Page 21 of Giddy Up, Daddy

After he finished his dinner, he cleaned up and headed toward his bedroom. But as he passed the living room, he noticed that the door was slightly open and he could hear something inside.

He walked into the living room and saw her standing at the ironing board. There was a cartoon playing quietly on the television, and she let out a giggle.

He stood there and watched her. She set the iron down and turned. As she turned, she managed to stand on her untied shoelace and started to wobble with a scream.

Jumping forward, he grabbed her before she fell. “Blakely!”

“Oh my God! I didn’t see you there. You scared me.”

Yeah, well, she’d scared him too.

He could feel his heart racing. What was she thinking? She needed to keep her shoes laced up. She could have fallen and knocked over the iron. If it had landed on her . . .

Picking her up, he carried her to the sofa and sat her down. He turned off the iron before returning to stand in front of her. “What were you thinking?”

“Um. Sorry. Did I have the TV too loud?” She glanced at the television, blushing. “I was just watching some kids’ cartoons.”

“I don’t care what you were watching,” he said gruffly as he crouched in front of her and tied her shoelace. “You need to keep these tied. You could have really hurt yourself. If you don’t keep them tied, I’m going to confiscate all of your shoes with shoelaces, understand?”

“Oh.” She gave her shoes a surprised look. As if she hadn’t even realized they were untied. “Oopsy.”

Hmm. Did she realize that she sounded rather young? He decided not to mention it.

“And what are you doing ironing at this time of night?” he grumbled.

“I like to iron in the evenings. It’s relaxing.”

He shot her an incredulous look. “Lying on the couch and watching TV is relaxing. Taking a bath is relaxing. Ironing is work. You’re not to work after dinner. Do you hear me?”

“I’m not?” She gave him a surprised look.

Shit. He should have told her this already. “No, you’re not. You should be in bed.”

“You’ve been working,” she pointed out.

Stafford sat beside her. He should leave, but he just didn’t have the energy.

“Yeah, well, there’re endless jobs to be done and not enough hands to do it.”

“Oh. Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

He shook his head. “You do enough around here. Too much. You look tired. You should rest more.”

“Me? I’m fine. But I wish I could wave a magic wand and take all your jobs away!”

He had to smile as he took in her earnest face. “Thanks, darlin’.”

“I’m an amateur magician, you know.”

“Are you?” He found himself relaxing further as she nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m not very good, though. And Mrs. Flopsy and Mr. Whiskers don’t make the best audience.”

“Well, maybe Grandpa Jack and I could be your audience one day,” he offered without thinking.

“Really? You’d do that?” She bounced up and down on the sofa.

Shit.

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