Page 13 of More, Daddy (Bluebell Bruisers #3)

CHAPTER

EIGHT

“So you’re a poser?” Jake says, hip popped as he glares at me through the sunlight.

“No,” I scowl, shaking my head. “I just don’t want to do that right now.

” I dig my phone out of my pocket and check my email one more time.

No emails from Veiled telling me that messages are waiting from DaddysGirl .

A dull ache rolls through my bones at the uncomfortable discovery.

All day I’ve been checking my phone, hoping for a message.

Even though now that I know she’s a teacher, and may not necessarily have the opportunity to use her computer during the day, still, I check.

I check and hope. And today, at five in the evening at Jake’s house, I check and get disappointed for the twentieth time.

He takes a step closer, dipping into the shade that covers me from the porch eave. “Then ride with me.”

I tip my head to the side and let an exhausted sigh fill the space between us. “You missed the high school memo on peer pressure.”

He adjusts the large cowboy hat on his head, tipping it back until his sweaty forehead is exposed.

“You’re wearin’ boots and a hat. Take a ride with me or I’m gonna assume you’re a poser,” he prods, a little smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.

He wants to take a ride on his property, on his and Jo Jo’s horses, and Riley isn’t home.

Jo Jo is his daughter, she graduated Bluebell High recently.

Her mother died in an accident when she was young, and he raised her alone.

Riley joined their family a few years back, and her and Jo Jo have been close since.

Jake’s way of getting what he wants is accusing me of being a “fake cowboy” and a “poser,” banking on me doing what he wants just to prove he isn’t right.

He’d be right.

“Ten minutes. That’s all I’m giving you,” I tell him, pushing off the side of the porch to follow him down the steps, toward the tree where the horses are tied off.

They used to ride together at someone else’s farm, but now that Jo Jo is getting older, he brought their horses to his house, to make riding with her as easy as possible.

Basically, he’s a kid with a new toy. A cowboy with new horses.

After mounting Jo Jo’s horse, I find the reins and adjust my hat. Jake, on his horse, does the same, then casts me a sidelong glare from his position a few feet away .

“You’re getting what you want. I’m riding with you. So why are you glaring?” I’m tired and impatient.

“What’s so interesting on that phone of yours?” he says, nodding toward my pocket where my phone is stored.

I scratch at my hairline, then roll the discomfort of the day out of my neck with a pop and a click. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” He spits into the dirt, and strokes his fingers through the horse’s mane. “Tell me.”

“No.”

His smile is fast and big. “So there is something.”

“No.”

Somehow, his smile gets bigger. “Too late. Already caught you so just tell me what it is you’re so engrossed in on that phone and in turn, I promise that Riley won’t tell anyone.”

I snort. “You’re not even gonna promise not to tell your girl?” Jo Jo’s horse whinnies, and I walk her in a circle while staying focused on Jake.

Jake starts the journey toward the end of his property line, and I follow him. “I don’t wanna lie to you, West. Because unlike you, I am not a liar.”

I roll my eyes, but he just laughs. “There’s nothing to tell, that’s the truth.”

The late fall air licks against my cheeks as the horses pick up pace. The sun hangs low in the sky, and the dirt rising up from the ground smells like my childhood. Outdoors, sunshine, animals and freedom. As much as I didn’t want to go for the ride, I’m glad I did.

“Tell me about it, then,” Jake says, then adds, “and if you say it’s nothing, I’m gonna make something up to tell Riley, and then she’s gonna be around campus, knowing fake secrets about you.” He whistles. “You don’t want that.”

I snort again. “Gee, what a pal you are. ”

He snaps the reins, and our horses carry us quicker, the feel of wind against my chest making me feel confident.

I glance at him then back at the open pasture ahead. “I met a teacher through an anonymous dating app, and we hit it off but we haven’t exchanged names yet.”

“I thought you hate online dating.”

I shake my head. “That’s Dean who hates online dating. And…I don’t like it but c’mon, it’s a means to an end. I realize that Mrs. Right isn’t going to trip and fall into my lap. I have to look for her.”

He arches a brow, as the sun crests in the sky, casting an orange glow over Jake’s profile. “So what do you know about her?”

“She’s a teacher somewhere in the county. She’s funny and smart, and talking to her feels like sinking your feet into warm sand on the beach during vacation. Peaceful, recharging, perfect, you know?”

