Ten minutes later, she packed up for the day and headed out the side door.
Ros’s office had a window view to the back parking lot. Though it was canopied by ancient live oaks, she could see her IT/Communications manager emerge, put her laptop bag in the Mustang and depart.
The CEO’s serious eyes filled with an approving warmth. She hoped for the best for their friend who had struggled with loneliness for too long. Ros’s glance went to the picture on her desk of herself and Lawrence. It was from a barbecue and pool party they’d attended at Dale and Athena’s. Lawrence was in the water, Ros sitting on the pool edge, his capable hand wrappedaround her calf as she rested hers on his shoulder, the two of them oblivious to everyone else.
She’d learned later that several people had captured the image on their phones, but no surprise, Skye had taken the best shot. This one.
She and Lawrence hadn’t done the marriage thing, because so far it wasn’t something that called to Ros. To her, the Mistress and submissive bond held all of that and more. That picture reflected everything a wedding picture was supposed to do. It said what lay between them was forever.
People were different. Abby and Neil had chosen the traditional marriage path, but with Abby’s schizophrenia and Neil being an active SEAL, they had so much non-traditional in their lives, so much unpredictability, Ros understood the desire to inject that solid bond into the life they were now sharing.
Vera, Cyn and Abby saw what she was seeing. Skye had started down a road with Tiger that might move from a moment to a journey. What that would look like would be up to them.
While Ros was glad Skye was showing signs of being willing to take that ride with him, the worries Skye had were sound ones. Tiger had experienced major upheaval. How he would adapt to that would determine if he was ready to enter into a healthy, lasting relationship.
Those were concerns Skye and Tiger would manage. Of greater import to Ros and the rest of the team were his family ties.
Because they did care deeply about Tiger, Ros had tapped friends in law enforcement for more information when the attack on his garage happened. The Fallen Angels were bad news. Not the kind of group a man got to leave. Particularly if he was born into it, and his brother was the current President.
Tiger seemed to have managed the distancing—until his sister-in-law was killed in his parking lot. There was no tellingwhat else that world might inflict on Tiger. Or how that could impact Skye.
While that worried Ros, in fairness, when she and Lawrence had met, a gang had been trying to killher. And it had all worked out.
Rosalinda indulged herself in a light trail of fingertips along Lawrence’s shoulder in the picture. For the right man, the right submissive, any risk was worth it.
He worked as a coach at the local community center. She might just drop in on him at lunch time.
Sometimes even a few hours without him was too long.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Skye paused at the garage bay entrance, the undamaged one furthest from the destroyed front office. It was a good thing she’d come well ahead of Maryshka’s planned arrival, because if her boss knew she’d seen him like this, the poor girl might be buried in that debris pile beside the shop.
Tiger was singing. Off tune, but what he lacked in skill was balanced by volume. The lyrics to The Contours, “Do You Love Me,” echoed off the walls and bounced out into the parking area.
“Noooow that I can dance…”
He was mopping the bay floor as he rocked forward and back, did a two-step, then a box step. He used the mop as dance partner, microphone and anchor point. It was a delightful surprise, finding Tiger wasn’t afraid to dance.
Watch me now…
Work it, work it out baby…
He wasn’t sunk into a broody miasma in his office, closeted with his gun and cigarettes. The business license had been put back on the wall, near a current year calendar that featured antique cars and 1940s style pinup models.
Maybe the art event had helped kickstart this renewed interest in the condition of his garage and its re-opening.
He had a natural rhythm, intriguing her with the rocking movement, the turn and stretch of his upper body, the flex of his backside under denim, the shift of thighs and footwork.
She’d fallen into the habit of exercising her sexual desires only at the club. Work kept her busy. That, coupled to her heretofore lack of interest in cultivating a romantic relationship, had made exploring her desires in the outside world unnecessary.
But there was necessary, and there was indulgence. She had no problem with indulgence, if the opportunity presented itself and offered something worth her attention.
Tiger was checking all those boxes in bold ink.
She’d noted his balance issues at Athena’s. He’d had some troubles with poses he was supposed to do for Evan, but the artist had smoothly guided him into more stable modifications before Skye felt the need to step in.
When Tiger wasn’t self-conscious about it, that issue improved, no surprise. If he had a misstep or two during his dancing, he made the course correction with barely a falter.