28. Chapter 28
Frankie
I’m going to tie them to my desk for that stunt, Frankie thought, baring her teeth in a smile as she took another order.
It had taken great effort on her part not to get angry with Evan.
For all she knew, the dishwasher breaking was something they had planned weeks ago, long before Evan began responding to Frankie’s dominant side.
But the idea sounded ludicrous even to her.
Was pre-scheduling an appliance breaking something that could be done?
“Who knew we could get slammed on a Thursday?” Andy said, halting in his tracks seconds before they would have collided. He maneuvered his tray of drinks easily away from Frankie’s shoulder.
“I bet it’s because of the new rom-com being filmed. Half the supporting cast are gay as fuck, or at least that’s what’s going around most of my feeds. Hey, what can I get you?” Sloane asked the next patron.
Frankie surveyed her pub with fresh eyes.
There were dozens of new faces milling about, either watching the hockey match on the big flat screen or hovering around pool tables.
A few people had even taken to the small, unoccupied floor space, creating a makeshift dance floor.
She didn’t recognize anyone famous, but Frankie wasn’t one to keep up with the news and didn’t watch many movies.
Whatever was the cause of the unusual influx of patrons, it was a bad night for the dishwasher to break—accidentally or otherwise.
They ran out of plates first, and the only reason Frankie could come up with was that Evan must have been making sure the customers didn’t run out of glasses for all the alcohol they were consuming.
Ensuring her front house staff were alright, Frankie announced she was going to check in with the kitchen, aware she’d need to save Evan.
She hadn’t even pushed the swing door to enter when she heard the shouting match.
“Why would you wait till we’re fucking out before saying anything? We could’ve helped wash!”
“If you were focused on anything besides Rain’s tits, you would’ve seen for yourself!”
Evan’s cheeks were flushed with anger and, Frankie assumed, the rising warmth of the small kitchen. She watched the stare down between her little thief and Dakota for perhaps ten seconds before she clapped her hands.
“Dakota, get out there and bus the tables.”
Dakota swung his gaze to Frankie standing in the doorway, his mouth clamping shut the moment he spotted her. Then he grabbed the clean apron hanging on the back wall and stormed past her in silence.
“You’ve got yourself knee deep in dishes, I see.
” Frankie looked Evan over as she unbuttoned her blazer and hung it on a hook.
Even hungover with her bed still calling to her, Frankie had made herself shower and dress to impress for her shift.
She was of the assumption that the better she looked on the outside, the better she’d feel on the inside.
Today it only seemed to have about a 50 percent success rate.
“I thought I had to do them myself.”
“As much as I’d like that, my business comes first. You dry, I’ll wash,” she instructed, putting on an apron and pulling a hair tie from her pocket. She clasped the flowing curls in a loose ponytail in the back.
“Okay. Umm, thanks.” Evan grabbed a clean, dry cloth while Frankie got to work, dipping her hands into the already sudsy hot water.
It was a good thing she had plenty of fond memories of doing exactly this when she was younger.
Helping with the dishes, cleaning tables, or lounging in the office with her cousin while her uncle worked the pub.
Although she’d never pictured herself following in his footsteps.
That had been her cousin’s dream, not hers.
“This is just like at home. Er … upstairs, I mean.”
Frankie glanced Evan’s way, really looking at them since she suspected they’d broken something of hers again.
None of the earlier frustration simmered to the surface like she expected.
Instead, a tingly kind of warmth spread over her chest at the hopeful look in Evan’s eyes. They were impossible to stay angry at.
“It’s kind of like a date, right? Although if you wanted a date with me, you didn’t need to go through such extreme measures,” Frankie reasoned, easing another plate into the rinse water.
“Date?” Evan stared at her blankly for a second, and then, much to Frankie’s delight, turned red and stammered out, “I didn’t break the washer on purpose. Why would you think that?”
“Oh, I dunno,” Frankie drawled. “Maybe because you’ve been sabotaging the pub since you arrived? The walk-in, the beer tanks? And, well, I saw you break into my office. All part of a grand scheme of revenge, I’m guessing.”
