Geoff said something and Chris turned his attention back to him. She'd been holding her breath again, she realized. It made her chuckle at herself. Taking a sip of her coffee, she picked up one of the paperback romances. It was an older historical, with the clench pose on the front. A woman whose heaving breasts were barely contained by her bodice was being held by a virile-looking male whose look said he planned to do away with that bodice and the rest of her clothing quite immediately.
She volunteered for a humane society that had a thrift shop with an extensive paperback book collection, so she was very familiar with those poses. She preferred them to the modern-day ones that would use a hint of a body behind a flower or a bit of lace. They were as romantic and sexy as a doorknob, whereas this . . . It didn't matter that it was overly dramatic. She could close her eyes and imagine being that heroine, her knees already giving way because she knew he was strong enough to hold her, that she could surrender everything to him . . .
She wasn't stupid. She knew that was fantasy, that no one could surrender everything to anyone full-time. She could and would take care of herself. Because of that, she knew her feelings for Chris and Geoff weren't rooted in how they'd appeared at the right moment, stopping Anthony, her stalker ex-boyfriend, from whatever terrible end he might have planned. It was everything else they'd done since, in her day-to-day life. Things that had won her trust. That trust would allow her to give them control when the moment called for it, when surrender was an option that could free her soul, without fear of abdicating her right to run her own life.
"It's funny. When I initially put a copy of Newsweek or the New Yorker over here, I could tell a lot of women felt like they had to pick those up and completely ignore the People magazine or the romance novels. But by only having those choices, pretty much all of them will page through them while waiting for their husbands or boyfriends. At least once or twice I'll see them smile, like you're doing now."
She opened her eyes, and her heart rate bumped up in an altogether pleasant way. She'd only met Logan Scott briefly, when she was in the hardware store last time, but Sam could completely understand why he was the one changing Madison's life. She'd even felt a vicarious thrill on Madison's behalf when the shop owner let Logan's name slip.
The hardware store owner was hitting a sexy and rugged forty. With broad shoulders and a strong-boned frame, the whole package was displayed well in jeans, work shoes and a chamois shirt that outlined his powerful upper body. But it was the energy around him, and the measuring look in his molasses-colored eyes, a darker brown than Chris's, which elevated her heart rate.
Maybe it was because Sam was getting more in touch with her submissive side that she recognized Logan as a Dom right off. One who'd completely embraced that identity and made it a vital part of who he was. This was very likely what Geoff would be when he grew up, so to speak. Since Geoff could overwhelm Sam now, she understood why Madison had looked a little overcome when talking about Logan.
She'd met some tops on her visits to private BDSM parties with Flo, men who wore their sexual Dominance like a hat they took off when they left the club or bedroom. That worked for them and their partners. However, she expected being a Master was like breathing for Logan Scott. Something he was and did without conscious thought. Geoff gave off those vibes as well.
"Hello," she said. "Sorry, I was just daydreaming."
"No need for a beautiful woman to apologize for that, especially if who she's daydreaming about will benefit from it." He winked. "The ladybug gloves are a good choice for you. You might consider a second pair. They're on sale individually, but if you buy two, I'll knock twenty percent off the second pair in addition to the sale price. I have an overstock."
"I liked the lavender ones with the butterflies. I'll get those as well."
He waved her off as she started to get up. "No rush. Just wanted to mention it to you and make sure you didn't have any other questions. Troy and I are here to help you if there's anything you need."
"Okay. Um . . ."
He'd started to ease back, a considerate shop owner, but stopped at her hesitation. His shrewd eyes studied her, then followed her gaze to Geoff and Chris and back. "Madison sometimes has me talk to her clients about their interests," he said carefully. "So I'm also available for non-hardware-related questions, if you have one you think I can answer."
Yeah, the man definitely had well-tuned radar. "I was wondering . . ."
If she'd read the signals wrong from both him and Madison, she was about to mortally embarrass herself, but she was on a roll lately on asserting herself in risky ways, so why should she stop now? "One of them is like you, without a doubt. The other one, I can't tell. I think the key to Chris is Geoff, but they're circling each other like wolves who are crossing paths for the first time. Yet they've known each other forever. It makes me worry that I'm going to . . ."
She paused, struggling with it. Logan sat down in the chair across from her. He didn't prompt her, didn't seem impatient. He was just waiting, listening with senses that she thought went far beyond his ears. It flustered her even as it gave her the courage to continue.
"Geoff says there's nothing I need to do, that I can't push. That they have to work it out, that Chris has to work it out. I sort of get that, but it's not my thing to sit back and wait to see if something is going to go the right way or crash and burn. If it crashes and burns, how do I know that my not doing anything didn't contribute to that? I love them, and I'm so afraid of hurting them, but I tell myself that's pointless, because the gate's wide-open now, the horses all out of the barn. I might as well just let them run, right? Or should I try to chase them down and get them going in the right direction?"
A smile had slowly grown on Logan's face as the words spilled out. Now she took a breath. "Talk about the gate being wide-open," she said lamely. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" He leaned forward, knees spread and wrists loosely resting on them. He had long, thick brown hair tied back off his shoulders. It reminded her of Adrian Paul's in the Highlander series. "Sometimes we answer questions just by saying them out loud," he said. "But it probably is going to crash and burn. Not just once, but quite a few times."
