He stopped her when he heard her stomach rumbling. He quit pushing and waited until the swing’s arc dropped by more than half.
“All right, little one, time for dinner,” he said as he grabbed the chains and slowed the swing’s motion even further.
“But I was almost high enough!” Carri complained as her feet dragged in the sawdust covering the ground until she stopped.
“High enough for what?” Rooker asked as he pulled her off the swing.
“High enough to touch the sky.”
“Your stomach is rumbling loud enough to disturb the neighbors. I would be a very bad Daddy if I ignored a grumbly tummy. Time to eat some dinner.”
“But I want to swing some more.” Carri pulled on his arm, trying to pull him back to the swing set. “Pleeeease?”
Her shifting into a Little mindset so easily surprised Rooker. “Come eat dinner. Or would you rather get a few spanks first and then eat your dinner?”
“That’s not very nice,” Carri huffed in a tone that hinted at the beginnings of a tantrum.
Rooker turned to face her. He fought to keep a stern expression on his face as he looked into her eyes. “A Daddy’s job is to keep his Little girl healthy, happy, and safe. By ignoring your tummy, I would not be a good Daddy, now would I?”
Carri huffed a sigh and dropped her head to look at her sneakers. “But I want to swing.”
“And after we eat dinner, you can swing for a few minutes more before we head home.”
“All right. I guess I am a little hungry,” Carri admitted as her stomach gave another long, loud, gurgling rumble.
“Good girl,” Rooker said as he turned and patted her butt. “Let’s go eat some dinner.”
Carrie’s squealed, “No spanks!” had Rooker throwing his head back and laughing in delight.
Chapter Five
“You live here?” Carri asked an hour later as Rooker turned into a driveway and stopped at a gate that crossed the driveway about ten feet back from the road. A moment later, the gate slowly swung open.
After eating dinner at the park, she’d played on the swings until the streetlights came on and Rooker declared it was time to leave. Now they were at his house, a fifteen-minute drive from where the convention was being held.
Carri looked around in awe. The property appeared to be several acres, with a fence around the whole thing. The house looked nearly identical to the farmhouse she and her sisters had grown up in.
It was two stories tall with a wide porch that went around both sides. It was the same era, if not the same design as her home. While their house was white with black shutters and a bright-red front door, the security lights that came on as Rooker had driven in showed his house to be pale gray with a deep plummy-purple front door and shutters.
What she could see of the front yard was lushly green and neatly cut, though the flowerbeds were overgrown and in need of attention. Carri’s fingers began to itch, wanting to dosome weeding. But it was growing darker by the minute, and exhaustion of the busy day being with people was catching up with her. She had perked up while swinging, but on the drive there it had become a fight to keep from curling up on her seat and going to sleep.
“Yes, this is my home,” Rooker said once he parked and released his seatbelt. “Is that a problem?”
“No. Oh, no.” Carri giggled. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she found a picture of the Smith family’s farm. Turning it toward him, she said, “This is my house.”
Rooker looked surprised, then chuckled. “Okay, I see we have the same taste in architecture.”
Carri shrugged. “We inherited the house from our parents who got it from their parents. My great-grandfather built it for his bride because her father refused to give them permission to marry until he had a solid, well-built house for her to live in.”
Rooker looked impressed. “That’s a wonderful story.”
“Yeah, too bad the government doesn’t care about the farm’s history. They’re going to bulldoze the house and barns to put a road across the property,” Carri said as tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, little one. I’m sorry.” Rooker leaned across the center console and gave her a quick hug.
Carri sniffed and wiped her hands over her cheeks. “It’s okay. The farm has become too much for us to handle these days. We all work full-time jobs and have now started these side businesses that are taking up more and more of our time. At least Lottie’s real estate attorney friend made the government pay a lot more money for the farm than they first offered. We’re renting an apartment on the edge of town until … whatever happens.”
“Whatever? Is that a time to come? Or an event? Or something else?”
