Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Happy Saturday. Hand on the cart, Gin did a quick dance step down the aisle of the grocery store. This morning with Atticus had been…fun. Light-hearted all the way, starting with shower sex and finishing with cooking breakfast together before he took her back to her car.
And during the night, as if he’d known how shattered she’d felt, he’d loved her so gently and generously that he’d reduced her to tears a couple of times.
Tonight, she’d said she wanted to be alone. After an unhappy moment of consideration, he’d agreed.
She totally needed some time to process everything. How he’d treated her, how exposed she felt when he dug for answers—and the revelations he’d brought forth.
No wonder she’d been confused by her own behavior—submissive service and neurotic service together made for a challenge. She shook her head. It would take time to get it all straight, but she darned well would. Hey, she was a counselor.
Since he was giving her “me” time, Atticus said he’d see her on Sunday—and refusal was not an option.
She smiled. Refusing hadn’t even crossed her mind.
Humming a tune and pushing her cart, Gin rounded a corner in the grocery store and stopped in surprise.
Atticus stood near the bin of oranges.
Her hand on his chest, a tall, slender brunette stared up into his eyes. “So, what are you doing next weekend, Atticus?”
Gin’s jaw clamped shut. Don’t touch my man.
But he wasn’t. Not in any official terms. Not that there’d been any time to discuss it. Were they together together?
She was afraid to ask.
To Gin’s relief, Atticus said to the woman, “Sorry, babe. I have plans.” He moved sideways and noticed Gin. “Gin.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder and gave a sniff. Turning back, she stroked her palm down Atticus’s chest. “You give me a call if you get freed up, darling.” With a blatant swing of her hips, she picked up an orange and sauntered away.
His gaze didn’t follow her. Instead, Atticus walked over to Gin. “Are you getting something wonderful to cook for me tomorrow?”
Why didn’t he kiss her? “Of course,” she said in a strained voice. No hug. Nothing.
Had the woman tempted him? Maybe. They hadn’t agreed to being monogamous or even a relationship. And…her stomach sank. Doms didn’t always follow the same rules that they enforced on their submissives, right?
“Looks like everyone is shopping for the weekend,” he said. “I saw the Serenity crowd near the meats.”
“Oh.” With a smothered flinch, Gin resolved to avoid the meat section of the store, even if she needed hamburger and chicken.
She hadn’t seen Becca since the scene in the lodge’s parking lot.
After getting only a brief nod from Jake when they’d passed on the street, she’d avoided Kallie and Sunny and had refused their calls.
“Something I should know?” Atticus asked softly. She could swear his regard had actual weight.
“Of course not.” She turned away and hesitated. “Are you… I mean, are we—” She was acting like a teenager. “Would you like to come over tonight? I can cook. Make you a… Would you like steak?” She could pick out a couple of steaks, once the Serenity people were gone, and—
“Stop.” Mouth tight, he moved forward until she had to tilt her head back to see his face. “Take a deep breath.”
“What?”
“What, indeed?” he said gravely. “Gin, did you offer a meal because you love cooking for me or because you’re scared about losing what we have together?”
“I…I do love cooking for you.” But not tonight. She’d been looking forward to alone time, to doing girly, indulgent stuff and writing in her journal.
Why had she asked Atticus to come over?
For pity’s sake, she was an idiot. She closed her eyes, feeling the apprehensive place in her belly, the one that said he didn’t even like her, that he wouldn’t want her unless she filled all his needs.
And now she was going to burst into tears in the middle of a grocery store. She blinked hard; her breathing turned all wonky.
“Easy, li’l magnolia.” With firm hands, he pulled her close and wrapped her in determination and warmth. His breath was warm against her ear. “Tell me, baby.”
“I got scared,” she admitted into his flannel shirt. “That woman was awfully pretty, and you didn’t even touch me, and I thought maybe you didn’t want…me.”
He made an acknowledging noise, giving her a squeeze. “Got it.” He nuzzled her cheek. “I didn’t know whether a counselor would be comfortable with public displays of affection. After all, you work in the prison here.”
“Oh.” She sagged against him. Truly, she tended to be fairly reserved, but this was Atticus. “I like when you touch me. Even around other people.”
