She didn't even spend as much time with Brownie as she used to, and Brownie wasn't going to put up with that, so a few nights after her brother had pulled her best friend into his study, she knocked on Jayne's door.
"Hey, I'm coming in." Typical Brownie—she said it, then she did it.
Jayne was just pretending to browse through want ads, but she was constantly distracted by thoughts of Pace—him laughing, him hugging her, and Lord knew she was replaying that spanking over and over again in her mind—in minute detail.
The other thing that was bothering her was that she was pretty discouraged that she hadn't had many nibbles on the applications she'd submitted, and the ones she'd had hadn't turned into anything concrete—like a job! She wanted to get out of here—she had to get out of here. Her nerves were frazzled, and she didn't feel quite as safe here as she used to. That wasn't quite true, but feeling horny about a man who had spanked her made her feel very conflicted and unsettled.
Brownie dropped onto the side of her bed. "So? What's with you?"
"What do you mean?" Jayne hedged.
"Don't play stupid. It's not a good look for you. You're harder to track down than Amelia Earhart lately. You're always gone; you're never at dinner. Did my brother do what I thought he did that night? Was I right when I called it—that you were in trouble?" She leaned forward and asked in a hushed tone, "Did he spank you?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Jayne stated, closing her Chromebook.
"I saw you run like a scalded cat to your bedroom that night, but I didn't hear you crying, and I wasn't sure whether I should follow you or not, but apparently, I should have." She made herself at home on Jayne's bed, stretching her legs out in front of her and leaning back against the headboard, saying one more word, "Spill."
"I'm not going to talk to you about it."
"H-he didn't really hurt you, did he?"
Jayne sighed loudly. "What part of 'not going to talk to you about it' is confusing you?"
"The part where I don't get to see you anymore! If you're pissed at him, or whatever, don't take it out on me!"
Her friend looked genuinely surprised at her vehemence—as well as how right she was. "Well. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Do you want to go do something?"
"Now? It's nine o'clock at night, and I'm skyping with Hank at ten."
"I mean it. I'm sorry. Do you have time to get together Friday night?"
That perked Brownie right up. "Dinner? Meet me in Casper. We'll have a girls' night."
"Done."
Brownie hugged her friend. "I know it's only been a couple of days, but I've missed you. I've really gotten used to having you around."
"Thanks. You make me feel like an old dog or a worn pair of boots."
But Brownie just grinned at that. "You're welcome!"
Braeden took that moment to show his auntie the picture he had drawn of the four of them. "That is a wonderful picture, buddy!! That's gotta go on the fridge!" She turned back to the other woman. "So, you're mad at him, right?"
Jayne was trying to clean up the mess that her son had made with his crayons on the floor, while deliberately ignoring her friend.
"And you're avoiding him."
Still nothing.
"My money's on him spanking you," she began to speculate. "And it scared you, so you came whizzing past me while I was minding my own business in the living room in order to try to get away with him."
Jayne had paused at the "him spanking you" part, until she realized that was what she was doing, then she began to rake crayons into the big box she had for them again.
"Oh, so he did spank you." Brownie was much too eagle-eyed to have missed that revealing sign. "But are you afraid of him now or just avoiding him?" she mused, tapping her finger against her lips.
"Maybe I'm avoiding you, although that's gotten much harder since here you are!"
"Well!" Brownie pretended to be insulted at that, but it was darned near impossible to embarrass her about much of anything. "It appears that I have overstayed my welcome." She bent down and hugged Jayne again, saying on her way out, "Meet me at five thirty Friday." Then she paused at the door. "You do know he's just about ape shit about whatever happened between the two of you? I've never seen him like this about any woman. He's all discombobulated, for some reason I'm sure you know and are cruelly refusing to tell me. He's really into you, Jayne."
Jayne snorted loudly to herself after she closed the door, utterly unable to believe that that might be possible, as much as she wanted it to be.
And as much as she had no right to want it to be, since she was still a married woman whose ex kept calling her and leaving threatening voicemails and the same kind of texts, even after she'd blocked him and kept blocking him as he changed his number. At least some of the time she'd spent away from the house had been productive. She'd started divorce proceedings, which left her considerably poorer than she had been—which wasn't easy to do—but Jayne felt that it was a good step for her own mental health, at the very least to get the process of extracting herself from a very bad marriage started.
When Brownie walked into the living room, Pace stood up, jamming his hands into his pockets. "Did you just talk to her?"
"Yes."
"What'd she say?" he asked, not at all sure that he wanted to know.
"She said that she didn't want to talk about it. The only thing I got her to talk about was the fact that she might be avoiding you, but she shouldn't be taking it out on me, so at least you might see her a little more than you are now."
Pace sank down into his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. "I fucked up."
"Well, whatever you did, you made her wary of you again, I think."
"Yeah."
"What are you going to do about that, big brother?" Brownie asked, dropping bonelessly onto the sofa.
