Chapter 8 Good Lord, He Got a Horse
Good Lord, He Got a Horse
Renée
The heat coming off my laptop is no match for the little fan built into it.
Even so, I’ve been grading assignments all morning, so I take the little inferno as my sign for a break.
I dislike online summer classes—I feel disconnected from my students, and there’s no way they’re learning as much as they could if we were in person.
From my seat on the couch, I take off my reading glasses and rub the corners of my eyes before fixing my gaze outside. I stand for a closer look through the window, only to find a large trailer unloading a horse onto Jonah’s property.
Good Lord, he got a horse.
I shake my head. Caring for a horse is the last thing I think Jonah Johanssen could handle. It’s only been two years since he was my student, so I can’t imagine he’s changed all that much. Responsible is not a word I would use to describe him.
Infuriating, yes. That is partly my fault, though.
Every semester a new group of students sits before me, and my hopes are high.
I should have learned by now that most students are not there for their love of biology—they’re there for the credit, and I am but a stepping stone on the way to their future.
He never took my class seriously; he never showed interest in the material. He was there to interrupt me and flash that megawatt smile.
Distracted, he was also. I don’t know how many times I looked up from my presentation to find him texting, or whispering to the person next to him, or flirting with girls the second class was over.
My phone buzzes on the ottoman. My eyebrows raise when I see the name of the man who stood me up at Strip Tease. The man I was supposed to dominate and degrade for cheating on his fake wife.
Matt: Please give me another chance, Mistress. I’ll do anything. I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again.
It’s the tenth time he’s messaged me asking for forgiveness or providing an excuse for his absence.
After his first reply, I simply told him I would punish him, but I never gave him a definite answer about whether I would ever forgive him.
I enjoy holding this kind of power over him.
Truthfully, I don’t know if I will see him again.
The first time we were together, he showed up twenty minutes late, but he clearly enjoyed my punishment too much because then he didn’t show up at all.
I have exactly one night a month to free myself, wither a submissive into a boneless mess, and get my rocks off in the process—I’m not wasting it on no-shows, and Matt is learning that.
The urge to respond is tempting, though. Right as I’m about to type my first letter, I realize it’s quiet in the house—too quiet. Amber’s working at the country club, but where are the girls?
“Loretta? Delta?” I call, but hear nothing in response.
I bust through the back door to scan our backyard, but they’re not out here either.
A cold sweat breaks over my skin. I run toward the side of the house, yelling for the girls, my voice cracking.
From the corner of my eye, I catch two little redheads over at Jonah’s petting the new horse.
I curse under my breath and storm towards them.
There’s two other men standing nearby, and my hackles rise even higher.
My children’s safety is my number one priority, and even though I’ve spotted them and know where they are, the panic doesn’t lessen.
They are still standing next to men I don’t know.
When I’m close enough, I grab my oldest daughter’s hand. “Delta,” I bark, my voice harsh, and I hope no one can sense my raging fear. “You do not leave our yard without my permission. You know that.”
“But Jonah got a horse, and her name is Ginger—”
“I don’t care if Jonah got a Ferris wheel. You don’t leave the yard without asking.”
Hand wrapped around Lo’s, I start back to our house, but Jonah stops me.
“It’s okay, Professor Wi—I mean, Renée.”
I whip around and bore lasers into him. “It is not okay, Mr. Johanssen. It is not okay for children to go on the property of a stranger.”
Delta tugs on me. “But we—”
“I don’t care that we’ve met him already. There are other people here I don’t know, and...”
The other young man standing next to Jonah steps over, his expression curious and knowing. “Hi, Professor Wilde.” He stares at me as if we know...
“Oh my goodness.” I breathe, and an ease settles over me. “Dane Johanssen, what are—“ Reality cuts through the fog of my panic like a lighthouse when I remember I had two Johanssen brothers in my biology classes.
Dane was a perfect student, a dream for someone like me.
In his senior year, he transferred to Keystone State University to concentrate in veterinary sciences.
Since biology was his major, I had him in five different courses through his master’s and doctorate years.
He came to class with a mission to learn everything.
