I head upstairs after explaining I need to get to the job site early since the architect will be there and she’s a total ball-busting pain in my ass. As I open the door to my room, my phone rings with a video call from my mom. I can’t help but smile as I answer. “Hi, Momma.”
Her voice comes out in digital chunks and her face is frozen, only partially displayed on my screen. Shoot. “Let me call you back.”
I hang up and voice call her, cursing the fact that high speed internet still isn’t available at the ranch. She answers right away and puts me on speaker. “Daddy’s here too. Sorry about the video. I had to try.”
“No problem. Hey, Daddy.”
“Son, how’re you doing?” It’s been a couple weeks since we’ve spoken.
“Good. Staying busy with the construction. How about you?”
“We had to call you. It’s so exciting,” Momma bursts out sounding like a little kid. “Your Daddy is officially on the ballot to run for sheriff.”
“You are?” I’m shocked. He mentioned thinking about it but I didn’t know he actually did anything to follow up. “When did you decide that?”
“Got tired of the sheriff bullying your momma. Neighbors got together and secured the signatures I needed to be on the ballot. So I guess I’m running.”
I’m speechless. I have no idea what this will mean if Daddy wins. But I’m happy and proud of him for running. I tell him so, and catch up on the news of the ranch. Before long I’m yawning into the phone.
“We’ll let you go, son,” Momma says recognizing I’m half asleep already probably.
“Love you,” I mumble and they reply before I end the call. I miss them more than phone calls can fix, but it’s better than nothing.
Three
Alex
I’m late. The big dinner and stress of talking about the rules for the club gave me a sleepless night. Or would’ve but I finally dropped sometime after midnight. I rub my eyes as I head down the stairs, my hair still damp from the quick shower I took to wake up. Gonna have to be careful with the power tools today.
Breakfast is laid out on the buffet. The number of hot plates and warmers is impressive. Amy still cooks for us like we’re guests of the inn. Stone and Tyler are filling their faces. Amy comes out of the kitchen with a carafe in one hand.
“You’re here.” She stops next to me. “I assumed you’d already left for the site.”
“Should’ve.”
“Coffee?”
I nod and she fills a mug for me. “I’ll put it on the table.”
I set my jaw when she places the cup at the empty place next to Sonja. Not a problem. I’ll just keep my head down, eat, and leave. With a clack of the tongs, I find space for two more slices of bacon on my loaded plate. Once the lid is back in place, covering the dish of the few remaining pieces, I turn to face the gorgeous red head I should be avoiding. I don’t want to make small talk. I don’t want to ask her where she’s from. I don’t want to keep arguing with my dick about what a good idea it would be to get inside her. The DFW airline tags on her bags were all the warning I need. Besides, brightly colored animals are dangerous.
Amy’s making small talk so I don’t say a word when I place my plate and take my seat. I shovel in the delicious food with less appreciation than it deserves. I can’t spend too long around the woman next to me who smells better than the bacon and coffee. My mouth is watering for all the wrong reasons.
“What kind of books do you write?” Amy asks and I can’t help but wait for the answer. Why do I care? It’s not like I’m gonna go out and buy her book and beg her to sign it. I shovel in another mouthful.
“Romance.” Her cheeks turn a cute shade of pink. She probably writes those sweet historical my momma likes.
“I used to read a lot of romance back in the day.” Stone could have said he like to paint his toenails pink and I wouldn’t have been more surprised. “We used to pass them around my unit while waiting for things to happen. What kind of romance do you write?”
She puffs up her chest, lifting her breasts unnecessarily. “Contemporary erotic romance. Mostly BDSM.”
I choke as my eggs go down the wrong pipe. A gulp of coffee clears up the mess enough for me to speak. “What doyouknow about BDSM?”
Everyone at the table is staring at me. I probably could have worded that question better or used a softer tone. But seriously, what the fuck does this woman know about bondage and submission? And why am I so desperate to hear her answer?
The pink of her cheeks darkens to a shade only a true redhead can achieve. An image of her naked with a red thatch between her legs flashes through my mind. What the fuck is this woman doing to me?
“I do a ton of research online. I have to because there isn’t a community or club or anything in my conservative small town. But I get on the forums and talk to people who are in the lifestyle.” She drags her fork through what’s left of the eggs on her plate. “Without the funds to travel and no one to take me to a club—I do the best I can. It’s difficult. My current book has me tied in knots.”
