal, so simple yet monumental, I know in my heart... I want to marry her.

Her pretty fingers caress the doorknob, the tips gliding along the metal as she hangs her head and her shoulders slouch. “I can’t let him down, Owen,” she says, her voice shaking.

“Jordan.” My voice loses its harsh edge. “Baby,” I say gently.

When she turns to me, her eyes brim with tears. I want to pull her to me and kiss those tears away. Comfort her. Tell her everything’s going to be okay. I can’t solve everything for her, but this is one thing I can. Crooking a finger at her, I watch as she decides to obey me.

Her chin wavers as she walks to me. “Daddy.”

“You’re such a good girl. Such a very good girl.” I pull her to me and grasps her chin with my thumb and forefinger.

“We won’t solve anything by running out impulsively like this. Let’s think before we act.”

She nods, and when she blinks, a tear rolls down her cheek. I brush it away with the pad of my thumb and kiss her forehead. “Go sit on the couch.”

I let her go and lead her to the couch. When she’s sitting, I kneel in front of her and remove my shoe from her foot.

“What are you doing?” she whispers. “I need to go. I can’t—”

I take hers, the matching one, and slide it on her foot. “We need to go,” I tell her. “But we might as well wear matching shoes.” I give her a gentle but teasing smile and rise to put my own shoes on.

This actually makes her smile. I can’t help but lean in to kiss her, brushing my lips against hers. Her chest rises as she inhales me. My fingers glide to the back of her neck as I draw her to me and pull away far too soon.

“Alright, sit tight for a minute,” I tell her. I make sure she’s obeying me before I go to the kitchen. I grab a plastic bag and toss in a few of the ribbon-shaped dog treats.

“Okay, let’s go, baby,” I say, pulling her to her feet. “We have a dog to find.” I have to admit, I’m not enamored by this dog. I’d just as soon bring it to a shelter as I’d take it in and feed it. But it means something to Jordan. Something that goes deeper than what it seems. And because it does, it means something to me.

“Let’s think,” I say to her, leading her down the stairs to the beach. “Where would he go?”

“Do you think he went back?” My brows rise.

“Like back, back?”

She shrugs. “You’ve seen Homeward Bound, haven’t you?”

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