Page 19 of Claimed By the Cowboys
Probably some of that damn free-range tofu.
“Cheese? On watermelon?” I asked incredulously. “Who on earth is going to eat that, because I can promise you it isn’t going to be me.”
Piper leveled me with a glare. “It's healthy, and I know that new things are scary to you, but Maisie's being such a big girl and trying new things.”
“I big girl!” Maisie declared happily. “Daddy, you try salad?” she asked sweetly, grabbing a fork and spearing a piece of covered watermelon.
More than anything, I wanted to say no. There were a million things I would rather do than put that piece of crumble-covered watermelon into my mouth. Muck out horse stalls. Rewire all the ranch fences with bare hands. Eat kale.
All those things seemed far more appealing than eating the piece of butchered fruit my daughter was holding out for me.
But I had to be a good influence for her. I was totally going to tell Piper off for it later, but in front of Maisie, I couldn't. I was trying to encourage my daughter to try new things.
I shot a quick glare Piper’s way. She was biting her lip, trying her best not to laugh at my indecision.
But I refused to look like a baby, especially in front of my daughter, so I shoved that watermelon straight into my mouth and started chewing as Maisie beamed at me, pleased I was trying it.
Oh god, it was awful.
I was a simple man. Fruit should be fruit and should have nothing added to it. I wasn't opposed to trying new things, like dragon fruit, which Zeke had bought at the market a few weeks ago. But I would much rather have my fruit just be a fruit with nothing fancy added.
It was incredibly hard to describe what I was eating, other than it simply felt wrong.
Only…I didn't want Maisie to know that. I didn't want to encourage bad habits and pickiness. So, I chewed that bite of watermelon slowly and swallowed it, my face probably looking less than pleased, while Piper bit back a laugh.
At least they were getting a giggle out of the situation.
“Don’t worry,” Piper said quietly as I swallowed, and Maisie went back to stirring the bowl in front of her. “There is a chicken salad sandwich in the fridge ready to go for you.”
“You couldn’t have said that earlier?” I asked, glowering at her. A chicken salad sandwich sounded far better than the fruity cheesy crap that she was making.
She laughed, a beautiful sound I couldn’t help but take notice of.
“And miss you going all green around the gills when you had to eat this? Clay, I wouldn't miss that for the world.”
Chapter 11
Piper
Imight have been starting to get the knack of this whole egg gathering thing, but life on the ranch was still an adjustment. Pack Adamar hadn’t bothered to reach out, and I could only assume they were too busy sticking their dicks in any woman willing. They were probably glad to be rid of me because I wasn’t refined enough for them, and even though that stung, I had to move on.
The early mornings weren’t that bad for me. I had gotten used to juggling my classes for my master’s with meal prepping and other responsibilities around the apartment with Pack Adamar. It wasn’t uncommon to pair those early mornings with late nights at the library, either. So, I’d actually taken to the schedule on the ranch pretty well.
Every morning, I would get up before the sun and Miss Maisie to prepare breakfast and a massive amount of coffee for the guys.
If Zeke and Dakota planned to go riding out along the ridge, driving cattle, I would pack them both hearty lunches. Or if they were going to be camping overnight, I would load them up forthe duration with dinner, snacks, and a little something to have with their coffee for breakfast.
After putting everything together for the guys, I’d usually get Maisie up, if she hadn’t sprung out of bed already, and get some breakfast in her belly. Then I’d help her dress for the day of ranch chores and pre-kindergarten activities to get her ready for school, which was only a little over a year away.
Typically, we started our day with feeding the chickens and gathering eggs before a bit of reading, either inside or out on the sprawling Blackwood Ranch property, depending on the weather.
After brushing up on Maisie’s budding literacy skills, I’d begin to prepare lunch for everyone. Sometimes Maisie was interested in what I was making and wanted to help. Other times, she sat and played with her dolls in the nearby living room in my line of sight, or in her booster seat at the long farm table with crayons and construction paper, doodling away.
Honestly, of all the kids I’d worked with in classrooms during my undergrad, camps, and nannying, Maisie was my favorite. She was sweet and incredibly agreeable most of the time. Her meltdowns seemed to spring from the classics—being hungry, physically uncomfortable or irritated, and of course, being overtired, a much rarer occurrence now that I’d gotten her on a regular bedtime and sleep schedule.
The little lady and I would take lunch with any of the guys who were free, but more often than not, we were alone, the two of us digesting with a good picture book of her choosing after lunch before settling her down for an afternoon nap.
While Maisie napped, I would typically serve the boys lunch in their offices or in the yard, then straighten up around the main house. I wasn’t hired to be a maid, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was part of the job to cycle through thelaundry and dishes, in addition to keeping inventory of the food and doing the grocery shopping for the house.
