Chapter 2 #2
“Van is a good cop. There was a problem this past summer with one of the deputies, but it was investigated, and the person was taken into custody. I don’t think they’d do that if the place was corrupt.
And he’s recently hired a new guy, who seems good too,” I insisted.
Although I didn’t know Dillon, his newest deputy, as well as Van, I had a good feeling about him.
She pursed her lips in a way that suggested she pitied me. If we were sitting closer, she probably would have patted my head in that condescending manner adults use on small children. “Now tell me, is the pub one of those BDSM clubs?”
I choked on my tea and spewed it across the table.
“What? Oh my God…” I wiped my hand across my mouth.
“Did you say BDSM? There isn’t a… a… place like that here,” I sputtered as I mopped up my tea with a quilted place mat my mother had made for me a few years ago.
I hated the things, but they were useful in situations like this. “Do you even know what BDSM is?”
I regretted the question as soon as it flew out of my mouth.
“Yes, of course I do. How old do you think I am? Do you think I wore a chastity belt when I was young?” She shook her head.
“I lived through the sexual revolution. And I know very well BDSM doesn’t stand for Boobies, Ding-dongs, Sex, and Marriage.
” Grandmother lifted one eyebrow and eyed me.
“Although, in your case, it’d be more like Berries, Ding-Dongs, Sex, and Marriage. ”
“That is definitely not what it means.”
“Well, I know that. I said as much, didn’t I? But if you want me to talk about ball-gags and whips with you, I can.” She lifted her head to a haughty angle and took a dainty sip of her tea. “Mafia types are often connected with sex rings. They might hide it in plain sight as a kink club. ”
“On TV, but not here. This is Willow Lake.” I groaned. “How is this my life?”
“So… is it? I could totally see you as a power bottom, but I wouldn’t be shocked if you liked to be tied up and spanked.”
Oh my fucking God. “Please, for the love of everything holy, quit talking.”
“You have your eye on the big guy, don’t you? Is he your dom?”
I froze, but I was half tempted to throw myself through the window to escape this conversation. The long drop from my second-floor window to the sidewalk didn’t scare me as much as this conversation.
“I do not have a dom.” My voice squeaked.
“What’s his name again? Levi, right?” She cast her gaze over me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?—”
“You talk about him all the time,” she said, cutting me off.
Yes. Well…
“He’s a good-looking man,” she continued.
“Wait, how do you know that?”
“I hacked into your security cameras,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, it wasn’t much of a hack. You left your phone open and unattended at your mother’s house a couple of years ago.”
“What? When?”
“We were all there for Christmas. It was the first year your aunt refused to make the broccoli salad your mother loves so much. ”
I remembered. My mother had tried making it with a store-bought dressing and it hadn’t been the same. Thankfully, Aunty Gina had agreed to make it again the next year. It was a staple of our holiday menu.
“You hacked my security system?”
She shrugged. “It was easy enough to add myself as a secondary administrator to your app and gain access.”
“You spy on me?” I gaped. And my mother thought my grandmother had worked as a secretary. There was no way.
“Don’t look so shocked.” She waved away my question. “I see the way you two flirt. Have you done the deed yet?”
“Done the…” I repeated, feeling a little faint.
“I figure you haven’t yet, based on the way you two dance around one another like peacocks. All fluttering wings and rattling tail feathers.”
“Feathers?”
“I hope he takes his time and gets you nice and ready. A big man like that is bound to be big everywhere. That much of a package requires preparation. The bulge in those pants he likes to wear…” She put her hands out in front of her, about a foot apart, and watched me as she spread her hands further apart.
“Stop! Stop talking about Levi and his…” I gestured to my crotch.
I froze. Oh God. I’d just pointed to my groin in front of my grandmother.
Jesus. I scrubbed my hands over my cheeks.
My face must have been a thousand degrees.
Any minute now, heat blisters would pop up.
Then I’d have to go to the doctor to get cream, and he’d ask how it’d happened, and what on earth would I say?
Saying “My grandmother almost made me self-combust” would for sure land me in a research trial where other Nana-like people would torment me until I literally went up in flames. All in the name of science.
“Don’t be such a prude.” Nana shook her head like she thought I was being childish.
“The Willow Lake Pub is not like that,” I argued, trying to steer the conversation back to slightly safer topics. “And Levi and I are just friends.” As much as I wished otherwise.
My grandmother pressed her lips in a flat line and turned toward the window again. “Well, you said something isn’t right, and if not that, then what’s going on?”
“It’s not that,” I reiterated.
What else it could be, I didn’t know.