“So noted. As for other women, I’m not interested. You take up all my time; I like it that way.”
A ribbon of happiness swirled through her. “Me too.”
“Good.” He pulled back. “Little counselor, do you think you can remember how you felt here and recognize it next time?”
“Yes. Probably… You know, you’d be a very good shrink, Atticus,” she added.
His growl made her giggle. “Keep it up, baby, and we’ll try some avoidance therapy. A good paddling or—”
Blushing, she put her hand over his mouth. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t say a thing.”
Under her palm, his lips quirked. When she took her hand away, he said, “As long as I’m in therapy mode, your homework is to list ways to deal with the anxiety—without resorting to cooking me meals you don’t want to cook.”
A laugh escaped her. “You talked to Sawyer.”
“Yep. He mentioned your penchant for list-making exercises. His new counselor has had him continue the practice.” His smile increased. “He shared his last one—the list of what he wants to do when he’s released.” Atticus bent and kissed her tenderly. “Thank you for helping him heal, Gin.”
She couldn’t speak through the thickness in her throat.
“However, since you gave me homework as well, consider this revenge.” When he grinned, she remembered how she’d assigned him reading—and list making—to work through his height phobia.
“Have you been…?”
His short nod said he was finished with the subject. Instead, he stepped back and swatted her ass. “Now finish shopping. I’ll see you tomorrow the way we’d planned.”
“Agreed.”
Smiling, she continued through the store, checking off items. The extra was the package of double-stuffed Oreos, because she darned well deserved chocolate after having a meltdown in a grocery store.
Two seconds later, she reached the end of the aisle, turned, and ran over a boot. “Oops. Sorry…”
Her voice trailed off as she stared at Logan. His brother stood behind him.
Logan nodded briefly.
Jake said, “Gin.” They stepped out of her way.
Her head bowed as her heart shriveled two sizes, leaving her chest a mass of emptiness and pain. She wanted to protest that she’d been angry that day in the parking lot. She hadn’t meant she wouldn’t serve Atticus. But at Logan’s dismissive glance, the words wouldn’t come.
They hated her.
Before the betraying tears spilled over, she turned her head away and veered to the right. Then stopped.
No. They might not know she and Atticus had made up. And they were misjudging her; she had a right—a duty—to correct them.
Her big girl panties were going to give her a wedgie at this rate.
She turned and put her hands on her hips. “You’re wrong about me, Logan Hunt. You judged me unfairly.”
Logan turned. After regarding her for a long moment, he closed in on her.
She barely suppressed a squeak when he settled a hard hand on her shoulder. “Did I?” he asked, his voice flat.
She pulled in a shaky breath and tried to yank away.
“Easy, pet. Let’s get this out,” Logan said in a rough voice. “Jake, grab Atticus. I want to talk.”
“There’s a change,” Jake said. A second later, she heard him call, “Ware. Here.”
Footsteps heralded Atticus’s approach as she searched for composure. If he saw her upset, he’d get all riled up.
An arm came around her, yanking her from Logan’s hold. Atticus took her chin in a careful but unyielding grip and lifted her face. His eyes darkened. “What the hell, Hunt?” He pulled her behind his back as if readying for a fight. “What’d you say to her?”
Her attempt to shake his arm was as futile as moving a granite mountain. “No, Atticus. It was me. I did—”
“A tiny thing like you couldn’t do anything to give these two assholes grief.” His voice was uncompromising as he stared at the two Hunts.
Oh, heavens. Where was a testosterone drain when she needed one? “Logan saw our fight in the Serenity parking lot. After you left, I was talking to myself and said no man was worth serving. He heard me.”
Atticus’s eyes lit with amusement. “I always did like subbies with tempers.” But when he turned to the Hunts, his expression turned black.
Gin tugged on his arm to recall his attention. “They’re just unhappy with me on your part.”
“I don’t need big fucking brothers.”
“You’re together again?” Logan was studying her. “That mouthing off was because you were pissed-off?”
Atticus shot him a glare. “Like your redhead never says anything she doesn’t mean?”
“He’s got you there, bro.” Jake turned to Gin, then glanced at Atticus. “Permission?”