Hand in the air more often than not, his curiosity had no limits.
He sought me after class during office hours to discuss his assignments.
I set him up with an internship, for Christ’s sake.
My grip loosens on the little hands in mine, and I shake my head. “I can’t believe I forgot you’re related to Jonah.”
I really can believe it though, because Jonah and Dane are nothing alike, apart from their very obvious familial features.
I expected another star student when I found out Jonah was related to Dane, but I was wrong.
My hopes fell dramatically when I realized Jonah was not, in fact, taking my classes to study the magic that is natural science.
Dane leans in for a hug and, though surprised, I release my daughters’ hands and accept. “It’s good to see you again,” he says and steps back. He smells of dog hair and barn, but there’s a whisper of body wash under it all. “You live next door?” he asks.
I shrug. “Looks like it.”
Dane hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “This is our dad, Neal.”
The older man steps forward to shake my hand. It’s firm, but gentle, and his little smile tucks a dimple under his salt and pepper beard. God, do these three look alike. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “Sorry it was under duress.”
“Okay, what the heck,” Jonah harrumphs. He settles his palms on his narrow hips. “They get hugs and a handshake and I don’t?”
“We gave you cookies,” I say flatly.
“Did you like them?” Delta asks.
His eyes become saucers. “Did I like them? Do sheep wear sweaters?”
To my horror, both of the girls giggle, Lo’s volume barely registering, and I find myself disarmed at his answer. His—dare I say it—cute answer?
I dare not.
“No,” Delta laughs. “They don’t wear sweaters. They have wool.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” He gestures wildly. “They wear wool sweaters.”
Delta’s about to respond, but hesitates, and hauls me down to her level to whisper in my ear, “Can we make him more cookies?”
My heart cinches at her request because I want to give this to her, the experience of welcoming new people into a community, but it’s Jonah we’re talking about. I’m trying to wipe the man away from my mind, but the damn wiper blades are frozen to the windshield.
I will not do another relationship again—not one with feelings at least. I cannot afford to lose myself and safety.
And I’m certainly not about to start something sexual with him.
I don’t allow myself feeling for the submissives I fuck, and I make sure they don’t have them for me.
Why would I risk adding a sexual component with my new neighbor?
That’s a recipe for disaster if either of us caught feelings.
I don’t have an answer for my daughter because I don’t have an answer for myself. So I simply whisper back, “We’ll talk about it.”
Before I’m even standing all the way up, Jonah hands over the horse reins to his dad, then crowds me. His face has lost all its levity, and the only time I’ve ever seen it look so serious was when he was between my—no. I’m not going there.
“I promise this won’t happen again,” he says, his voice a little lower, a little softer. “With the girls, that is.”
“You can’t exactly prevent them from coming over.”
“No,” he says, and pulls at the back of his neck. “But, I’ll send them back. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
A flicker of warmth ignites in my chest, but I keep my expression neutral.
“Girls, why don’t you ask Dane over there what horses like to do for fun?” I ask, because I need them to clear out for a second so I can address Jonah.
They scamper five feet away, on the other side of the mare, before I nod to him swiftly. “I would appreciate that.”
His serious expression evaporates when the moment stretches, and a deep smile forms on his face. “You know... you could give me your number.”
“Um, no.”
“Why not? What if the girls are over here playing with the ducks and I want to warn you? Or what if you forgot to close your garage door and need me to run over and close it while you’re out?”
He makes infuriatingly good points. I really don’t want to give him my number because that is a dangerous hill to fall down. The temptation to text him or read his would be too great, too toe-curling.
Yet, for some unspeakable reason, I find myself nodding. “Fine.”
He pulls out his phone and hands it to me. He bites his full bottom lip like he’s suppressing a grin, but it’s not working. Even when he tries to hide it, his untamable sunshine shoots out.
I unceremoniously enter my information in the most transactional way possible and hand it back to him. “There.”
“I’ll text you later.”
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Is it regarding the safety of my daughters or home?”
He shrugs. “Could be.”
“Those are the only two topics you may contact me about.”
“What if I have a biology-related question?”
“You never had them when you were in my class, so why would you have them now?”