Grumpy Cowboy (Single Dad Collection)

“Better?”

“Uh-huh,” she says, and then she’s off again on her boots, the sounds of them click-clacking across the hardwood floor as she makes her way into the kitchen.

Before I know it, those boots are heading my way again, only this time, a frozen bag of mixed veggies and a pill bottle are in tow.

“What’re ya doin’, Joe?”

“You need to ice your knee, Daddy,” she responds and sets the bag carefully on my knee before I can stop her. “And you need to take the medicine that your doctor told ya to take.”

“Baby, I’ve been icin’ this knee all day. And I already took medicine earlier.”

“That’s real good, Daddy, but you need to ice it more, and you need to take your medicine again.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” she answers, and that sassy hand of hers is on her hip again.

I furrow my brow. “And who put you up to this?”

“Dr. Namath, remember?” She rolls her eyes. “He told us all this stuff after your surgery.”

“You remember all that?”

“Of course I do. I want you to get better, Daddy. I want to make sure your knee gets all healed up so we can go horseback ridin’ together again. I miss it so much.”

Shit. If that doesn’t hit me square in the chest, I don’t know what would.

“I miss it too, Joe,” I answer, and once I down a few of the prescription-strength ibuprofen that Dr. Namath gave me after surgery—don’t worry, the bottle is childproof—I reach out my arms for her to sit in my lap. “C’mere, baby. How about we watch a movie before going to bed?”

“Frozen?” she asks, climbing into my lap and smiling up at me. “It’s already in the DVD player.”

Considering I’ve seen that movie more times than any human being should have to see any movie, I know it’s already in the DVD player. To be honest, I’m shocked the damn disk still works.

The man in me wants to say hell no, but because of a little something called unconditional love, the father in me says yes.

“Sure. Why not. Grab the remote and hit play.”

Once Joey gets the movie going, she cozies up to me with her arms around my neck and her head against my chest.

“Love you, Daddy,” she whispers as the opening credits start to play.

I smile down at her and kiss her forehead. “Love you too, Joe.”

It’s moments like these that make me certain I’m exactly where I need to be.

Sure, my original plan didn’t revolve around having a little girl or settling down at the ranch as a single dad. I’d wanted to stay on the rodeo circuit and ride broncs until my body couldn’t handle it anymore.

I’d loved it. Lived for it, even.

But the day Joey came into this world and the nurse placed this tiny human into my hands, everything changed.

I knew, right then, that I’d do anything for this little girl, even if it meant giving up my own dreams to make sure she had a good and stable and happy life.

So, yeah, even though I’ve seen Frozen one thousand times, I’ll keep watching this damn movie if it means I get to experience quiet nights like this with my daughter.

Thirty minutes into the movie, Joey’s tired yawns came quicker and quicker.

And even though she kept telling me she didn’t want to go to bed until the movie was over, about an hour in, her eyes grew too heavy for her to fight the sleep battle any longer.

With my daughter fast asleep in my arms and while bearing most of my weight on my good leg, I carefully ease myself to standing and carry Joey into her bedroom.

Luckily, she’s a tiny thing and it’s not much effort to limp the short distance from the living room, down the hallway, and into her bedroom.

Gently, I lay her down on her bed, and it’s only when her head hits the pillow that her eyes flutter awake.

“Daddy, I’m not tired,” she says, her voice sleepy and adorable.

“Baby, it’s time to go to bed.”

“But the movie wasn’t over.”

I grin down at her. “We can finish it tomorrow night.”

She nods and shuts her eyes again, but a few seconds later, those eyes of hers pop back open. “Oh no, I forgot to tell ya to take a hot bath.”

“What, honey?”

“For your knee, Daddy. The heat will help. Then ya need to ice it again before you go to bed.”

“Baby, it’ll be fine. Go to sleep.”

“No, Daddy, you gotta promise me you’ll do it,” she responds and starts to sit back up in bed. “We can’t go ridin’ if your leg doesn’t get better.”

I smirk down at her. “We’ll figure it all out in the morning,”

Joey glares. “No, we’ll figure it out now.”

Christ.

“Okay, Joe. How about this? If you promise me you’ll go to bed now, I’ll take a hot shower and do some more ice before I go to bed.”