Winterland Daddies (Second Chance Ranch Book 1) Read online

  "Slade, Slade dear, come on down to dinner now." Nan knocked on the door to my room, and I pulled it open.

  "I ate in town, Nan. I told you I was going to on Fridays. Have to meet the truck and didn't want you to have to wait on me, if it ran late."

  "Well, come on down to dinner, anyway, and keep an old woman company. I want you to meet my new charge."

  I eyed her suspiciously. "Your new charge? I thought you said your days of taking in foster kids was over?" The last one had ended badly and nearly destroyed her when he took his own life out in the barn. She had called it quits after that, saying she was getting too old to have the impact with the young ones that she used to.

  It had been two years since she had brought a teenager to stay at the ranch. She still did her outreach programs and helped out however she could, but no teenagers had been taken in full time.

  Nan sighed. "Don't get your britches in a twist, Slade, my boy. I know where my limits lie. But this girl, oh, Slade. She just needs a break in this world."

  "And you have to be the one to give it to her?"

  "If not me, then who?"

  I sighed. It was a line I had heard countless times, even about myself, and I knew then, her mind was made up. "All right, fine. I'll come to dinner."

  Nan smiled, tightening the shawl around her shoulders as she turned to go, with me close behind her. "Oh, Slade, there's just something special about this girl. I can feel it. You know, she reminds me a lot of you, back when you first came here."

  Nan spoke fondly, but the comparison turned my stomach. I had come to Second Chance Ranch over a decade before at the ripe age of twelve, the youngest charge Nan had ever accepted, and I had been a certified dick. A problem child with anger issues and zero respect for authority. People had hated me, and I didn't blame them. I had hated myself. Nan swore she saw something in me, and she refused to let up, until she had brought it out. It had been nearly thirteen years ago. Now Nan was family, and I'd be damned if I was going to let anyone treat her the way I once had.

  I had descended the stairs wearily and sat down at the table next to Nan, straight across from the thinnest, straggliest, most angry looking teenager I had ever laid eyes on, and I had seen my fair share.

  Her brown hair fell past her shoulders in thin greasy locks, and a pair of boys Levi's hung on her skinny frame. Her plain blue T-shirt was stretched all to hell and several sizes too big. Her cheekbones protruded and her eyeballs sunk into her face. She had been neglected and malnourished; I could tell from looking at her.

  I could also see that she was beautiful. Even when she filled out, those cheekbones would be stunning, and her long lashes framed gray-blue eyes. Her heart shaped lips were currently fashioned into an angry snarl, but if they hadn't been, oh, boy. And it wasn't about her looks, either. You could tell she had been through a lot, but you could tell that, deep down, there was something special, just waiting to be exposed to the world. Yeah, I could see what Nan saw. Dammit.

  I had been twenty-four, and she was fifteen, at the time. I had kept my distance; there was more than enough work on the ranch to keep me busy. It had been easy regarding her as a surly younger sister, and mostly, keeping an eye out for Nan. Nan had worked her magic with Merry, just like she had with all of us. With strict rules, a thin switch, and a giant heart.

  Then Merry had turned eighteen, graduated high school, and Nan had given her a job on the ranch with the horses and the outreach program. She had been underfoot of me all damn day, every damn day, and when Nan had taken her yearly sojourn to visit her sister in California, well, that's when it had happened. For me, anyway.

  "Slade?" Merry's voice interrupted my trip down memory lane, and I stared blankly into her eyes, shaking my head as if to clear thoughts of the past. What had I been about to say? Oh, yeah.

  I cleared my throat and hoped she couldn't tell the effect she was having on me. "Now listen here, little girl," I continued. "I don't much appreciate the way you have been talking about yourself, and I sure as hell don't appreciate the way you keep bringing the conversation around to other things, when we are supposed to be focusing on what's most important here."

  "Which is?" she deadpanned.

