Tate (Mountain Men 3)

She goes on. "They hated all the rules they had. I hated all my freedom. They hated having to answer to all of you. I hated having to answer to no one." She smiles a little sadly. I look at her briefly, and then my eyes go back to the road, because I'm suddenly very aware that she's being sincere. Maybe that's why she's pushed me. Maybe that's why she's so sassy.

"So yes." Her voice is deep and sultry again, sexy as fuck. "I crave a firm hand. Though I do wonder what a man like that would do to a woman like me."

My mind is teeming with the possibilities of how a man with a firm hand would deal with a woman like her. I could think of a few things.

Some women prefer to be equals. Others prefer an open relationship. Some like old-fashioned relationships, and maybe some like to be with a dominant male.

"We’re very close," she says briskly, pointing outside her window, and at first, I think she’s talking about me and her. Then she pulls out her phone and scrolls through a message.

Suddenly she gasps and taps her screen so quickly I think she's going to break it.

“Everything okay?”

She quickly breathes out. “Aye, of course it is. Just saw something surprising is all. Got a text from a friend who found out some great news.”

Lying again.

She quickly closes the messaging app and pulls up the directions again.

“You’re going to drive to the end of this road."

We've come now into Inverness Centre, and our little game is over.

But I haven't forgotten it.

"Thanks again for taking me," she says briskly. "I'll pay you for your troubles."

I can't believe she just said such a stupid thing. I just grunt back at her. Fucking pay me? It's like one minute she's the real her, and the next she's back at playacting at whoever she was.

“Are you literally insane?” I ask her, angered that she’d be like this, that she’d flip the switch so quickly.

“What?” she asks, clearly affronted.

“Pay me? Like I’m some goddamn ride for hire?”

She flushes pink, and stares at me. I don't know if she's going to slap me or cry. "I just don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you!"

I've had enough of this. I've had enough of her mood swings and temperamental behavior. Without thinking, I snap.

"Babe, if there's anybody taking advantage of anyone it's going to be me taking advantage of you." I get out of the car and slam the door.

She's obviously angry as I come to her side of the car, and I don't blame her. I was kind of a douchebag there. In any event, I reach my arm out for her to take and she smacks me away. "I'm totally fine on my own. Don't touch me."

"You're not walking in there without holding my arm.” She’ll fall again.

"I told you I don't want you to touch me, and I meant it. You don't have to be such a jerk."

"Not two minutes ago we were talking about me punishing people. You don't seem to take that possibility seriously, do you?"

"Why do you say that?"

Like she needs me to spell it out.

My fucking pleasure.

I lean over and whisper in her ear, “Because you’re getting really close to finding out exactly what being punished is like. Now take my arm before I bend you over my knee, right here, right now, where anyone and their bloody uncle could see."

“Are you literally the most overbearing man I’ve ever met?”

“Don’t know,” I mutter when she finally fucking grabs my arm. “I know there’s no question you’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.”

“Me?” she sputters. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

I hold her gaze and say coolly, “And neither, sweetheart, have you.”

“Tate, honest to God.”

I blow out a breath and roll my eyes. “Where to?”

She points in the general direction of the buildings in front of us.

“It's the gray one on the left. Third floor, apparently." She rolls her eyes, takes my arm, and I help her along.

I came along because she needed someone to take her. It wasn't safe for her to come alone, I know that now.

But if I'm honest, it's also because I like her. I've liked her and been interested in her even before she met her ex, Fergus the douche.

I got involved in that one. I didn't mean to, but I fucking did. He was running his mouth about her at a club that we go to. And I knocked his fucking teeth out. No regrets.

Not sure she knows about that.

If I'm honest, I'm also here because I know that she works at the bookstore, and I might be able to get some answers. I need to know who the bloody author of these books is.

We finally find her doctor’s office, tucked away on the third floor of a tiny office park. I wait in the waiting room, as she gets her scans and a consultation.