"I-I don't know."
It was a very rare thing for her brother not to have a plan of action about something, which is why she was so surprised that he hadn't done anything so far about the stalemate between them.
"Well, you better figure something out, or she's going to be out of this house and you're going to miss your chance with her."
"I don't necessarily agree with you about that, but I do think I need to do something, although I have no idea what."
With that, he turned and headed into his study, while Brownie remained in the living room, worrying about the both of them.
It was two more days before he decided what to do.
Jayne was a bit more present around the house, but it was even worse than it had been when she was first here. She was very skittish of him, and she refused to look him in the eye. He was heartbroken, but he thought that he might have hit on a plan that at least might get her to talk to him.
First, he got Brownie to agree to go away for the day, unexpectedly, without letting her friend know that she was leaving, so that when Jayne got up the next morning—later than she had been, to avoid him—she had no idea that Brownie was gone.
She and Braeden wandered down the hall, and the first thing her son did, of course, was run to him where he was standing in the hallway, as if he'd been standing there, gazing down it. Pace scooped the boy up in his arms and held tightly as he spoke softly to him.
With Brae still in his arms, Pace fixed his gaze on Jayne, who was fully dressed and walking well around him to get to the kitchen.
"Good morning, Jayne," he intoned deliberately.
Her, "Morning," was utterly bland, as if he was a stranger.
But that was more of a response than he'd been getting lately from her. "I haven't had time to have breakfast yet. Would you be willing to cook me some of that great French toast you make?"
"All right."
She still hadn't looked at him, but at least she was talking to him. That was something, he supposed. It was a small victory, but better than none.
Pace was looking forward to having breakfast with the both of them. He'd missed that a lot since
she'd stopped coming out for breakfast at all. But it didn't quite turn out the way he'd envisioned it when she produced two plates—one big one for him with several slices of French toast, made with a little vanilla and cinnamon, sausage, and eggs, and one smaller one with a half a slice of French toast, eggs, and a couple chunks of cantaloupe.
Jayne put them down in front of their intended recipients. She knew that Pace would share a little of his sausage with Brae, but not too much because it would give him an upset tummy. She returned with his coffee and orange juice, as well as her son's apple juice box, but before he could say anything, she disappeared into the living room.
Pace leaned back in his chair, but he still couldn't see her. "You're, uh, not joining us?"
"No, thank you."
"Not hungry?" he asked.
"Nope."
He sighed, but the meal was much too good to waste, so he and Brae ate together, which was no hardship. The little guy was great company, and Pace would swear that he could see him growing before his eyes. It had only been a couple months, and he was already a little taller, he would swear, and a little less babyish, more like a child.
When they were done, he took their dishes out to the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher, cleaned up the kitchen and wiped down the table before heading into the living room where she was.
Not having paid much attention to what he was doing, Jayne got up and went into the kitchen to do the cleanup, but he'd beaten her to it.
Even the table was clean, but she spotted something on it and went to check it out. It was one of those red and white Starlight peppermints, like they had by the bagful in the barn, just sitting there. Jayne shrugged. Maybe Pace had dropped it. He often kept them in his pockets for the horses and for Brae, who loved them.
He was still there when she went back into the living room, and she thought she ought to go back into her room, but she really didn't want to. Days on end of being in there by herself were just awful, and she felt terribly isolated. Maybe she'd go sit on the back deck or the verandah instead.
But before she could do either of those things, she glanced at his chair, and on the arm of it was another of those candies, again, just sitting there. It puzzled her but not enough for her to perseverate over it. It was just kind of weird.
"I think I'm going to head into my study for a little while," Pace announced, and when he left, the candy remained.
Jayne frowned, wondering what was going on, but then there was a knock at the back door. It was Pam. She was the wife of Pace's foreman. All of the hands adored Brae, doting on him something fierce. And Pam had a little girl who was just Braeden's age. Sometimes the two played together, and that was exactly what she was asking if her son might like to do.
"I'm afraid I can't come down, though. I've got to keep filling out job applications."
"No luck yet?" Pam asked.
"Nope."
"Well, something'll come up for you, I'm sure. I'd be glad to take him, though, and bring him back after lunch, in time for his nap, if that's okay?"
"Fine, thank you so much for coming to get him! You know he's got a crush on little Sarah."
"I know; they're so funny together."
"I'll take them next time. Thanks again!"
Jayne closed the door, noting the candy on the dining room table as she passed through again and, also, on the arm of his chair. It was so strange. What was going on with those things today? Did a bag of them explode all over the house?
Before she dove back into her applications—of which she was thoroughly sick by this time—she grabbed a couple of things off the coffee table that she thought probably belonged in his study. He was in there, so she wasn't going to disturb him, but she'd put them just outside the door so he could grab them when he came out.
And lo and behold, there was another mint there, in front of the study door! She picked it up and put it in her pocket.