Evan’s enigmatic gaze flashed in defiance, and just when Frankie was certain they’d lash out at her, Evan bowed their head like a punished child. “Yeah, well, I didn’t break this on purpose. Why would I make more work for myself?”
“To disrupt my business, to be petty.” Frankie reached for Evan, wrapping her hand around the base of their neck and pulling them closer. “To get my attention. Which you have, my little thief.”
“Mm-hmm, well, I actually didn’t. Fucking thing broke all on its own. And your attention should wait while we’re at work, Frankie.”
At work. Right. Sighing, Frankie released Evan, even if what she wanted was to bend them over and kiss them senseless before dragging them up to her apartment. Their apartment, for the two of them. Hadn’t Evan just called it home? I love the sound of that.
“Then after, when we’re home, I’ll show you exactly what my attention looks like,” Frankie promised, not missing the faint squeak that left Evan.
“We haven’t gone over safe words yet. Are you aware of the color system?
Or the traffic light system, as some call it,” Frankie asked back in the apartment late that night.
She stripped off her blazer, tossing it on the chaise in the living room, before turning back to Evan.
She reached to undo the first several buttons on her blouse, raising her eyebrow when Evan just stared at her newly exposed skin, slack-jawed. “Eyes up, little thief.”
Evan blinked as if in a daze, slowly lifting their gaze away from Frankie’s cleavage. “Umm, color system?”
“Yes. Unless you already have a safe word in mind, the color system can be great for communication during a scene. You’d tell me if you’re feeling green, yellow, or red when I ask, or at any time you feel uncomfortable or unsure about something.
Green means you like what we’re doing and to continue, yellow is for me to slow down, and red is to stop everything immediately.
” Frankie leaned against the back of the chaise, making sure not to sit on her blazer.
She reached for her hair clip, letting her long curls tumble out past her shoulders.
Evan watched her intently, not missing a thing.
The battle between apprehension and lust in their eyes was one Frankie wanted to put to rest, once and for all.
“Whatever we do, it’s because you’ve told me you’re comfortable enough to try it, but that’s not to say you won’t change your mind midway through a scene.
If that happens, red brings everything to a halt. ”
“Okay. I …” Evan’s gaze roamed slowly over Frankie, from the tips of her now bare toes to her legs still in dress pants, and back to her eyes.
They licked their lips, one of several nervous habits that Frankie had picked up on.
“I want this. I wanna try. I have this need … There’s a part of me I don’t understand fully. ”
“And I can help with that, little thief. Take your boots off and come to me.” Frankie watched as Evan bent to untie their footwear, waited until they were pulling them off before adding, “Don’t forget to place them on the rack.”
Evan’s movements slowed for a millisecond before they dutifully did as requested. Frankie’s mouth curled up in a smile. Evan approached her with uncertain steps, taking her hand when Frankie held it out for them. “That’s good, you’ve made me very pleased.”
Evan blushed, but there was a light in their eyes now. “Thank you,” they mumbled.
“Thank you, what?” Frankie angled her head, studying the glaze of confusion in Evan’s eyes, smirking when they figured out just what she was waiting for. The flush on their cheeks deepened.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Mm-hmm, I do love it when you call me that.” Frankie had loved it when McCoy would call her Mistress; in fact, she was the one who insisted on it in the beginning.
Being called Daddy hit her in an entirely different way.
It made her feel hyper sexy and naughtier than she’d ever been before. She liked that.
Frankie stood and led Evan to the bedrooms, pausing between her room and theirs. “Do I have your permission to use your space for play tonight? Or would you be more comfortable in my room for the first time?”
“Maybe just yours tonight?”
Frankie nodded, understanding the need for space and privacy all too well.
Now more than anything, she wished she owned a house that came with multiple bedrooms as well as a playroom.
Then Evan could retreat to their bedroom when they wanted alone time.
In all the BDSM romances she’d skimmed of McCoy’s, the Dommes always seemed exceptionally wealthy.
In reality, most were just regular people like her. “Very well, little thief. Come.”
Once in Frankie’s room, she drew Evan to her so their back pressed against her chest. Nuzzling their ear with her nose, she inhaled the woodsy scent of their body wash. “Is there anything you’re uncomfortable with when it comes to sex and your body, Evan? I want to make sure no lines are crossed.”