  "You, going home, where you belong. You packing up the mess you claim to have made of your life and going back to your family. Letting them take care of you. You seem to have forgotten, but Nan, she loves hard, and that love can be mighty healing. Now, I don't know you well these days, this much is true, but seems to me a little bit of healing love is just what you need, right now."

  "Home? Family?" Each word was a derisive scoff. "What home? What family?"

  My eyes narrowed to slits, and my answer came between gritted teeth. "The ranch is your home. Nan, Blake, and I—we're your family."

  "You've never told Nan what really happened between us, have you? And now, she wants me back, and you and Blake would rather put up with me than tell her the truth and risk her wrath, is that it?"

  My hands balled into fists at my side. "No, Merry, that's not it. If it's that important to you, I'll call Nan and tell her the truth right now, but I can guarantee you it's not going to change a damn thing, so all you are doing here is stalling the inevitable."

  Her head jerked up and down. I had never seen so much sarcasm packed into a simple head nod before. "The inevitable, huh? Which is?"

  The inevitable in my mind at the moment was her butt, my hand and Blake's belt, but I wasn't going to say that. "You, home, where you belong. We never asked you to leave, little one. You did that on your own."

  "You never would have. I knew that then, and I know it now. But I didn't deserve to stay, and I don't deserve to go back."

  This was a dead end convo, going nowhere. She had a gift for getting under my skin that way. I pulled myself back to a standing position and strutted down the small hall without a word. I opened each door as I went, until I found the bedroom. Merry was hot on my heels.

  "Slade! Slade David! What are you doing? You can't just come here, into my home, and invade my privacy like this! Get out of my bedroom!" She was jumping on me, grabbing for my arms, and trying her hardest to stay my mission. It wasn't working. I shrugged her off and opened the closet, pulling two large suitcases off the top shelf and tossing them open, onto the bed. Armfuls of clothes and shoes followed.

  "What are you doing?" she shrieked, pulling clothes out as quickly as I put them in. I grabbed her wrist and held it.

  "I'm helping you pack. Talking was getting us nowhere, and I've always been more of an action man, anyway. Now you can either help me, or you can sit down and be quiet, but if you get in my way again, you're gonna find out what my next course of action will be, capiche?"

  Merry

  There was no mistaking the meaning behind his threat. It was one I had heard before. I hadn't heeded it, then, and I had been quickly tossed across his knee like a rag doll, with my panties and jeans around my ankles getting my backside paddled with a horse brush, while the horses looked on.

  There were no horses, no brush, and no way in hell I was letting Slade spank me like an errant child.

  I sat on the bed, between the suitcases and watched him.

  "I never said I was going," I pouted.

  "No, you didn't. I did," he confirmed with a smirk. "As you've repeatedly pointed out, you're not exactly the best at making wise decisions these days. So I went ahead and made this one for you. You're welcome."

  "Oh, gee thanks," I muttered sarcastically. "I've just been waiting for some giant Neanderthal cowboy to swoop in and make all my decisions for me, since I'm just a lowly young girl child, unable to make them for myself."

  Slade snickered, not one to let my overdramatic digs faze him. "You said it, darling, not me. C'mon now; if you help, this will go a hell of a lot faster. We're leaving at sunup, and I'd like to get a few hours of sleep before we hit the road."

  Chapter 3

  Blake

  With Nan out of commission, it was my job to get Merry's old
room ready for her. And it had to be done the way Nan would have done it. Nothing but the best. Fresh sheets, fresh flowers, family photos, girly bath stuff, all that jazz. Nan had given me a long list, and I had followed it to a tee. I had also taken the liberty of making sure the room was fully equipped with the things I anticipated it needed to have.

  Merry had an old hope chest in the closet, stuffed with winter blankets and romance novels she hadn't wanted us to know she was reading. Underneath all that were a Dom's essentials—wooden paddle, small cane, condoms, lube, arnica, the works. I wasn't getting ahead of myself, I was just being prepared. Like a boy scout.

  At twenty-six, I had been afraid of letting Nan know that I had feelings for Merry. At thirty-one, I was more afraid of not getting the chance to right old wrongs. And I was one to face my fears head on.

