I shouldn’t have sex with him unless I’m completely sure and he’s completely committed. If this is a temporary, while-he’s-in-town thing, I don’t want any part of it. I should follow my club rule of no intimacy and make sure our terms are clear before I act. Otherwise, I might be living with a whole lot of heartache and regret. “We should return to the inn.”
“I agree,” Tyler says. There’s no hesitation in his voice, no disappointment. Is that because he doesn’t care? Or because he supports my choice? Is he relieved to have a reason to back out too?
The fact I’m not sure only reinforces my decision.
“Do you want to change before we go?” Tyler asks.
I shake my head and pull on my coat. He grabs our bags, and I follow him out of the room, ignoring the doubts that I chose correctly. If it’s meant to be, there’ll be another opportunity. Another right time. A better one.
The drive back seems to take twice as long as it should. Despite how late or possibly early it is, I haven’t been able to sleep. The farther we drive, the more convinced I become that it’s not a false alarm. I keep seeing all the guest rooms destroyed. Sick dread settles low in my stomach.
Eliot can’t get in touch with the police because cell service is so spotty on these mountain roads. There are brief moments when the signal comes in, but it doesn’t last long enough to complete a call. Tyler takes my hand in his and rests it on my bouncing leg. I didn’t even realize I was twitching. I stop and focus out the windshield as if I can will us there faster.
When we finally get to the house, a single patrol car is out front. Nothing looks off. Alex parks. Stone is already exiting, heading for the police cruiser. I’m slow to get out of the far back seat, stiff from not moving, first from the drive to Colorado Springs, then being strapped to the spanking bench, and now the ride back. My body is not happy with me. I head toward the front door, where my ceramic pots are still cheerfully filled with mums and potato vines.
“Wait for the all clear.” Tyler tugs me back toward him, preventing me from opening the front door.
Stone trots over as the patrol car pulls away. “They have pictures of all the damage.”
“Damage?” I survey my inn but still don’t see anything.
“Around back. And upstairs.”
I grip the handle of the front door. It’s still locked. Tyler takes my keys from my shaking hand. Everything’s fine until I see the back door. I guess I should be happy the intruder didn’t shatter one of the big windows, but the crime scene tape across the broken door rips me in two.
I beeline for the kitchen—no damage. It’s a tiny bit of relief, but I’ll take it. Automatically, I plug in the kettle, fill it with water, and press the button to start it. While the kettle works its magic, I take the first steps up the stairwell.
“Wait,” Tyler calls after me. “Let me check it out first.”
“The Sunflower is mine.” Technically ours. But until recently, he’s never been involved. “She’s my baby, and I will see what’s been done to her.”
The five guest rooms are untouched. The new paint’s still drying. Artwork safe. Tools set in neat piles. It doesn’t make any sense. I take the first few steps to my attic hideaway. My sanctuary. A shiver runs up my spine. Something is off. There is a coldness or a scent. I don’t know, but I grip the rail, forcing myself to take each step to my room.
The bed exploded. There are ribbons of bedding tangled over an eviscerated mattress. My grandmother’s quilt returned to scraps. The pillows have been gutted, leaving their stuffing everywhere like a layer of foamy gore. My closet door is open. Thankfully, my clothes are still on the hangers. Tyler wraps his arm around my shoulders.
I shake him off and go to the bathroom. There is a jumble of hair clips and brushes intermingled with splatted cosmetics on the floor. I pick up a bobby pin. I haven’t used bobby pins in years. I guess I had some in the drawers, lying upside down. Two black holes stare at me from the cabinet where the drawers used to live. I slowly lift my gaze to the red smear across the mirror.
Your next
I laugh. Can’t stop. My knees go weak. This is insanity. I wrap my arms around my stomach and gather my control. Hysteria is an indulgence I can’t afford. “Who did this?”
“We don’t know. Yet.” Tyler’s voice is low, anger contained.
I nod and brush by him back to the gutted bedroom. “I need to get some cleansers. Garbage bags.”
“Stop.”
His Dom voice halts me mid-step. A rush of red clouds my vision. I spin to tell him off, but he’s right there, tugging me against his chest. Holding me close. Hot tears burst out of me, searing tracks down my cheeks. He rubs my back and rocks me gently. His kindness is such a contrast to this violent attack. I shudder. “I know, baby. I got you. We’re gonna take care of this. You’re not alone.”
His words flow over me. Platitudes I’ve used myself when I have an upset guest. But somehow I believe him, and his voice calms me enough to allow the tears to stop. I rest my head on his shoulder and let him hold me up. “We’ll take Alex’s room. Cade can bunk with Eliot. Alex’ll share the single room with Blake. The guys are already moving their things and changing the sheets.”
He has his phone in his hand. Texts are flying.
“Alex is leaving for Glenwood now. The store should open right about the time he gets there. You’ll have a new door before you wake up for breakfast. We can deal with the rest of this afterward. Right now, you’re coming to bed with me. I’m going to hold you while you sleep, and nothing—I mean nothing—will happen to you.” He lifts my chin and gazes into my eyes. “Trust me?”
I nod, numb now that the shock has passed.
“Words.”
