Page 55 of Dark Horse

“Don’t even think about it. You’re exhausted, and you’ll drop halfway there in that sun. I’ll be fucking furious. You don’t want that. I promise,” he threatens.

TWENTY-ONE

DAKOTA

I letmy shoulders fall in defeat, putting one foot in front of the other as I walk toward the main house. I feel ridiculous. Like I’m letting Hazel and everyone down. That whatever I’ve done wrong attracted enough of his attention that he feels like he has to intercede. By the time I get inside the house and take off my boots, I feel like collapsing into a pile on the couch. The cool breeze on my overly heated skin is a relief, even if I don’t want to admit it.

“Come on.” He looks at me, a hint of pity in his eyes as he reads my expression and takes my hand. He leads me to the kitchen and pats one of the stools at the island counter. “Sit.”

I do as I’m told. The lure of modern conveniences like chairs and A/C is too much for me to fight right now. Maybe after a few minutes. I lean over, pressing my arms to the coolquartz counter. He makes his way around the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the fridge before he slides it in front of me.

“Drink,” he commands. “But not too fast.” He points at it and then me before he heads to the fridge again.

I take a sip and then a few gulps while his back is turned before I set the glass down again. The cool water feels good on my tongue and my parched throat. Yelling rules and directions to everyone all day has nearly stolen my voice. Even worse than the bar does.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice husky from tightness in my vocal cords, and I clear my throat.

“Making you a plate.” He pulls out various leftovers from earlier in the day, fruit and mini sandwiches along with a couple of appetizers, and arranges them on a piece of the Stockton family stoneware. The set Ramsey’s mother had handed down to Hazel when they got married the first time. He sets it down on the counter with a napkin and fork. “You’re gonna eat and drink this while I watch. No running off.” He reaches down and snatches my phone from my pocket. “No taking calls. No texting. Nothing.”

“They’ll notice I’m gone any minute and be worried.”

“Aspen’s got it under control, and Levi’s helping her.”

“You roped your siblings in on this?”

“They do what I say when they know I need the help.”

I frown at the fact that several people dropped what they were doing just so I could eat a snack.

“This is silly,” I protest while I take a bite.

“What’s silly is you not making time to eat or drink while you run yourself ragged. It’s hot out there. I hope you at least put sunscreen on this morning,” he grumbles as he takes the stool next to me and turns it toward mine before he sits.

“Okay,Dad,” I grouch, popping another strawberry into my mouth.

“I thought it was Daddy?” He smirks when I risk a glance over at him.

“You only get Daddy when you’re being good to me.” I shift my eyes back to my food and nip off a bite of my sandwich like it’s his head.

“I’m good to you all the time, sweetheart. You just sometimes like to do things that aren’t good for you.”

“This again.” I sigh. “I’ve told you. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. But sometimes you don’t have to.” He takes a strawberry and dips it into some of the sweet fruit dip he piled on the plate and holds it out for me. I go to reach for it, but he grabs my wrist and presses it to my lips. I look between him and the fruit and take a bite. “See? Not so hard,” he remarks as I chew the bite slowly, studying his face.

“Torture,” I say as I take the second bite, and he drops the stem to the plate along with my wrist. I’m not about to admit it, but the surge of carbs into my system does seem to be helping my brain function properly again. I don’t feel like I’m on the verge of tears and ready to snap a man’s neck all at the same time. “Is this your thing then? Bossing women around and telling them when to eat and what to do?” It’s more curiosity than admonishment at this point, and I do my best to make sure he hears it in my tone.

“Nah. I don’t care what women do. You’re grown and entitled to your choices,” he says, dipping another strawberry in the fruit dip and bringing it to his tongue. “But I care what belongs to me is well taken care of. Especially when I spend a lot of time and energy trying to make things right.” He gives me a pointed look.

“And you decide what that looks like?”

“Only when you stop making smart decisions and start putting yourself needlessly in harm’s way. Then I might step in from time to time.” He states it bluntly. “Last I checked, you were reaping a whole lot of benefits from my interference, without many downsides.”

“Dealing with you isn’t a downside?” I tease him, letting the smile break on my lips for him to see as he studies my face.

He smirks and looks down at the counter for a moment before his lashes lift and his eyes meet mine again, holding me with a steady gaze. “Not by the way your body reacts to me. The way your cheeks flush… Fuck. That’s my favorite part, honestly, because you don’t blush for anything.”

I can feel the heat of another flush rising up my neck at the accusation, and I’m keen to get out of his line of sight before it happens. I don’t want to have to watch that self-satisfied grin grow on his face. I grab the plate and go to stand to take it to the sink, but he stops me, his palm on my wrist.

---