  We were family, Nan, Slade, Merry and I, whether Merry knew it or not. And if she didn't know, she soon would. Slade had said we had our work cut out for us, not only in convincing Merry to accept our forgiveness, but in convincing her to forgive herself. The idea that she hadn't been able to was breaking my heart in half.

  But then, Merry had never been one to forgive anybody, least of all, herself. I guess that's how we had ended up here in the first place. With my hands full of fresh sheets, I sank down onto the full size bed, remembering.

  I had just finished painting the old woodshed, and my hands were full of paint and supplies. As I came around to the front of the shed and kicked the door open, every hair on my arm stood on end. "Who's here?"

  The only answer was a soft cry. Setting the paint on the shelf, I went to investigate. The shed was small but crowded, with shelves and equipment. The cries continued, and I followed the sound to a bench in the back corner.

  Merry sat, looking dejected, hugging her knees, with her hair falling in her face, hiding her tears. Not knowing what to do, I sat next to her.

  "Bad day?"

  "I lost my temper with her." She spoke without looking up. "I lost my temper and I yelled, and I said mean things. These kids don't need that here. This is supposed to be their safe place. Nan would have never done that. She never loses her temper."

  "No, Nan doesn't lose her temper, "I agreed slowly. "But Nan has something you don't."

  "What's that? A heart?"

  "Really? You have to ask? You're sitting here on the bench, in the woodshed, where I know for a fact Nan tanned your hide plenty of times, and you have to ask what she has that you don't?"

  That garnered a chuckle, followed by a new round of tears. "That would make it easier," she wailed.

  "What would? If you could take a switch to them?"

  She had finally looked up then, revealing a face streaked with crocodile tears and the remnants thereof. "No, if I still had someone to take a switch to me!"

  I laughed out loud then, but it was a feeling I could relate to.

  "I'm serious!" she cried, as the tears continued to fall. "I can't get rid of this horrible guilt! The more I try, the worse it gets! I keep thinking about every unkind or inpatient word I've ever said to them. Blake, I'm not half as nice to those poor kids as I should be."

  "That's unfortunate. That is our job here. Sometimes, our words are the only kind things those kids hear all month. You know this better than anyone, Meredith."

  At the use of her given name, she brushed her hair from her eyes and peered up at me. "Why are you calling me that? Nobody calls me Meredith here," she said slowly as the blush crept across her cheeks. "Unless I'm in trouble."

  "Well, don't you think you ought to be?" I asked sternly. "If you don't receive a consequence for your actions, you won't be absolved of the guilt or learn from your mistakes and do better in the future."

  The look she gave me was one of interest mixed with a high level of suspicion and hope. "Do you really think it would help?"

  "Didn't you just say it had helped in the past?" I questioned.

  "Are you seriously offering?" she countered.

  "Oh, no. I'm not offering. I'm telling you what is going to happen."

  I watched as her jaw dropped into a quiet "o" of surprise. I tucked a lone strand of hair behind her ear and wiped another tear from her face with the crook of my finger.

  "You need to learn to forgive yourself, baby girl, and you also need to learn the lesson that our job here is to show kindness, forgiveness, and the things these kids aren't getting anywhere else."

  She nodded, tearfully, her face full of longing, and I could see that she wanted what I was offering. That's why she had hidden in the woodshed, of all places. The choice was telling.

  I took her hand and helped her stand. "These need to go, baby girl," I said, indicating her jeans.

  Wordlessly, without breaking eye contact, she worked the buckle on her belt. I watched as the dark jeans fell to her knees. She stared at me, pleading with her eyes. I took her hand and guided her over my knee. Once she was in position, I pushed her panties down to rest where her jeans were. She gave a small peep of protest, but I ignored it. "A spanking works best on a bare bottom, baby girl."

  A host of implements hung above the bench where Merry had been sitting, and I chose a small maple paddle. Wood was always a good bet when you needed to make an impact quickly. I set it beside me on the bench and started with my hand.

