Submitting to the Doctor (Cowboy Doms 7)

“Have fun, Lillian.”

It was hard, but Lillian resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at her friend’s smug face before Nan pivoted and went to join Avery and another woman at their table.

“Good call,” Mitchell murmured with a twitch of his lips.

“What? Are you a mind reader, too?” she snapped, not sure why she was annoyed.

“No, just getting good at reading your expressions. Would you like to dance or get a drink before I show you around upstairs?”

A drink sounded good, a double even better, but didn’t think that request would go over well here. “I’ll take a scotch on the rocks, but I have to get my wallet out of the foyer.”

“No need.” Steering her toward the bar, he grasped her waist and lifted her onto a stool. “Two drinks are part of your guest pass, or membership if you join.”

She frowned, refraining from chiding him over the assistance she didn’t need or ask for. “Why would I join if I’m leaving soon?” And why did voicing the truth produce a constriction in her chest she couldn’t explain?

“Just saying. Master Kurt, this is Lillian, our guest tonight and she’d like a scotch on the rocks,” Mitchell told the bartender.

Master Kurt’s mouth curled in a smile that softened his dark, five-o’clock shadowed face and ink-dark eyes. “Feel the need for a strong nerve booster, do you?”

Lillian shrugged. “I admit to being green about all this,” she waved her arm, indicating the room at large, “so, yeah, a good punch to the system wouldn’t hurt.”

Kurt nodded, the approval stamped on his face giving her a jolt of pleasure. Another one of those responses that perplexed her.

“Mitchell, are you ready for another beer?”

“I’ll hold off for now. We’re headed upstairs for a tour and a few ground rules.”

Both of them smirked as she unintentionally scowled at the word ‘rules’. “What?” she groused.

“Not one for rules?” Kurt asked.

“As Mitchell knows, I’m not one for bossy men. I understand rules are necessary.”

“Ah, that’s what that look was for. I’ll get your drink.”

Mitchell placed two fingers under her chin and drew her head up to face him. “Good. You’re required to show a modicum of respect to all the Masters, but I’ll give you a pass on addressing me as Master Mitchell, or Sir for tonight. If you return, remember that.”

Since she didn’t think that was likely, she agreed and let it go. “Is he a good friend of yours?” She glanced at Kurt, or rather, Master Kurt.

A contemplative look crossed his face as he shifted his gaze toward the bartender. “He returned to his family ranch for good after living a few years in Texas about the same time I moved to Willow Springs. We met when his father suffered a stroke, so, yeah, I know him best out of everyone else. I’m stabling my horse out at his place, so I try to get out there once a week.”

Tonight, dressed in tight denim, cowboy boots and a black tee shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders, thick biceps and six-pack abs, she could easily picture him astride a horse with his Stetson pulled low. She could just as easily recall the vision of him naked and the proof his lean build was made of sinewy muscles that drew the eye as he walked.

“The last time I rode was at girl scout camp. Liana and I,” she paused to swallow down the lump rising to her throat, “we were ten, I think, and the horses were on the smaller size. It was fun.”

He reached for her but she drew back, afraid a conciliatory touch or word would shake her even more. Kurt returned with her drink and she welcomed the distraction.

“Thank you.” Sipping the liquor, she relished the fortifying burn down her throat as Mitchell cupped her elbow again and addressed his friend.

“I’ll be back to introduce Lillian to Leslie, if you’re still

manning the bar.”

Kurt nodded. “I’m on for another hour. Nice to meet you, Lillian.”

“You too.” Gripping her glass, she slid off the stool at Mitchell’s tug, ignoring the flutter of unease in her stomach as he led her toward the stairs leading to the loft where she’d seen the apparatus coming in. All she could see of the upper level on the other side of the barn were three closed doors.

Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he asked, “Are you ready for a tour, or would you rather stay down here longer?”