Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Hope
Morning came way too early.
Sunlight pressed through the curtains, bright and unapologetic, and for a few seconds, I lay there staring at the ceiling, my mind blank and pleasantly foggy with sleep. Then the memories crept back in.
The mixer.
The way I’d hovered at the edges with a drink in my hand like it was a prop. Or a darned lifeline.
I rolled onto my side and tugged my new bear closer as a soft groan escaped.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. I knew that. No one had forced conversation, and Master Derek had been very clear about this thing being done at our own pace. Still, disappointment sat low in my belly as I replayed the evening with brutal clarity.
I’d watched the entire thing instead of joining in. Listened to the conversations going on around me instead of speaking. Smiled politely and then excused myself early.
This was not me. I didn’t do that.
I mingled.
Made friends.
Even if those friendships always ended up being only surface-level, I was the queen of meeting, mixing, and making connections.
For someone who’d crossed the country for a dating event, I’d played it painfully safe.
I swung my legs out of bed and padded across the room, pulling the curtain back to let the morning in. The Ranch looked different in the bright light of the morning sun. Dew clung to the grass, and a few people walked the paths with mugs in hand, moving at an unhurried pace.
I pressed my lips together and turned away from the window.
After a quick shower and an even quicker internal pep talk, I dressed and headed toward the main cafeteria where they’d told us all to meet for breakfast. The dining area buzzed with low conversation and the clink of cutlery.
I grabbed a tray, filled my plate, kept my head down, and found a seat near the window.
During my pep talk in the mirror this morning, I’d promised myself today would be different. But first, I needed something in my tummy.
The first scheduled event was mid-morning, and by the time I ate a breakfast sandwich and made my way to the sign-in area, the disappointment from the night before had settled into determination.
A long table had been set up outside one of the smaller halls.
I slowed as I approached, scanning the people around it.
Placards depicted different meet-and-greet options for guests.
These included a Caretakers’ Workshop, Dominants’ Roundtable, Submissives’ Discussion, and one that had my steps stuttering.
Littles’ Creative Hour—Art class with Master Gavin.
I was not jealous of missing out on an hour-long art class with a world-renowned artist.
I shook off the lingering feelings and then noticed him.
He was older than me by a good ten years if the delicious gray in his hair was anything to go by.
His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his button-down, with sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. The gray in his hair and stubble was mixed with thick dark hair, cut into a short and tidy style that suited him perfectly.
He sat comfortably, spine straight, forearms resting on the table. His entire presence shouted Dominant.
His attention lifted as I approached, gaze steady and unhurried. His focus on me—even though not intrusive and overbearing—was enough that I felt suddenly very aware of myself.
My pulse quickened as my mouth watered.
Watered!
I smoothed my expression into one of my practiced, friendly masks and stepped closer.
“Good morning,” he said, voice low and even. Warm and welcoming. “I’m Master Lee Mulder. Excited for your first day?”
“Yes,” I responded, nodding quickly. “Very, thank you, Master Lee.”
I was not surprised in the least that this man was a Master. Every ounce of his being told me that he thrived by being in control.
And every ounce of mine wanted to submit to him.
“Great.”
His smile shifted, brightening just a fraction—I guessed at my use of the term Master so he had verbal confirmation I wasn’t a Dominant myself.
“Name?”
“Hope.”
The effect was immediate. His eyebrows lifted slightly, and his smile deepened, reaching his eyes this time. “Hope,” he repeated, and my name sounded so good coming from his mouth. “That’s a lovely name.”
Heat crept up my neck before I could stop it. “Thank you,” I said lightly.
Master Lee reached for a clipboard, and a pen, then held them out to me. “Go ahead and sign in here.”
I took them, fingers brushing his for just a second. The contact was brief and unremarkable.
Except for the fact it still sent a small jolt up my arm.
I dropped my gaze to the page, pen poised, and that was when I saw it. The heading at the top of the page clearly stated: Littles’ Creative Hour.