  Her bottom was milky white and freckled in places, each cheek a perfectly round canvas for the artwork I was about to create. It would be a nice deep pink by the time I was through.

  I lectured as I spanked, reminding Merry of the importance of our work and the healing that so many broken children had experienced here—reminding her that she had an opportunity to be an important part of that and that she just might be the person who changed someone's life. I didn't stop until her entire bottom was a soft pink and she was weeping softly, promising to do better.

  And then I picked up the paddle. I heard her sharp intake of breath as I rested the cool wood atop her rosy back end. She whimpered as it occurred to her what was about to happen, but she didn't fight it. Poor girl, it had probably been a year since she'd had a good spanking.

  The first good whack of the paddle flattened her bottom, and she reared up, arching her back, but didn't rise off my lap. I was going to have to up my game. The next ten fell fast, with no space in between them. She wiggled and squirmed but didn't make a peep. I sucked in my breath. God, she needed this.

  "You need to learn to forgive yourself, baby girl," I growled, resting the paddle on the small of her back.

  "I caaan't!" she wailed, pushing her bottom up in a gesture that was unmistakable in meaning. She wanted more. Needed it, really. I lifted the paddle, again, and delivered a whopper that had her crying out in pain.

  "You need to let things go. Everybody has bad days. Next time you see that girl, you will apologize and let go of your mistake. That's just as important as being kind, you know. Owning up and taking responsibility for your mistakes—it's a life skill—and one these kids can learn from you." I punctuated my directive with a barrage of swats to her sit spots.

  "Yes, Blake." Her answer was a soft hiss between clenched teeth, and I could hear her fighting back a sob. We were getting somewhere.

  "You're a good girl, Merry. You're taking your spanking so well. I'm going to give you ten more, and I want you to think about what I've said today and how you are going to do better tomorrow."

  "Yes, Blake."

  I counted the last ten aloud, delivering them to the fleshiest part of her bottom, alternating cheeks. I spoke no words other than the numbers after each stinging swat made its impact, giving her space to process my prior speech.

  After the tenth swat fell, she finally let the sobs out that she had been holding in, collapsing against my lap as they escaped her heaving body. Setting the paddle down, I rubbed her swollen bottom, admiring the deep pink shade. When the sobs died to whimpers, I slowly pulled up her panties and helped her into a sitting position beside me.

  I'll never forget the gratefulness i
n her eyes as she looked up at me with awe. "I feel so much better," she whispered. "Thank you, Blake. I feel like I can breathe again, without hating myself."

  I took her hand and held it over my racing heart. "Oh, baby girl," I whispered. "Don't hate yourself. You are worth so much more than that."

  "I wish I knew how to work past those feelings without the physical pain. I try, but I just can't seem to. Not without the release of a spanking. What's wrong with me?"

  "There's nothing wrong with you, Merry. You, too, are still just a child, a teenager, healing from a hard life." She blinked back tears, and I sighed. "I'll tell you what, next time it gets to be too much and those old feelings rise up and you just can't seem to let them go, come find me."

  "And you'll spank me? Until I feel better?"

  "If that's what I think you need." I chose my words carefully, making it clear that I was the one who would retain control of this situation, even though, deep down, I knew that it wasn't true. I had already lost my heart. "Just come find me," I finished, brushing a soft kiss upon her cheek.

  And she had.

  What we had, had begun simply, innocently, and I had learned, after she left, what she had with Slade had begun the same way, shortly after. We each offered different things and covered different areas of her life. Each relationship had begun platonically and progressed slowly, and neither had ever reached consummation. That fact was the only consolation as we picked up the pieces when she'd left. We fought, sure. We had always been close, but after the yelling and punching had stopped, we had come to realize that there was only one solution. And that was only if we ever saw her again. For the first year, we searched, and after a while, we gave up and moved on, at least in theory. But neither of us ever really did. We loved Merry. She had captured our hearts and filled needs we hadn't even known we had. She had shaped us and made us who we were, and then she'd left, taking the best parts of us with her.