Chapter 6 #2
She dragged her gaze away and back to the contraption.
The little girl stretched toward a peg with her free hand. She couldn’t quite reach it.
The audience yelled encouragement.
Her face crumbled when her fingers touched and slipped off the handhold. “I can’t,” she wailed. “I can’t do it.”
“You can.” Atticus strolled closer and looked up.
“Never limit yourself with a can’t word.
” With appalling ease—and no harness—he climbed the wall, looking like the most devastatingly handsome Spiderman ever.
Once at the girl’s level, he secured himself with a hand on a peg and touched the child’s cheek lightly. “Take a breath, baby.”
Under his steady gaze, the girl did.
“That a girl.” Atticus’s low rumble barely reached Gin. “Look at the peg to the right of your foot. If you move there, you’ll be able to reach the next handhold. And then you can figure out the rest.”
Upper lip pulled between her teeth, the girl studied his solution. “I see it!” Eyes bright with delight, the girl shifted her weight, carefully gripped the peg Atticus had indicated, and then charged upward right to the top.
Cheering broke out.
Atticus had followed her for a few more pegs and then…stopped. Gin squinted at him. Was he sweating? His shoulder muscles looked bunched with tension; his fingers were white on the handholds.
Perhaps he was worried about the girl? Yet she’d already reached the top.
When she waved her little fist in victory, he grinned.
Gin’s heart gave a wrenching tug. Why did seeing his open pleasure in the child’s success make her want to laugh and cry and hug him? This man was something special.
Behind her came a high scream.
Startled, she spun around.
On the boardwalk, the preschooler with the tiger stripes had fallen. As blood ran down his knee, he wailed loudly. The little girl with him burst into tears of sympathy.
“The Bassinger kids.” Becca said. “Their mother lets them run wild.” She nudged the gawkers to one side and sailed through.
Gin followed. “I’ll take the boy.”
As Becca knelt beside the girl, Gin sat down next to the little boy. “Oh, honey, you’ve got yourself a boo-boo there, don’t you?”
Without further invitation, he flung himself into her arms, almost knocking her over.
“Well, sugar.” Half laughing, she set her purse down, snuggling and rearranging him on her lap.
“Let’s take a look then, honeyboy.” Not more than a shallow abrasion, she decided.
Pointing to the barrel of bottled waters, she lifted her voice to the surrounding people.
“Will someone fetch me one of those, please.”
A second later, she heard a bottle cracked open, and the chilled plastic was placed in her hand. “Thank you,” she said without looking up.
A dowsing of water washed away the dirt from the scrape and made the little boy whine. His head stayed firmly buried against her shoulder.
As his skin dried, she used her free hand to dig in her purse. She hadn’t removed her mini first aid packet from when she worked at the family clinic. There. A quick glance showed the options. “Honey, do you want a butterfly or a Transformer on your knee?”
The boy’s head popped up. He solemnly studied the Band-Aids she held up. A shaky finger pointed at the Transformer.
“Excellent choice, darling.” But she couldn’t reach his knee with both hands. “Let’s move you—”
His arms squeezed her waist. He wasn’t going to budge, was he?
“Well, then…”
A low chuckle came from above her, and Atticus knelt beside them. “You look like you’ve been in a battle there, soldier,” he said. “How about I cover your wounds up?”
A thumb in the mouth prevented any reply, but big eyes watched the cop as he plucked the Band-Aid from Gin’s hand, tore it open, and applied it fast and easy. Only a little squirm showed the child had felt anything.
“Well, there, don’t you look fine?” Gin kept her gaze on the Band-Aid, not on Atticus’s lean fingers. Was the man good at everything? Ropes and orgasms…and Band-Aids. “Can you thank the detective?”
His thank you was garbled by the thumb still in his mouth.
“There’s their mother.” Becca set the girl down and pointed toward the grocery store.
“Mama!” The girl dashed across the street.
The boy scrambled up, almost tripped again, and followed his sister, all owies forgotten.
Grinning, Gin watched as the two barreled into their mother, almost spilling her sack of groceries. Shaking her head, the woman bent to examine the owie. She might not watch them as closely as she should, but there was love there.
“All fixed.” Becca glanced at Atticus, then Gin. “I’m going to grab some barbecue. I’ll get you some too, Gin.” Without waiting, she headed across the street.
While Gin was still staring after her, Atticus smoothly rose to his feet. He grasped Gin’s upper arms and pulled her up. “You did a nice job there, counselor. You’re good with injured soldiers.”
The compliment warmed her heart and left her at a loss for words. “Ah, thank you.”
He regarded her thoughtfully, making her too, too aware of his size and the strength in the fingers still curled around her arms. He was holding her in place. The knowledge sent a shiver up her spine.
“Gin,” he said softly. “Seems like we’re not done with each other.”
What? “But—yes, we are.”
He touched her cheek, watching her intently. Could he see the way she melted inside?
He could. “Liar. I won’t push you…here. But I’ll be at Jake and Kallie’s party tomorrow night.”
When she couldn’t manage more than a stare, she saw his smile, sharp as a scimitar. “That’s an invitation to play, pet.” He ran a finger down her cheek, then sauntered away toward the climbing wall.
After a second, Gin realized she was gulping breaths. She glanced around. Two teenage girls gave her envious stares before turning their attention back to Atticus.
Becca was in line by the firemen’s grill and hadn’t been watching.
Breathe slower, Gin. Most difficult to do. Because Atticus wanted her at a BDSM party. Because he’d said, “I won’t push you here,” meaning he’d push her there.
If she went.
Going to the party would be a really stupid idea.
Not because he’d been a jerk. She’d already forgiven him. After all, he’d thought she was the incredibly incompetent Howard Slidell, who’d messed up Sawyer.
No. She shouldn’t go because she shouldn’t have anything to do with Sawyer’s relative.
She stepped around a man who was encouraging his son to try the wall. Trying things was good.
Maybe not this party though.
Even if there were no ethical issues involved, she would hesitate. It was too easy for her to fall into defining herself by a man. Especially this man. The sexy Dom detective could take her over without even trying.
But…she honestly did want to learn more about the BDSM stuff, and opportunities in this area would be few and far between.
What would happen if she went to the event? She could do a scene or two. After all, playing with a Dom at a party wasn’t like actually dating. Show up, do something together, leave the man where you found him.
Attending a BDSM event might be a bit like visiting a lending library of men. Borrow a guy for a limited time—a scene—and put him back for the next user.
But, Atticus would be available for other borrowers. Her gut gave a tiny clench. She’d have to watch him play with other women?
Yet, better she experience a little discomfort than get involved with him herself.
Okay then. She’d visit Jake and Kallie’s lending library of Doms and do some sampling. But she’d leave the Atticus book sitting on the shelf.