“So, I guessed right. You’re a member?”
“Not officially. They opened the place a few years after I left. I’ve attended as a guest numerous times since then, whenever I’ve made the trip back, but never joined. I planned to discuss it with Caden this week. We’re getting together at the diner for dinner on Thursday. Care to join us?”
He huffed a rueful laugh. “That was easy enough. Thank you, yes. And to answer your previous question, I’ve been a player since my twenties, married my third sub and we were members of a club in Denver for ten years.”
Kurt frowned, glanced at his bare ring finger and lift
ed an inquiring brow. “Divorced?”
“Widowed,” he returned curtly. “Two years now. I just turned forty-two, she died of ovarian cancer. No kids.” He shrugged. “I figured I’d save you from either asking or speculating. I also figure you have an inkling of how difficult it’s been, given your own losses.”
“I’m sorry, and yes, I do. A spouse, though, is a different, more intimate relationship than a sister or parent. Especially, I imagine, when you are lucky enough to enjoy a Dom/sub lifestyle together.” Unbidden, Leslie’s face popped into his head, her features etched with emotional pain, and he wondered if she had lost someone, or had anyone else to fill the void. Maybe not, since she had chosen to ease her pain and loneliness with a one-night stand with him. Since it would be a waste of time mulling over questions about last night, he shoved aside those thoughts. She’d intrigued him, had drawn on his protective instincts as much as his dominant cravings more than anyone else, but the odds of seeing her again were minimal, at best.
“No experience in commitment yourself?” Mitchell inquired.
“Not yet, and at forty, it’s not likely to happen. Although, the Dunbars’ marriages just last year came unexpectedly, so anything’s possible.” Rising, they rinsed their dishes and Kurt walked him out, saying, “I’ll meet you at the diner, say six-thirty. Does that work for you?”
“It does, thanks.” Mitchell jerked his head toward the house as he opened the truck door. “Good luck with your old man.”
“I’m going to need it.”
How could I have been so stupid? Leslie lost count of how many times she asked herself that question by the time she sat down to dinner Saturday evening. Due to her hangover, food hadn’t appealed to her all day until now. If she could just quit rehashing her idiocy of the night before, she would enjoy the plate of shrimp linguini sitting before her.
With a sigh, she twirled the pasta on her fork and admitted for the hundredth time she should never had let her melancholy mood get the better of her, for all the good that did. As if relocating from Reno, the only place she’d ever lived, to Billings, Montana hadn’t been enough to adjust to three and a half years ago, giving up all contact with her sister and friends had turned out to be an even bigger sacrifice than she’d imagined. Her sister’s tear-filled, devastated voice when Leslie broke down and explained how a threat from the defendant’s rich father following her damning testimony jeopardized her safety would be forever etched in her mind. Despite the eight-year gap in their ages and the fact Roslyn lived in Canada and she didn’t get to see her much, she missed talking to her and her sons desperately.
Even though they’d only allowed her to tell her immediate family goodbye, there was no doubt her friends and coworkers had read about the murder and the eyewitness testimony against the eighteen- and nineteen-year-old sons of one of Reno’s wealthiest, well-known families that had put the young men behind bars. The cops and prosecutors had tried to get a judge to allow her to tape her testimony, but money and influence spoke louder than their arguments. Her name was kept out of the papers, but two and two was still easy to add up and she didn’t doubt her friends had connected her sudden disappearance with the recent prominent court case.
Leslie took a bite of the buttery pasta, casting a furtive glance toward the time displayed on her cell phone sitting next to her plate. There was still plenty of time to eat, dress and make the thirty-minute drive to the secluded club situated between Billings and the small town of Willow Springs. Her one-night stand with a stranger had scratched just the surface of the lonely itch that still plagued her with despondency today. His focused attention that had driven her to orgasm several times had only whetted her appetite for more and reminded her of all she was missing out on by staying away from The Barn.
