Page 40 of Guiding Little Gabi

Tomorrow was their last full day on the Ranch. There were Fourth of July games and celebrations starting early in the afternoon. It would be a fun afternoon and evening, but the real fireworks would go off in their room the next morning. They would have plenty of time to reconnect in every way imaginable. And time wasn’t a problem.

He was her forever Daddy. And she was his forever everything.

EPILOGUE

Gabi worried her fingers, which was preferable to biting her nails. That was what she wanted to do.

As always, it had seemed like such a good idea at the time. They’d watched the fireworks the night before. Raleigh had even bought her a pair of comfortable earplugs to wear because he’d remembered she didn’t like the loud booms. Sitting with her friends had been super fun.

It should have been a fantastic evening all around, with “should” being the operative word.

Glancing up at her Daddy while they waited for Moses to bring their bags, she nibbled her bottom lip. He’d told her not to ask again, but she couldn’t help it. She needed to know. “Daddy?”

Without even looking at her, he said, “Don’t say it, little girl. If you do, the first thing you’re getting when we get home is a roasted rear end.”

Gabi lowered her gaze to the driveway. The silence was deafening. And scary. Maybe she should try to make small talk. “The gravel is beautiful this time of year.”

Yeah, she needed to work on her small talk skills.

Just be quiet. All you have to do is not talk.

Really? It seemed like Beetlebrenda didn’t even know her sometimes. Gabi tried to sing her favorite song in her head, but she forgot the words. Who didn’t remember the words to their favorite song? People who had guilt and anxiety welling up inside them, that was who. Before long, her thoughts grew so big they overwhelmed her desire to mind her Daddy.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she asked, “Daddy, are you sure you aren’t mad at me?”

As soon as the words escaped her, she wished she could catch them and shove them back into her mouth. But she couldn’t, so instead, she clapped both hands over her lips.

“Gabrielle Rayne Schwindler. That’s one spanking. I am going to count and spank you for every time you say something I have already answered one hundred times. But for the last time, no, babygirl, Daddy is not mad.”

He hadn’t really counted how many times she’d asked. Probably. That was a loophole if she’d ever heard one.

So not the point.

Right. He could claim he wasn’t angry until he was blue in the face, but he had practically been shouting by the end.

Her lips trembled, even though she told them not to. “But you still sound mad, Daddy. That’s why I keep asking.”

With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and seemed to be counting to ten. “How long did you say it would take this thing to wear off?”

Brightening at a question she could answer, Gabi said, “Not very long, Daddy. It shouldn’t take any more than three weeks. I’m sorry that it’s summer and people will see the rash every time we swim. But you don’t have to go swimming for me. I don’t even like the water, Daddy. I could never swim again, ever in my whole life, and it would be fine. Nope. No swimming for me. Water. Yuck!”

He cut his eyes toward her, and disbelief washed over his expression. “Weren’t you the Little girl who was just talking at the fireworks show last night about how excited you were with your new membership at the community pool? That doesn’t sound like a Little girl who doesn’t like to swim. Have we not learned enough lessons yet about lying? Do I need to add that to the list of reasons you’re getting your butt busted when we get home? You’re racking up quite a set of punishments by not minding Daddy and lying.”

Rats.

She couldn't even comfort him without landing in trouble. He must really, really be mad. “I sure am glad you’re not mad at me,” she mumbled, kicking a piece of gravel.

She yelped when her Daddy flipped her over his hip and swatted her bottom four times. With each smack, he firmly spoke a word. “I. Am. Not. Mad.”

Gabi rubbed her bottom when he set her back on her feet. Her bottom felt like he was mad. Why did Daddies have such good hearing?

Maybe it was more like selective hearing. He never heard her say she wanted a second ice cream cone or to stay up past her bedtime. No, he only heard the bad things that would get her in trouble.

“If you don’t want to get in trouble again, I suggest that you refrain from saying anything I’ve told you not to.”

She hated it when the logical lawyer in him came out.

When he bent his arm behind his back to try to scratch, she immediately stepped behind him to help. He would never be able to reach that spot.

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