Chapter 3
Jordan Hackett
Ishook my head, reading Ash’s text again.
One good thing happened this weekend. I lowered my handicap.
“Ugh!” I tossed my phone onto the couch next to my desk and folded my arms over my chest.
This wasn’t gonna work. Both Mister Ash and Mister Rigger were being dummies.
We didn’t always have time to “wait for the right moment.” They’d had dinner together on Saturday and Sunday; Ash should’ve just leaned in and kissed the crap out of Nathan, and then everything would’ve been fine again.
“Dinner’s ready in ten, baby!” James called from downstairs.
“Be right there!” I hollered back.
I spun around in my chair and eyed all my crafts. Shelves upon shelves, boxes upon boxes, everything neatly organized. Maybe I could get crafty and send Ash and Nathan ransom notes. Only, instead of a ransom, I was spilling some truths. Like, you still love each other! Go kiss and make up!
Too bad we were long past Valentine’s Day. I could’ve sent them cards from each other.
I made magic in this room. I painted ducks, I made James pretty cards, I wrote him love notes, I created fridge magnets, I planned pranks—well, that was a new development—I mended clothes, I drew, and I built knickknacks. I could probably reunite two stubborn Sadists too.
I was even the new prop master in the Brat Squad, for chrissakes!
A ding from my laptop alerted me to a new message, so I spun around again and saw a message from Corey on the Mclean site.
Dude, are you seeing this?
Seeing what?
Before I could ask, a link popped up.
I clicked on it, and it led to a status update.
Noa had posted about his day, how he’d had cheesecake with Master Lucian at the Cheesecake Factory.
He wished everyone a Happy May Fourth with a Star Wars meme and ended the post with, “And maybe I shouldn’t blow my paycheck on fun stuff all the time, but whatever! ”
I snickered. So relatable. James had to earmark a sum for me that I could blow through every month—for both our sakes. Because we really, really loved to travel and see the world, and I’d shoot myself in the foot if I shopped till I dropped as often as the mood struck.
Was this what Corey meant?
I scrunched my nose and scrolled down to the comments, and that was when my eyebrows flew up and I couldn’t fucking believe what I was seeing. Who was that turd? Was it a joke? An inside joke I didn’t understand?
To no one’s surprise, you can’t fend for yourself without the help of not one but two Doms. Lol. Pathetic.
It wasn’t a joke. Kit was the first one who’d responded.
Who goes on someone’s post and writes something like that? This isn’t Facebook. Fuck off.
Corey was the next member who’d replied to the troll.
Is it a habit of yours to spout bullshit about people you don’t know? I wouldn’t brag about it. It’s embarrassing.
Lastly, Gael.
I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that you used to be obsessed with Noa’s Daddy.
Whoa.
I left my seat and threw myself onto the couch, where I grabbed my phone. Since Noa hadn’t replied to the jackass, I didn’t know if he’d seen it or if he was okay. So I texted him.
Are you okay? Corey showed me the comment section with the waste of space.
“Dinner, Jordan!”
“Coming!” I sat up and went back to my convo with Corey. He’d texted again.
Gael screencapped it. Apparently Master Lucian saw it and just had the comment removed, and the user’s been issued a warning. Text Gael if you haven’t seen the comment yet.
I replied.
I saw it. I’m glad it’s gone. What a fucking douchebag. Do you know if Noa’s okay? I texted him a few seconds ago.
I got up from the couch and started heading downstairs. I was usually the one who cooked around here, but James had a dozen or so dishes that he aced like some chef genius. His smoked turkey casserole, for instance. My mouth watered as the scents grew stronger.
Pocketing my phone in my jammie bottoms, I glanced at the pictures we had on the wall along the stairs, and it made me excited for this year’s vacation.
We were going back to Europe, this time Romania, Bulgaria, Albania, and Montenegro.
One week in each country. We had road trips, a river cruise, two guided tours, and several hikes lined up.
Weekend layovers in Paris and London too.
I couldn’t fucking wait.
But first, I sure wanted James and me to have a kinky dynamic established with my sexy Daddy and his husband.
Seriously, if Mister Rigger and I didn’t have chemistry, I was going to cry, because he was so insanely hot.
James and I had watched some tutorial videos on the Mclean forum of Nathan tying up both men and women, and he had this quiet, firm dominance about him—as if he was more solid than a mountain.
Plus, the way he used his long fingers to work the rope…
Oof.
