2. BRODY
Brody’s bare feet padded along the warm sand as he approached Rufus, his loyal Irish terrier.
“Who does she think she is?” he grumbled to Rufus. “Coming onto my beach and telling me how to behave?” He stroked Rufus’ head. “Sorry the naughty lady tied you up, boy.”
Brody saw that Naomi had attached Rufus’ collar to the sign with a cable tie of all things. There was no way he could undo that without scissors.
Gritting his teeth, Brody realized he had no choice but to go back to Naomi and ask for her assistance.
“Alright, buddy, I’ll be right back,” Brody reassured Rufus with a gentle pat on the head.
The dog whimpered softly.
As Brody made his way back toward Naomi, he reminded himself not to start an all-out war with a woman he hardly knew. People are complicated, he told himself. We all have our own reasons for being . . . the way we are.
He looked at the young woman kneeling on the beach as he approached her. She had curly black hair, dark skin, and large, serious, brown eyes. She was wearing a long, floaty white dress with long sleeves. It looked austere, almost Victorian.
“Hey, Naomi,” Brody called out hesitantly as he approached her. “I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but I could really use your help. I can’t undo that cable tie without a knife or scissors. Do you have any?” He held his breath, waiting for her response, and hoping he wouldn’t regret asking for her help.
Naomi eyed him warily before reaching into her bag and pulling out a small pair of scissors. “Fine, but only if you agree to take your dog off the beach immediately,” she said, handing over the tool. “And don’t forget to take your beer bottle with you. Broken glass can harm the wildlife, you know.”
“Thanks,” Brody muttered, taking the scissors and turning to leave. As he walked away, he noticed that the scissors had a little cartoon rabbit face on them, and the handles were meant to look like ears. He couldn’t help but wonder if Naomi was a Little. Definitely wouldn’t be unheard of in a place like this. Naomi would make a strange sort of Little, though. She didn’t seem naturally submissive and she definitely didn’t seem fun.
On the other hand, she did seem to enjoy rules . . .
For a moment, Brody lost himself in a fantasy, imagining disciplining Naomi for speaking to him so rudely, reminding her who was the one to make rules around here. The idea of disciplining her sent a thrill running through him. It had been a long time since he’d spanked anyone. Maybe he would get the chance to do it again one day.
“Stop it, Brody,” he admonished himself, pushing the thoughts aside. “You’re better off alone. People hurt you.”
He reached Rufus once more, snipping the cable tie and setting Rufus free.
Rufus licked his hand, grateful to have been rescued.
“Looks like you and I have been kicked off our own beach,” said Brody, “so it’s time we headed home.”
***
Brody slammed the door behind him as he entered the lighthouse with Rufus. The sound echoed through the tall, circular tower.
The interior of the lighthouse was a mix of rustic and modern, with weathered wooden beams supporting glass and steel fixtures. It had been like this when he’d moved in, although Brody had carried out a lot of maintenance on the place, looking after it and restoring it to its original splendor. He loved living here. It was his sanctuary. A refuge from the people of the world, and all the dangers they represented.
“Damn her,” Brody muttered under his breath. “Two weeks on my beach.”
Brody wasn’t lying when he said the beach was his. He owned the lighthouse and the private beach that came with it. But he’d made an agreement with Mayor Cooper when he’d bought the place. The agreement stated that the lighthouse had to remain in use, and the beach wasn’t to be tampered with. Which meant Brody wasn’t allowed to build beachside cabins or turn the lighthouse into some kind of Airbnb. Not that he wanted to.
The Mayor also retained some rights to the place, explaining that when public work needed to be carried out, he’d be able to use the lighthouse and beach for those purposes.
Which meant, apparently, employing Little Miss “Follow the Rules” Naomi to sit on his beach taking samples and tying up his dog.
For some reason, Brody couldn’t shake the thought of those rabbit-eared scissors and the possibility of Naomi being a Little. What if she was? He could think up some far more interesting rules for her to follow.
With a sigh, Brody picked up his half-empty beer from the counter and took a long swig. In his mind, the alcohol eased the symptoms caused by his brain injury. The pain, the tremors, the anxiety, the confusion. He knew alcohol wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but it was the crutch he relied on.
“Two weeks,” he repeated to himself, leaning against the window frame as he watched Naomi continue taking samples on the beach. “Guess we’ll just have to see what happens, huh, Rufus?”
The Irish terrier wagged his tail in agreement, and they both settled in for a quiet afternoon of lighthouse maintenance. The lighthouse lens needed cleaning and the generator was due for a check-up. Luckily, now it was spring, and the days were getting longer while the weather was generally good. Which meant less emergency work and more routine work. Brody enjoyed it no matter what, though. He was lucky to have this job.
Just then, Brody’s alarm went off on his phone. “Shoot,” he said. “Physio time.”
Brody had received his brain injury a few years ago. His symptoms had improved since arriving in Little Rock, but they still bothered him. He made sure to do physio every day, as well as practicing his surfing to improve his balance and coordination. Plus, walks in the fresh air with Rufus helped.
Brody rolled out his exercise mat on the floor, and began with some simple stretches that he knew very well by now. As he moved through each exercise, he felt the familiar frustration and determination that accompanied his rehabilitation routine.
“Come on, Brody,” he whispered, pushing himself through another set of leg lifts. “You can do this.”
This morning, he had pulled off a surfing trick he hadn’t managed in years. That was why he was yelling out a celebratory curse word right before he met Naomi. It was a roundhouse cutback—hardly an advanced move, but it required a lot of control in the upper body. Before his accident, Brody could have performed cutbacks in his sleep, but not anymore.
As he transitioned into a new physio exercise, Brody’s eyes inadvertently landed on the calendar hanging on the wall. Today’s date was circled, and it took him a moment to realize why—it was his birthday. Despite the reminder, he didn’t feel any excitement or anticipation. It was just another day, really.
“Happy birthday to me,” Brody said sarcastically, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Looks like I just turned thirty-three, eh?” In the past, he might have gotten a call from his father on this day, but not anymore. And thank god for that.
Once his exercises were done, Brody headed up to the lantern room. He caught sight of Naomi out of the window on the way up, but shook her out of his mind.
He had enough problems to deal with, and fantasizing about a DDlg age play romance wasn’t going to make things any easier. After all, Brody wasn’t a Daddy Dom anymore. And Naomi almost certainly wasn’t a Little.