Gee, thanks. I feel loads better. He shook his head and touched her knee in reassurance. "Sometimes that's how you figure out what will work," he said. "You love them. It's the love that will keep you working toward it. While love can sometimes be about maintaining status quo, overall, love isn't a stagnant force. If it's real, it grows and changes with the people involved."
His look was thoughtful. "Geoff told you to let it be. Am I right?"
"Yes sir--I mean, yes." She turned scarlet. His expression and tone had shifted, steady and even in a way that she recognized all too well. It was merely a Southern courtesy to address someone as sir or ma'am, and he was probably about fifteen years older than her, but that wasn't what had prompted it.
Help, I've found out I'm a sub and I can't turn it off.
Logan moved on smoothly. "So if he's told you to let it be, and the two of them have a long history, trust your Master."
Hearing someone else call Geoff that gave her a delightful little flutter, but her tart response was out before she could bite it back.
"That's just what I'd expect another Master to say."
Logan's sexy smile would scatter any breathing woman's brain cells. "You may be right about that. But it doesn't mean I'm not right. Trust your instincts, not your fears. The trick is knowing which is which."
"Logan?" Troy approached, giving her a courteous nod. "These two guys have a question I think you're the better one to answer. It's about building . . . furniture."
Logan glanced at him, then over his shoulder at Geoff and Chris. Geoff looked Sam's way with a Doing okay? smile. The smile she sent back had extra wattage, not only answering the question but reacting to Logan and Geoff's expressions side by side. The Dom quality was as evident as a brand stamp, though the models were deliciously different.
&nb
sp; "All right," Logan told his employee. Then he looked at her. "All good here?"
"Yes," she said, though she was wondering what furniture Geoff and Chris were considering in that book. "Thank you," she said.
"Good luck." He touched her knee again. "Have fun with it. That's almost as important as anything else when you're getting started. Love has more room to figure things out when we don't take ourselves too seriously. Learning to let go is tough. For particularly stubborn subs, the only way to do that is to tie them up and teach them to let go. I might share that tidbit with these gentlemen, see what they can do with it."
At that outrageous statement, he winked and rose. When he left them, Troy's eyes danced. "It completely blows your concentration when they say things like that, doesn't it?"
She blew out an exaggerated breath in agreement and earned his chuckle, which left her grinning as he retreated to help other customers. It was fun to play--and commiserate--with another sub, another new experience for her. Okay. Worry less and have fun with it. Maybe she should tattoo that on her hands so she'd remember it.
She blanched as she saw Logan talking to Geoff and Chris and motioning to something on the wall. An old-fashioned buggy whip. While Geoff and Chris discussed whatever Logan had just told them, the store owner tossed her a look over his shoulder, full of mischief. She narrowed her gaze at him, even as her heart pounded a little faster and her hands got damp. Surely he hadn't suggested . . . but what if he had?
*
She bought her gloves. When Chris and Geoff came to make their purchase, they were empty-handed, but Chris took her arm, guiding her out the front door into the late-morning sunshine hitting the front sidewalk. Geoff was taking out his wallet and waiting for Logan to ring up whatever he'd been writing out on a piece of notepaper.
"So what are you buying?" she demanded.
"Something." Chris slid an arm around her waist, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her jeans.
"You're not going to tell me what it is."
"Nope." His eyes twinkled at her, though his mouth remained serious, as if part of his mind was still mulling over whatever he'd been thinking when he'd been staring at her so intently in the store. Pinching her lightly, he withdrew his hand and ambled along the sidewalk displays. He studied a flat of yard plants, but something in his face told her he wasn't even seeing them.
"Chris . . ."
He lifted his head, his brow arched. "Okay," she said. "I'm going to say it straight out. If any of this is making you uncomfortable, I don't want you to feel like you have to . . . like we can't go back . . ."
"Yeah, a lot of it's making me uncomfortable." He slid his hands in his back pockets like he had when studying the violet wands, only now he was studying the selection of wheelbarrows Logan had lined up on display out front. He stood that way a long moment. Anyone else she'd have prompted with more questions, but she knew Chris's cadence. He'd think it through before he spoke, and you had to give him a few extra seconds to do it. Not because he was slow, but because he believed in being honest and thorough. As a result, often his response would have weight and impact far beyond what was expected. This time was no exception.
"You know how many times I've thought about coming into your room at night, Sam?" he said at last. He kept his eyes on the wheelbarrows. "Getting into your bed and putting my hands on you. Wrapping my hands in your hair, tasting every inch of your skin. Burying my face between your legs until you came with those little bird cries, your body trembling . . ."
It was a good thing no one else was out sidewalk shopping, but she wasn't sure she would have noticed them if they were. She was frozen, staring at him.
"At first, it was every once in a while, harmless fantasy. Then you went on the first date you've had since Anthony. That sign that you were ready to start being with someone again flipped a switch. Ever since, the more time I've spent around you, the more I think about it."