Jake blinks at me a moment before gazing off into the distance. He points to a spot near a water well. “We’ll turn around over there, come back the same way we went out.”

I nod.

He looks my way again. “I know exactly what you mean. That feeling is one to hold onto.”

I nod again, this time more energetically because Jake is the first person to mirror my thoughts.

If things with DaddysGirl are going so well, that means something.

It’s not a fluke. I should pursue revealing our identities and turning this into something tangible, something I can hold and touch and kiss. Something real.

“So now you know,” I say finally, not sure how much more I want to divulge. “I’m getting to know someone… and it feels like… the real thing.”

Jake doesn’t ask me any other questions for the rest of our ride, but the act of sharing with someone in my real life changes me. On my drive home, I am determined to move things forward with DaddysGirl . We shared our professions, now it’s time to take it a step further.

No more wasting fucking precious time.

I check my email on my phone as the shower heats up. Still no word from her.

It’s fine. Because after my shower, I’m going to get online, and she’s going to be online , and we’re going to fucking talk.

She knows I like to explore the role of kinky daddy dom, so she shouldn’t be surprised or take issue with me changing the course of our relationship. After all, that’s what good daddies do, right? They guide.

I don’t care that we agreed to move slowly. She said herself that she wants me, so if she wants me the way she says, she’ll have no problem leveling up.

I have to level this shit up. To know it’s real.

I swear to God, one more conversation that ends with her getting offline without reason, or without me being able to communicate with her again, will drive me over the edge to the bad place.

The place where I start to gaslight myself, start wondering if this is even real, if she is even real.

Tonight, she’s gonna give more to Daddy, or we’re done.

I don’t bother getting gratuitous with myself in the shower—I’m not in the mood. All day of stewing and overthinking has me on edge. The conversation with Jake, wherein I basically admitted I’m stupidly falling in love with a complete stranger—has me more on edge.

I won’t be that foolish. Not again.

I thought Pris and I were madly in love and then I realized in the eleventh hour that I didn’t know her at all. Not in the slightest. Because if you know someone, they are incapable of devastating you. Yet, she did.

It’s gonna fucking work with DaddysGirl . And it starts with knowing who the fuck she is.

And when I stare at the screen, waiting to see her name flood with neon green, indicating that she too is at her computer screen with anxious fingers and bated breath, I make a plan.

She wants to be my sweet girl? My play thing? My obedient slut?

Then she will let me take control.

If anything, this is a test of compatibility. If she goes with what I decide tonight, her answer lends itself to the natural dynamic that I’m looking for, and it proves that we are an anomaly for sites like Veiled . We are the real deal.

If she begs off, and shies away from me taking control, then maybe this thing that I’ve been obsessing over and living my life around isn’t what I thought it was. Maybe DaddysGirl is just another Pris in the making.

We’ll see.

Because I’m not sure how long it will be—I’m willing to wait all night—I leave my laptop on the edge of my couch and move to the kitchen.

I have a variety of pre-made meals waiting in my fridge, each of them sealed and wrapped with all of their ingredients and nutrients labeled in a black and yellow sticker.

What if she really does just want to take it slow and won’t move forward?

I decide on the protein meatballs and spaghetti squash, ripping the label with my teeth before popping it in the microwave.

The meal spins, the little light inside keeping it well lit as steam slowly forms and lifts off the surface of the chilled food.

No, don’t worry about that until you have to. Don’t borrow trouble .

With another cold beer and a hot meal, I reposition myself at the couch to find that DaddysGirl is online.

And she sent me a message.

One that scrambles my brain, sending all of my plans and intention to take control of this thing out the proverbial window.

DaddysGirl

I don’t know about you, but the longest days on campus make me the absolute horniest

The spaghetti meal sits untouched despite the way my stomach rumbles with burning pangs of all-day hunger.

Suede0989

Pent up energy that you can’t expel

I get it

My response is middle of the road. Acknowledging without crossing the line. I want to charge the line, pick it up with both hands and bring it to a million pieces over my knee, rendering it nothing but shards and shattered pieces.

But I don’t think I’ll have to do that.

DaddysGirl

So tell me Daddy, did you have a long day, too?

Because if we both had long days

…

My swallow is audible, and likewise, so is the heavy thunking of my heart echoing in my eardrums.