Recalling the look in Kurt’s black eyes as he’d gazed at her, his heavy body thrusting inside her with deep, womb-touching plunges while whispering commands in her ear she was helpless to resist brought on a familiar surge of heat neither her hand nor vibrator were enough to defuse. Between his chivalry in coming to her aid, insistence on seeing her safely home and sexual, take charge control, he’d given her all she’d ached for. Too bad waking up to face another day alone brought back the cold reality of her current life – a life that held no future or allowed for anything more than those come-and-go encounters with both men and friends.
No, she thought, forcing herself to take another bite, she wasn’t ready to return to The Barn tonight, not until she was convinced she could do so without resenting the people she’d met and liked so well. It wasn’t their fault she would never have what they were lucky enough to find. Following the second week of her absence at the club, Sydney’s call of concern had given Leslie a much-needed boost of pleasure. When Nan phoned a few days later and filled her in on her successful trip back to New Orleans to testify against the man who had kidnapped and abused her, the temptation to accept her friend’s invitation to a girls’ night out celebration had come close to crumbling Leslie’s resolve to keep her distance for a while. Considering the way she’d held herself back from getting too close to anyone, their overtures meant a lot and offered a comfort they wouldn’t understand.
Leslie resigned herself to spending the evening working on lesson plans for her second graders instead of indulging in another night of hot, sweaty, mindless sex. Someday she would get herself under control again and accept her fate for doing the right thing, at least enough to play without revealing her jealousy or despair over everything she’d lost.
Chapter 3
Kurt drove into the small town of Willow Springs Thursday evening looking forward to reconnecting with his friends. Spending the last few evenings catching up on the business side of ranching, the days getting back into the groove of spending hours in the saddle instead of behind a desk and having pissing contests with his father, left little time for socializing. Thinking of Leland brought a frown to his face as he turned toward the town square. He could handle his cantankerous side, God knows he’d had enough experience. It was the minute glimpses of longing in his eyes Kurt had caught a few times that had thrown him for a loop. The quick way Leland would turn aside drew Kurt’s curiosity, but then he’d whip toward him again with some sarcastic snipe, the softening on his face gone.
“Stubborn son-of-a-bitch,” he grumbled as he parked in front of Dale’s Diner on the corner of Main. The picturesque fountain in the center of the square bubbled with a flow of water that kids loved to play in. The one-hundred-year-old buildings that still housed the city offices, sheriff’s precinct and library were a far cry from the modern high-rises of downtown Houston where he’d worked. Damn, he thought on a deep inhale of fresh air, it was good to get back to his roots, and know he was home to stay this time. Regardless of his tenuous relationship with his father, he vowed to make it work this time around.
“Is it true, you’re back for good?” Caden Dunbar demanded to know as soon as he hopped out of his truck and strolled around to greet Kurt.
“If Leland and I don’t end up killing each other. Good to see you again.” He shook the rancher’s hand before turning to his brother. “You too, Connor. I hope you don’t mind but I invited Doctor Mitchell Hoffstetter to join us. He was out to see Dad and brought up hearing about the club.”
Connor nodded, his blue eyes twinkling as he replied, “We’ve met. He’s a good guy.”
Caden snorted as he opened the door to the diner. “You didn’t think so when you heard Tamara would be working with the new hot doctor.”
With an unconcerned shrug and rueful grin, Connor quipped, “A guy’s gotta look after what’s his.”
“That sure is a change of heart from a short time ago,” Kurt drawled, following them inside the diner and getting his first appreciative whiff of as close to home cooking as you could get in a restaurant.
“The same could be said for you, but I for one am damn glad you’ve come to your senses. There’s no excuse for you not to become a full-time member now.” Caden smiled at the older woman glaring at them from behind the long counter as a 1950s oldie kicked out from the jukebox. “Hey, Gertie, look who’s back.”
Gertie answered with her usual bluntness. “I see. You done with the big city yet?”
“Yes, ma’am. At least until my old man kicks me out.” Gertie and her husband, Dale had opened the diner eons ago and she continued to run the place with an iron hand and deep caring for the town folk after his death.