My name was already printed on a line below it, about halfway down the sign-in sheet.
My stomach pitched. I stared at the two words, convinced for a moment I’d misread them and there was some other Hope signed up for the Littles’ event. But there it was. Hope Heartland.
My frozen smile fell.
“I...” I stopped myself, clearing my throat. “Sorry, there seems to be a mistake.”
Master Lee tilted his head slightly, watching me with quiet attention. “There is?”
“Yes,” I said, a little too forcefully. “I’m here as a submissive, not a Little.”
He didn’t seem to react to my words at first, but he took way too long to respond, making me feel like I’d done something wrong.
“You’re absolutely welcome to attend the submissive discussion,” he finally responded easily.
Relief fluttered through me. Yes. Only relief.
Then he continued. “But,” he added, his tone mild, “What’s the harm in trying something new?”
I hesitated. Bit my bottom lip. Eyed him for what felt like forever as I felt the flush stretch from my neck to my face.
“It’s only an hour,” he went on. “Low pressure. Just an art class. And if it’s not for you, you walk away having learned that for sure.”
My fingers tightened around the clipboard as I swallowed down my apprehension. “I don’t think—”
“I can go with you,” he said smoothly, “if that helps. The Ranch is the perfect place to explore and push your boundaries a bit.”
That made my breath hitch and excitement course through me.
Excitement that I refused to think too hard about.
I looked up at him again. He might have been oozing confidence and dominance, but there was also a calmness about him.
My chest tightened, and the sound of carefree laughter came from the room behind him.
“I’m not a Little,” I said firmly. More to myself than to him.
Master Lee’s smile didn’t fade.
“That’s okay,” he replied. “You don’t have to be a Little. You could just be curious. Or interested in an hour of creative fun.”
Silence stretched between us.
I glanced down at my name on the page. Then at the empty spot next to it. My pulse beat hard in my ears. This was ridiculous. It was only one hour. Nothing more. People painted things all the time without it meaning anything about who they were or what they wanted.
And it wasn’t like I was committing to anything. I wasn’t making some big ol’ declaration about changing my preferences.
I let out a slow breath and rolled the pen between my fingers.
Master Lee’s smile brightened as I signed my name and handed back the clipboard without a word.
“Good girl,” he said simply, yet those two words hit me in a way that was impossible to deny. I wanted to be his good girl.
I expected him to gesture toward the room and send me on my way. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder, scanning the nearby tables. He lifted a hand slightly, catching the attention of another staff member passing by.
“Hey, Levi,” he called, voice easy. “Can you cover the sign-in for me? I need to escort this lovely lady to art class.”
Levi nodded without hesitation, already angling toward the table. “Sure thing.”
Master Lee handed him the clipboard and gave a few quiet instructions I didn’t quite catch. The exchange was quick and efficient.
Then he turned back to me.
“I said I’d join you,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Still okay with that?”
My mouth went dry at the same time my stomach did a huge somersault. Not to mention the other parts of me that perked up at the thought of spending some more time with the handsome Dom.
This hadn’t been part of the mental script I’d written for myself. Even though he had offered to go with me when I signed on the dotted line (so to speak), I’d imagined slipping into the room alone, anonymous, easy to leave if I needed to. Having him there changed everything I had planned.
I hesitated for half a second too long, then nodded. “Yes. That’s… fine, Sir.”
His smile returned, calm and devastating to my libido. “After you,” he said, gesturing toward the open door.
I stepped forward, acutely aware of his presence just behind me as we crossed the threshold. The room smelled faintly of paint, paper and wood glue. Laughter bubbled up from one of the tables.
Even though my hands had gone clammy, and my heart was racing, I told myself I was still in control. Agreeing to this meant nothing beyond curiosity and a slight change of pace.
But as the door closed softly behind us, cutting off the outside noise, I couldn’t ignore the way my heartbeat had picked up.
It was only an hour, I reminded myself.
And Master Lee was coming with me.