Charli kept her back to Grant, loading the few items she’d bought at the market into a cabinet and the refrigerator and trying to regain her composure. When Grant had looked at her, she’d had the uncanny sense that he was seeing to the root of her, seeing every ugly fear and vulnerability, every hurt and trauma. She didn’t like it. At all.
She was too on edge after the disaster of a day to deal with someone like him. One errant word or look and she’d spill her guts on the floor like some damned therapy session. Oh, poor me. Not only did I not get the job I’ve been dreaming of all my life, but oh, yeah, people find it hard to even watch me on television. Talk about humiliating. Why not just put her in a prom dress and dump some pig’s blood on her?
“Right, the rules,” Grant said in that baritone that seemed to vibrate through her rib cage. “Pretty simple. You give me your schedule, where you’re going to be. If you deviate from that, you call me and let me know ahead of time. You send me a text message letting me know when you arrive at work and when you’re leaving. I’m putting a GPS tracking device on your rental car as a backup in case I can’t get in touch with you and you need help.”
She shuddered, flashbacks of her teen years rolling through her mind—the constant checking in and explaining herself to her dad and brothers. “Don’t you think that’s a little overboard?”
He frowned. “Hopefully, it is. I hope that none of this is necessary. But I’m not willing to take a chance.”
She sighed. “Right.”
“As for when you’re here, feel free to explore the grounds, but stay on this side of the property. That long fence along the eastern edge divides the winery from the resort. Members only on the other side.”
She glanced back at him, eyebrow lifted. “Seriously?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, it’s not like I’m here for a vacation. I just didn’t realize it was exclusive with a capital E.” She grabbed a bag of chips and opened them, her lack of dinner finally hitting her. “You’re not housing the mob over there or something, are you?”
He pushed off the counter to rise to his full height and smiled. “No, nothing so sinister.”
She eyed him, sensing he wasn’t telling her everything, but his smile didn’t falter. She held out the bag of chips. “Want some?”
Instead of taking a chip from the bag, he plucked the one from between her fingertips and popped it in his mouth. “The resort’s room service is available on this side, too—twenty-four-seven. There’s a menu in the desk drawer. Dial three on the phone and you can get anything delivered to your door, no charge.”
“Oh, that’s really generous, but I think I’m covered.”
“A woman can’t live by cheap wine and ham sandwiches alone. I’ll make sure a bottle of wine and tonight’s roast chicken make it over here within the half hour.” He snagged his keys off the counter, spinning the loop around his finger and sauntered toward the side door, giving her an unimpeded view of broad shoulders and that lovely, jean-covered backside. “Give me a call if you need anything else or have any questions.”
She smirked. “What? You’re not sticking around to make sure I get tucked into bed all right?”
He halted his step and she had the urge to put her hands over her face. She’d meant the question as a joke, but once the words were out of her mouth, she’d realized how they’d sounded. Like a lame attempt at flirting.
And maybe it had been exactly that.
Maybe she wanted him to stay and help her forget her awful day.
But he kept his back to her and turned his head to the side, revealing only his profile. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Charli.”
“Right,” she said softly, then added: “I was only kidding.”
“Good night, freckles.”
She sank back against the counter. Good was about the last thing tonight could be called.
The wine better make it over here quickly.
SIX
The night was filled with a harmony of frogs and crickets as Grant headed back to his house after checking on things at The Ranch. He had interviewed a potential trainee tonight—one who was having trouble letting go of control in her scenes with other doms. She’d been pretty and open to the type of play he enjoyed. She’d read through his contract and didn’t have any major sticking points. But once he’d started talking to her, he figured out one thing rather quickly—he had no desire to tie her up and beat her. And that was a damn shame.
So instead, he’d thanked her for her time and had gone back to work. He’d ended up spending half an hour mediating a tiff between two longtime members over who had reserved what playroom when, then had worked the floor for the rest of the night. But instead of all that business clearing his mind, walking the play spaces had only inspired images of his new “neighbor” and how she would look naked and restrained on all that equipment—how she’d feel writhing beneath his hands and mouth.
In the end, he’d left with a hard-on and headache. Not exactly the kind of night he’d been craving.
He took a swig from the bottle of water he’d grabbed on his way out and made the last turn in the path toward his place. The glow of his porch light burned in the distance. Almost home. But snapping twigs and a muffled curse somewhere off to the left had him slowing his steps. He turned, squinting through the inky darkness and cluster of trees. “Hello?”
More unintelligible sounds, then a clear “goddammit.”