Ranch Daddy

“Taking treats into your office?” the cheerful young woman behind the counter asked as she completed my order.

I laughed. “You’d think that, but I’m taking all these to my—” I froze for a second. Did I dare call Blake my boyfriend? Yes, I did. “My boyfriend.”

“You sure about that?”

“That he’ll eat them all, or that he’s my boyfriend?”

She laughed. “Either.”

“I’ll probably eat at least a few, and it’s…”

“Complicated?”

I laughed. “It actually is.” I added two coffees to our order, and she rang me up.

“Enjoy,” she said as she handed me the bag.

I grinned. “I will.”

I smiled as I crossed the street and entered the hotel. I arranged for the rest of our breakfast, then headed up to the room.

Balancing the bag of pastries and the coffee while trying to quietly slip back into the room proved challenging. Blake stirred as the door clicked closed, but I couldn’t tell if he was awake. When I set the drink tray and the bakery bag on the table in front of the couch, Blake rolled over again. This time he stretched, opened his eyes, and smiled at me. “Do I smell coffee?”

I nodded.

“And cinnamon rolls?”

I held up the bag I brought back with me. “There is a cinnamon roll in here and a lot of other goodies. Bacon, eggs, and grits are on the way from room service too.”

“You went out and got pastries for me?”

“You don’t have to sound so shocked.”

“I’m only shocked because you’re always so groggy first thing in the morning.”

“People are supposed to be groggy at five a.m.”

Blake snorted.

“You always take care of me, so this morning I wanted to take care of you. You were sleeping late—well late for you—and I didn’t want you to wake up and be hungry.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Blake rose from the bed and grabbed one of the robes we’d discarded on the floor.

“I wouldn’t object to you leaving that off.”

He laughed. “Didn’t you say there was room service on the way?”

“If I were the delivery person, I wouldn’t object either.”

Blake shook his head at my ridiculousness. “I still think it’s best if I put something on.”

“If you actually want a chance to eat your breakfast, it probably is.”

“What all have you got in here?” His eyes widened as he opened the bag. One by one, he laid his choices out on napkins on the table. “Wow. Did you really think I could eat all of this plus a hot breakfast?”

“I got them all because I wasn’t sure what you liked best, and I was kind of hoping you’d share these with me.”

He laughed. “Take your pick.”

“No. I got these for you. You pick first.”

“I would happily eat any and all of these, but sticky buns are my absolute favorite.” He picked up the large pecan-filled pastry and took a bite. “Wow. That’s really good. Did you get these at the bakery across the street?”

“You noticed it too?”

“I do tend to keep an eye out for food wherever I am.”

I ran my hand along his flat stomach. “Of course you do. As hard as you work, you burn it all off crazy-fast.”

“That is one of the advantages of working yourself half-to-death on a ranch. You really can eat whatever you want.”

There was a knock on the door that saved me from suggesting I keep doing ranch work so I had that advantage too.

Blake did in fact finish his plate of hot breakfast while also making a good dent in the pastries. I ate nearly as much. He forced me to reveal my favorite pastry—chocolate croissant—and insisted I eat it, but I made him try a bite. We both agreed that the next time we were in Houston we would go back to that bakery. Of course, we might not ever get the chance to do it together.

When we finished eating, Blake brushed my hair off my forehead and gave me a gentle kiss. “Thank you for this, my sweet boy.”

“I want you to know how much I appreciate you, Daddy. If it would make you happy, I’d bring you breakfast every day. I’d even get Maryellen to teach me how to cook so I could make you breakfast. I’d do anything for you.”

Blake pulled me to him and kissed me softly. “I would be very happy to have you cook me breakfast, but you make me happy just by being you, and you make me even happier when you believe in yourself.”

“I believe I could bring you cinnamon rolls and sticky buns every single day.”

Blake laughed and tickled my sides until we nearly fell off the couch. When we righted ourselves, he pulled out his phone and sighed. “It’s nine. We should—”

“I don’t want to leave here.”

“Me either. I want more time with you too, Riley, but let’s make the most of what we do have. We can take the back roads home, make a few stops, and enjoy the scenery.”