Page 53 of Tame Me Daddy

I rose on tiptoes to press my forehead against his. "I love you too. Thank you for standing with me."

"Always," Grant promised, his voice a low rumble that I felt more than heard. "And for good measure, want to hear my official position on the matter? Little, adult, cowgirl, lover—you are perfect exactly as you are."

"We should get to work," I said eventually, though I made no move to step out of his embrace. "People will talk."

Grant laughed, a rich sound that made my heart swell. "Let them talk. Nothing they say could possibly be as interesting as the truth."

Chapter 8

TWO MONTHS LATER

I smoothed the fabric of my dress, my fingers trembling just enough to notice. Two months had passed since I'd finally found my voice with my family, and tonight would mark another milestone. Maya watched me from the corner of my bedroom, her smile a mix of pride and excitement. Everything had changed since I arrived at Warwick Ranch—most of all, me.

My room looked nothing like the sterile, impersonal space I'd first inhabited. The walls, once bare, now bloomed with photographs—me atop Starlight, Maya and I covered in mud after a particularly disastrous fence repair, Grant teaching me to rope with his hands steady over mine. Little touches that weren't little at all.

"Earth to Cherry," Maya waved her hand in front of my face. "Is anyone home?"

I blinked back to the present. "Sorry."

"Don't be. It's a big night." She grabbed the hairbrush from my dresser. "But let's not be late, or Grant will pace a hole in the porch."

Maya worked the brush through my hair with gentle strokes. We'd grown close these past months, especially after I'd finally trusted her with the complete truth about my relationship with Grant. I'd stammered through an explanation of our DDlg dynamic, waiting for judgment that never came.

Instead, she'd asked thoughtful questions, researched on her own, and eventually shrugged with that easy acceptance that made Maya who she was. "Love's complicated," she'd said. "But this makes sense for you two. It's like you've found a missing puzzle piece."

Now, on the ranch, our relationship wasn't exactly broadcast over the morning announcements, but it wasn't a dirty secret either. Mrs. Hernandez dropped knowing winks when serving Grant extra portions "for strength," and the ranch hands' teasing had evolved from "teacher's pet" to more knowing jokes about who really ran the show. The judgment I'd feared had never materialized.

"Hold still," Maya instructed, pinning back a section of my hair. "You know, when you first got here, I never would've pegged you as someone who'd end up thriving in a place like this."

I laughed softly. "Neither did I."

My work with the horses had blossomed in ways I couldn't have imagined. A month ago, Ryder had brought in three "lost causes"—horses deemed too damaged or difficult for most trainers. I'd spent weeks with them, using techniques that blended traditional training with the patient, nurturing approach that came naturally to me.

When the most skittish mare finally accepted a saddle without trembling, Ryder had watched with his arms crossed and a rare smile. "Guess you're running the training program now," he'd said, like it was the most natural conclusion in the world.

"You're good with broken things," Maya observed, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "Maybe because you know what it's like to feel that way yourself."

I swallowed hard. "I was never broken. Just . . . misunderstood. Even by myself."

Maya zipped up the back of my simple blue dress. It wasn't fancy—this wasn't that kind of ceremony—but I'd chosen it carefully. Feminine but not frilly, mature but with a touch of softness.

"Nervous?" Maya asked, adjusting a strand of my hair.

"A little," I admitted, my hand drifting to my neck. The skin there felt unusually bare, sensitive to the slightest touch. Soon,Grant's collar would rest there—not heavy, not confining, but a tangible reminder of our connection. "It's a big step."

"But one you're ready for," Maya assured me.

I nodded, trying to put into words what the collar meant to me. It wasn't about ownership or control—the things outsiders might assume. It represented protection, trust, belonging. A recognition of the unique dynamic we shared, where Grant's strength created space for my vulnerability, and my surrender gave him purpose.

"It's like . . ." I searched for words Maya would understand. "It's like when a wild horse finally accepts the halter. It's not giving up freedom. It's choosing connection."

Maya squeezed my shoulders. "I get it. Well, maybe not completely, but enough."

My phone buzzed on the dresser. I picked it up to see Amber's name on the screen.

Good luck tonight, sis. Wish I could be there. Love you.

A smile touched my lips. Despite my parents' disapproval, Amber had maintained contact. Our relationship wasn't what it had been—too much damage had been done—but the fragile thread between us was slowly strengthening.

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