Page 17 of Seducing Daddy

“What about you?” I questioned. “Don’t you want some of this blanket?”

“I’m fine with this down jacket on. Besides, don’t know that I could trust myself sitting beside you underneath a blanket.” His smile was flirtatious and did jittery things to my insides, which rattled with lust. Once seated beside me, Rex took the entire set of reins in his left hand, reaching his right out towards me. “I’ve been wanting to hold your hand for so long. Looks like I finally got my chance.” He slid his massive palm under mine, interlacing our fingers. The man was like a furnace, and I clasped onto my very own hand warmer while he encouraged Josie, the mare, into a trot.

The air was chilly enough to burn when you breathed it, and our exhalations puffed out in misty clouds, right along with Josie’s, which visibly filled the air above her head. The sound of sleigh bells echoed all around us like some corny Christmas movie set in Central Park. We were the only couple in the middle of cow fields frosted with a thick blanket of snow. So many questions hammered at me. Was I ready for this? I’d sought sanctuary here in this remote corner of the world on The Lost Coast, and sometimes, that voice, the one that took so long for me to stop hearing in my head, as if it were my own, came back to pay a visit.

Like now.

You really think once this preacher man learns about your ugly secrets, he’ll still want you around? You’re too damaged to cope with a proper relationship.

Old habits die hard. I scanned the fields, nervously looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was following us.

Watching.

The same prickling and burning sensation crawled up the back of my neck, the very one that warned me before I made my escape that he was aware of my every move, even though I told no one of my intentions. Instinctively, I sensed he’d kill me if he knew I planned to leave.

Snap out of it.

There’s snow.

Jingle bells.

This is a season of joy.

My inauguration into domestic violence nearly broke me. Shame was at the root of it all. I discovered most people didn’t want to hear it. How could anyone be so foolish as to be with an abuser? As if a person who repeatedly treated another with cruelty and violence would wear a sign or take out a classified ad to warn people away before they made the mistake of falling into the trap.

The message I received loud and clear from multiple sources was it must have been my fault.

I stayed.

I made him mad.

I made him jealous.

I provoked him.

Funny thing, that was the same thing Baby Carrot said to me every time he’d done something reprehensible. I minimized his power by calling him a nickname indicative of the size of his penis.

It didn’t make it any better.

Then there was Rex. He made people comfortable despite their difficult circumstances, like today at the impromptu shelter he’d set up in his church. Needing a change of subject from the ugly memories in my head, I complimented, “I enjoyed working with you at the community center today.”

“We’re lucky. We get to celebrate the true meaning of Christmas—helping others. Sharing our generosity of spirit.”

He squeezed my hand, and I reminded myself, F.W. doesn’t know where you are. That was my other nickname for the thing from my past. It stood for Fuck Wit.

He can’t get you. You’re safe.

“It’s obvious you’re good at your job.”

“I like how you were there to watch me in action.” He picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles, and for once, I didn’t have to fight my own battle of personal restraint, letting myself just enjoy his attention. “Do you want to know a secret?” he asked.

“You know it,” I acknowledged.

“I may have been showing off for you a little.” His smile was wide, his teeth strikingly white against his tanned face.

I couldn’t help laughing out loud. “Why, Reverend Pritchett. Isn’t pride one of the seven deadly sins?”

“That may be, but I can tell you, it’s not my worst. There are far more sinful things I’d like to do to you.” His extraordinary eyes blazed and glowed, and a touch of icy fear twisted around my heart, but my fears were premature. Directed not at Pritchett, but at the aching reminder of an old wound. Even though I felt these things, I could tell Rex was being cautious with me. Trying not to scare me away. Not pushing too far or too fast.

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