I wandered into the kitchen where my own hubby waited, and I smiled. He’d showered. After work, when he got out of his utility clothes and took a shower…? He only bothered pulling on a pair of sweats, and his hair was all messy.
“Hey, hot stuff.” I rounded the table to give him a big kiss first.
“Hey, baby.” He smiled into the kiss.
“Sorry about before,” I added and took my seat across from him. “I was concentrating so hard.”
He chuckled and grabbed my plate. “You don’t have to apologize for that. I know how you get.”
Yeah, but still. I was eager to see him after work every day, but if I was smack-dab in the middle of a crafts project, I sometimes had to wait with my hellos.
Like today. I was finishing up Ash’s youngest daughter’s door sign, and I didn’t want to mess it up.
I’d dug for enough details to know that she loved all the standard girl colors, pink and purple—not pastel; they had to be darker—and she also loved pale yellow. So, yeah.
I’d even bought glitter!
“How are the signs coming along?” James filled my plate with food.
“Almost done—I only have Mikey left,” I announced.
Dylan’s and Hallie’s signs had been sort of boring to create because they were older and went for cool and stylish rather than fun and crafty.
So, Hallie’s sign was a faded purple with her name embossed in silver.
A light, cursive font. Dylan’s was even plainer.
Black wooden sign with his name in white, in a typewriter font.
I’d turned the L in his name into a golf club.
“I’m sure Ash will appreciate what you’re doing, sweetheart.”
I beamed. I hoped he would. I really did want to get to know their whole family. I mean, we were gonna be neighbors once Ash and Nathan figured out their crap. James and I should be the fun friends next door, right?
“Speaking of him, how was work?” I asked, picking up my fork. My stomach tightened with hunger at the sight of all the cheese and pasta and sauce and turkey. “Did he make you uncomfortable?” I waggled my eyebrows.
He laughed and shook his head. “To be fair, he’s been doing that since the day he and Theo hired me.”
True, true, true.
“He has a way about him,” he went on. “Just when I think he’s bordering on aloof and probably forgot about the whole thing, he does something to remind me that he’s not going anywhere.
Like today at lunch—we were at some diner in Fairfax, the whole crew—and he lands a hand high up on my thigh under the table.
It was over in three seconds, but it was so full of purpose and so close to my crotch that I almost choked on my food. It’s the most he’s touched me so far.”
I grinned. “That’s hot.” Ash was definitely taking his time with James, slowly driving him crazy—and telling him virtually nothing. I probably knew more about Ash’s intentions than James did.
I fantasized about the day I got to watch Ash destroy James almost as much as I dreamed about Ash being my Daddy. Almost.
It was equal parts liberating and frustrating, being so close to having our kinkiest dreams come true.
We needed this to work. We needed Ash and Nathan to be happy and find their way back to each other.
Because balance was key. So was personal harmony.
James and I were so protective of what we had—that was just ours—and we believed our playtime partner, or partners, needed to share that same joy in their life outside the kinky parameters.
“Have you decided about tomorrow, by the way?” James asked. “I’m not picking up Emmett until later in the evening. There’s time if you wanna go out to Mclean.”
Ugh, did we have to talk about that now? Where was the fire? Tomorrow was a world away.
Shoot. I shouldn’t have told him I didn’t have work tomorrow.
He sent me a wry little smile, even though I knew he had endless patience. “Need I remind you that joinin’ Mclean House was your idea after years of rejecting the notion of being part of a community?”
Wait just a damn minute. He hadn’t wanted to join a community either.
“No, you needn’t,” I muttered. “I know I’m being silly.” I forked up more food and shoved it into my mouth.
“I wouldn’t call you silly—for that reason—but I do believe you’re worryin’ for nothin’.”
Maybe. Possibly. The Brat Squad did seem to like me, and I sure liked them a lot.
Camden and I were equally obsessed with crafts and stuffs.
Corey and Noa were super funny and sharp.
Gael was sweet and also kind of calculating.
I wasn’t at all surprised he’d screencapped that section before, for instance.
He often told us to “save the evidence” when we discussed pranks and crap that Sadists said online.
And Kit, our president, was one part goofball and one part “let’s focus so we can get this done. ”
“I have an idea,” James said. “Tomorrow after work, Ash and I pick you up. We head out there for a quick visit—he can show us around—and then we go home again. And you let your brat buddies know you’ll be there. It’s short notice, so chances are most of them will be at work or have plans.”