To her dismay, Atticus moved away.
Jake curled his fingers around her upper arms. His level gaze met hers.
“We messed up, Gin. Overreacted. Atticus kept hooking up with selfish submissives, so we goaded him to be with you. When it sounded as if you’d scraped him off because you didn’t want to serve, we figured we steered him wrong.
” A corner of his mouth kicked up ruefully. “And blamed you, of course.”
Oh. Of course they did. The bands of tension around her chest released. “I understand,” she said softly.
“Not sure I do,” Atticus grumbled.
She elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. “Oh, you get it. You were much nastier when you were defending your brother.”
“Shit,” he said under his breath. “Got me there, magnolia.” He glanced at the Hunts. “I appreciate the way you got my back”—he smirked—“against a half-pint.”
Logan winced, then took Jake’s place. The sincere regret in his face eased her heart. “I’m sorry, sugar, for putting those tears in your eyes.”
“Forgiven.” At his obvious relief, she could only smile. Atticus was lucky to have such loyal friends.
“I’ll tell Becca,” Logan said. “Be the first time I have gossip before she does.”
As the Hunts moved away, Gin glanced up at Atticus. He was watching her gravely.
“I think we’re done here.” Rising on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek.
Before she could step back, he put an arm behind her back, yanked her fully against him, and planted a long, long wet kiss on her.
When he finally released her, his hand was squeezing her ass, and she was dizzy and hot.
She might have to rethink her stance on those public displays. Sex education for children shouldn’t occur in grocery stores.
“Now you can go. And I’ll see you tomorrow.” Atticus’s gaze roamed over her face, and his lips quirked. With a final caress of her cheek, he headed down the aisle, leaving her staring after him.
Men—walking, talking proof that God is a sadist.
Distracted as all get out, she took twice as long as normal to finish shopping. As she went through checkout, hope was rising in her heart. Maybe Logan or Jake would talk to the women. Would say Gin wasn’t a total bitch.
Before she even made it out of the store, her cell rang. “Hello?”
“About time you answered your phone,” Becca said huffily. “How about a girls’ night out, and you can tell us everything.”
Gin gave a shimmy of delight. “How about a girls’ night in? Can you come to my place? I have two gallons of chocolate chip ice cream I got...before.”
“Oh. My. You’re certainly in sore need of help. I’ll gather the others—and bring hot fudge syrup.”
That man. On Thursday, Gin finished vacuuming the carpet in Atticus’s bedroom and rolled her eyes, laughing at herself. The correct word was that Dom.
For the past week, since her hot tub “interrogation,” Atticus was in her life, either spending the night at her place or taking her—and Trigger—home with him. He constantly asked what she was feeling, why she was doing something, prompting her to search her emotions.
The man was like a therapist on steroids.
“What are you up to, babe?” As if her wayward thoughts had summoned him, he appeared in the doorway. He studied her, the vacuum, the cleaned carpet, and shook his head. “No, let me rephrase, why are you cleaning my carpet?”
“Oh honestly. No, I’m not doing housework because I’m worried you’ll dump me.
” She set the vacuum away with a scowl. “Or for the joy of it either. It’s because this morning, I stepped on a piece of some unidentifiable stinky substance.
” She wrinkled her nose. “I do believe it came from the floor of the stables.”
He stared at her a second and burst out laughing.
Heavens, she loved that. Open, hearty laughter wasn’t heard nearly often enough in the prison—and Atticus had a deep, wonderful, infectious laugh.
“As the homeowner, I should inspect to make sure you did a thorough job.”
What? The floor was spotless. “Oh, really. And how exactly are you planning to do that?”
“Piece of cake.” He unbuttoned her shirt. “I’ll put you on your back on the carpet and apply some…weight. When we’re through, I’ll check your skin, and if you have any dents from dirt, I’ll spank you and let you vacuum it again.”
“Spank me. Oh, you best not even try—”
His mouth silenced her, and then he pulled her shirt up to tie it over her head, blindfolding her.
An hour later, she tried to tell him the “dent” on her bottom was from his teeth, but he spanked her anyway…using his fingers every few swats so effectively that she came twice before he finished with her “punishment.”