He turned his brown eyes to her then, darker than usual in the shade of the striped store awning. "Now I think about it every night. Usually right before I tap out 'Itsy Bitsy Spider' on your wall. So no, I don't feel like I have to do anything. I don't want to go back."
"What stopped you from acting on it? When that switch flipped, I mean." Her skin felt stretched tight over her bones, the sunshine making her aware of every inch of it. From here forward, when he tapped that good-night ritual on her wall, she'd be thinking of the words he'd just spoken.
"Same reason it took you a while, and Geoff. Three isn't the usual thing, is it? We didn't say it to each other, though we were both thinking it. But for that to happen, you had to be on board before either of us. I didn't know that had happened, until you took us to Naughty Bits. Then, you know, it takes me a while to move forward, even with the green light. I think it through from all angles. But coming home and finding you and Geoff pretty much expedited that, big-time."
As he turned to contemplate the wheelbarrows again, she had to bite back another apology. Chris had something specific on his mind. She waited.
"Geoff has a dinner meeting with clients tonight," he said slowly. "We're going to do the picnic in the park. After that, we'll go home and he'll get his shower, head out for that. Then he wants me to take you to bed again. Which is good, because that's what I planned to do."
"Oh." Her mouth was dry. "You worked this out, the both of you?"
"Yep. But there are a couple of things you need to realize, too." He turned to face her. "Geoff said to make sure I was looking at you when I say this, so you understand we both mean it. He didn't need to tell me that, but he's a control freak, like you. On different sides of the fence."
A wry twist of his lips. She had to bite her own to keep from saying anything, which would only prove his point. Her heart thudded at his steady look.
"Rule number one. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You got it? You don't want to do something, that's not going to change a thing for either of us. But you do something you don't want to do just so you feel like we're happy, that won't make us happy. Geoff will be ticked, and I'll just be plain pissed. We're not mind readers, Sam. Don't let us hurt you, because neither of us can imagine anything worse in the whole world than living with the guilt of that. Got it?"
"Got it. I felt that way . . . when you walked in on me and Geoff. It was the worst feeling I've ever felt."
Her voice came out as a whisper, which tightened his jaw, made him step closer. She had to tilt her head to look up into his face. He wasn't touching her, but she was starting to tremble as if he was. He was saying these intimate, important things out in bright sunshine, on a public sidewalk, but none of that mattered. It was just them in the whole world.
"Okay," he said. "Rule number two. You do what we tell you to do. Unless rule one applies."
She'd have expected Geoff to say such a thing. The jolt of hearing it from Chris, seeing him say it because he felt it, meant it, was a shock to the system.
Chris handled what needed to be handled, not by issuing orders and commanding men, but by taking care of it himself, one-on-one, whether it was a force of nature or one of Esteban's customers. He was like Hercules or Atlas, whereas Geoff was Caesar or Captain America. The unique way each took control weakened her knees. It was a new revelation, a good one.
"Final point," he continued. "Being uncomfortable isn't a bad thing. We like it when you're this kind of uncomfortable. Where your heart gets to racing, and you breathe funny, and your eyes get a look in them like you can't really focus on anything but what we're telling you."
A woman had come out of the store and was browsing the bedding plants. Chris leaned in, spoke quietly. "It's making you wet, me talking to you like this, isn't it?"
When she gave him a look of helpless agreement, he put his lips on her cheek, his arm sliding around her waist to bend her like a reed against him as his voice became a husky whisper. "When you get aroused, your brain gets all scattered, but you don't fight it. I like that, because it says you
trust us."
She swiped a tongue over her lips and made a little noise as he followed the movement with his own mouth, taking his fill of her lips before he lifted his head and drew back, tucking his hands in his back pockets again. He didn't move back, though, and she was tempted to spread her fingers out like wings on his chest, feel the man beneath the cloth.
Instead, she kept her hands still, not trusting herself. "So . . . you said Geoff suggested you tell me this?"
"Yeah. He said you weren't going to relax until you had half an idea of my mind on it. Else you'd think I was being tugged along like a dog going into the vet's office."
She blinked. "I never . . . I just . . ."
"I know what you were worried about, because you worry about us, always. Me specifically, in ways you don't worry about Geoff." He slid his arm around her again. His gaze on her face, he spread out his fingers, taking a firm grip on her ass in front of the whole world. She didn't dare look over her shoulder at the other shoppers. There were three women browsing the sidewalk displays now, because she could hear their muted comfortable chatter.
"Chris."
He gave her an immovable look. "I appreciate you caring about me, but when it comes to this, you're going to stop worrying. And you're going to tell me you understand and agree, right now, or I'll turn this public display of affection into something even more blatant."
When she struggled with what she could say to that, his hand shifted as if he intended to slide all the way under her ass to cup her between her legs. She put her hands on his chest and pushed, her glare mixed with a half-exasperated smile.
"Okay, I get it. I get it." She repeated it more softly, then shook her head. "Big jerk."
This was a side of Chris she wasn't used to handling. Correction--he'd just made it clear he wasn't going to be handled.
"So do you think we can use a new wheelbarrow?" Letting her go with a light squeeze, he turned to look at a few models out on display. "Our old one is about rusted out."