Page 222 of Cowboy Daddies

“What the hell were you trying to do?” he snarled up at her.

“Don’t swear,” she scolded.

Jeb huffed out a sigh. “Don’t get sassy with me, young lady. You’re in trouble.”

She gasped so dramatically that he was scared she might fall off the branch. She let out a small squeal as she slipped, tightening her arms and legs around the branch.

For fuck’s sake.

“Don’t be mad at Casey, Papa,” Wyatt told him with a frown. “She was just trying to hang the swing up. You said you’d put one there but you never did.”

Shit.

Wyatt was right. He had said he’d hang a swing there. But instead he’d built a playground miles away. Because he thought Elise would want her name on something for everyone to see. That had always been her thing.

She’d never do anything that she couldn’t boast about and be congratulated over.

However, Elise wasn’t here anymore.

“You’re right, Wyatt.”

“I am?” Wyatt said, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, you are. I should have put a swing up before now. I’m sorry.” And he felt ashamed that someone who’d only known Wyatt for a few days had tried to do something that he’d said he would do ages ago.

“Oh. Okay. Yeah. What are you going to do about Casey? I think she’s scared of heights.”

“I’m not scared of heights,” Casey said. “I’m just slightly nervous. I don’t understand. I used to climb trees all the time. I just got up here and felt a bit . . . a bit . . .”

“Nervous,” Jeb supplied.

“Yeah, nervous. That’s the word I was trying to think of.”

Jeb shared a look with his son.

“Maybe we should pull over the trampoline, Papa. That way she can jump down onto it,” Wyatt suggested.

Casey let out a high-pitched squeak.

Jeb shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s very safe. There’s only one thing we can do, unfortunately.”

Casey felt Jeb climb out onto the branch she was clinging to.

“Don’t come out here,” she cried. “It can’t hold us both.”

“The branch will be fine,” he said soothingly. “But what you can do is scoot back to me where it’s thicker.”

“I . . . I don’t need your help.”

“Casey,” he said warningly. “You’re stuck there.”

“No, I’m not! I’m good at climbing trees. I just don’t understand what’s going on.”

“When was the last time you climbed a tree?” he asked.

“Um, I don’t know. Maybe six or seven years ago. I used to climb up and down the one by my bedroom window.”

“You used to sneak out of your house?” he asked. “That was naughty.”