It was on the tip of her tongue to knock on the door and ask him if knew what was going on, but she didn't. Instead, she continued picking up, creating a pile of Brae's things that needed to go into their bedroom. When she made the trek down there and was coming out of the bedroom again, she glanced at the door to his room, and there was a mint there, too!
Jayne scooped that one up and headed for the dining room table to gather that one, too, noting that he was no longer in the study, but in his chair in the living room, with that last mint still perched on the arm.
So, she crossed the living room to stand in front of him, closer than she usually did, feeling brave—or reckless—enough to dump the candies onto him, asking, "What's up with these? Do you have a hole in your pocket, or what?"
Pace grimaced and shook his head. "No. It was a stupid gimmick I thought would be cute, but you didn't get the reference."
She frowned. "What reference?"
"A while ago, Brownie told me that she'd told you Mischief's story—how I left a peppermint on his stall door to help him get used to me."
Jayne put her hands on her hips. "You think I'm a horse?"
"No, no, no, I have never thought that. I just thought it was a cute idea—you're, uh, timid around me again, and I…" Pace sighed. "Well, it worked with the horse," he said in his defense, which he immediately realized wasn't the smartest thing to say to her at that moment.
She actually squealed in indignation. He'd never heard her make that sound before, but he wouldn't mind hearing it more often. And then she did something that gave him a little hope. Not a lot, but a little. She leaned down and smacked his shoulder.
Pace had never been so happy to be hit in his life.
But when she pulled her hand back to do it again, he caught it before it reached him. "Ah-ahh-ahhh. You only get one."
Then, very gently and carefully, he corralled her onto his lap and into his arms.
She stiffened immediately, but he simply gathered her close, hoping she'd grow to relax against him eventually.
"That's not fair—you spanked me! I should definitely be able hit you at least as many times back!"
"That's not how it works, Jayne," he drawled, low and deep in his chest, when she really wished he wouldn't because she knew that it would work to relax her against her will.
She began to tremble a bit, which made him hate himself even more than he already did, but he forced himself to push those feelings aside in favor of doing what he hadn't been able to do for her a few days ago—comfort her.
"And when I spanked you a couple days ago, that's not how that works, either, just so you know."
She wasn't touching him, not clinging to him as she had that time he'd hugged her, but she wasn't trying to get away from him, either, which he considered a win.
And then she asked him a question in a small, tremulous voice. "It's not?"
His voice lowered even further, nearly to a whisper, and she could hear the earnestness in his tone. "No, baby, it's not. You got all of the punishment and none of the consolation."
"I don't know what you mean."
"I know you don't, and that's a terrible thing, and it's all my fault. I should have anticipated the idea that you would run after I spanked you, but I was much too selfishly absorbed in my own feelings of elation, I guess."
"Elation?" It was a strange word to use in regards to spanking, as far as she was concerned.
"Yes, that's really the best way I could describe it. You'd come into my study and sat very close to me, and you were across my lap, and I was spanking you. I was lost in all of the incredible feelings, at a time when I should have been thinking of you, first and foremost, and because of that, you missed out on one of the most important, best parts of a spanking."
"Huh?" Jayne had no idea what he was talking about, but she was definitely curious. She was highly doubtful that a "best part" even existed.
Pace gathered her closer to him. She was definitely unwinding, in fits and starts, and he consolidated his hold every time he could.
"Aftercare."
"Never heard
of it."
Damn, he smelled good, Jayne thought errantly. He felt much, much too good, too—hard and warm, and his arms were holding her tightly but gently at the same time.
"I'm not surprised, but you should have experienced it. Spanking is a very intimate act, and it creates a lot of very powerful feelings for both parties, but most particularly for the spankee. You."
She met his eyes at that, and he could see the truth of his statement in her eyes.
"So, a good Dom or partner or whatever, makes sure that the person under his care—whom he has had to discipline—is held and cuddled and coddled and reassured afterward, in the arms of the one who cares about her enough to discipline her."
"Oh."
He shifted her a bit, in a way that encouraged her to rest her cheek on his chest, which, after a few moments, she did. Jayne could hear his voice rumble through it, and that made it even more comforting than just the usual sound of it.
"I'm sorry you missed out on it, but if you'd let me, I'd like to hold you now."
Jayne almost smiled, her eyes flitting to his for a second. "Aren't you already holding me?"
"I suppose, but I want you to let me hold you. You're here because I picked you up. If you ever allow me to spank you again, you should demand aftercare from me when it's over."
"I'm not the most demanding of people, Pace."
He squeezed her then relaxed his hold. "I know. But you have the right to be. If I have the right to spank you, you have the right to expect that I'll soothe you afterward."
She wondered just exactly to what extent he might "soothe" her, but she pushed that thought away with a tremble.
"I'm also incredibly sorry that I made you afraid of me again. That was not at all my intention, but then, sometimes I fuck up, too. I apologize."
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