RockYourSoul

by Sara Brooks

  “Of course.”

  “Why do you call me that? California, I mean. I meant to ask sooner, but I haven’t had a chance since Joe called to tell me I had the job.”

  Ah, that. He took a few more bites before answering. Some would say his reasoning was silly, but he’d stopped caring what others thought a long time again. “You were listening to California Girls when you came out here the first night. In fact, listening is probably the wrong word. I’m surprised my boat didn’t fall apart from the volume. Don’t think I’ve ever heard someone listen to surf rock that loud before.”

  “Gotta love The Beach Boys. Sorry.” When she blushed, he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so beautiful. He made a mental note to make her do it more often. “My grandfather restores old cars and I used to go cruising with him. Nothing like a little old-school American muscle on a Saturday night. Add in a little surfing music and that’s how I spent the majority of my weekends in high school. The appreciation is what made me decide to hunt down someone who took the time to admire hard work as much as he did.”

  The charming slice of her past made him wonder what other secrets she had to hide. He was going to enjoy spending the time necessary to find out those things.

  “Can I ask how you got into this business anyway? It’s not something you see too much of anymore. Don’t most builders just use machines now?”

  “Some do. But the care of a handcrafted boat is something most sailors admire. Which is exactly what drove me to the profession.” Most of all, he needed something where everyone just left him alone. “I’ve always had a passion for creating things from nothing. Seemed natural enough. What about you?”

  She ate a few bites before answering. “Typical high school teen. Went to college, majored in Slacking Off 101 mostly because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. And mostly because college guys didn’t really take well to a girl swooping in and showing them up on the first day of shop class. I liked to tinker with my hands, restoring old machinery, fixing anything electronic. Comes from working on cars, like I said. Guess that’s why I took to the soundboards so well. First station I worked at let me earn some extra money on the side maintaining their equipment. That’s about it. Nothing special.”

  “Nothing special? I plan to show you how wrong you are.” She choked on a mouthful of stew as he smiled. He refilled their wineglasses. “No captain of the cheer squad, homecoming queen drama that pushed you to become the strong, determined woman you are today?”

  “Oh no, I don’t like performing for people.”

  It was his turn to blink a few times in surprise. The statement was something he understood given the past she described in regards to BDSM, but not another facet of her life. “You don’t like performing, yet your voice filters through hundreds, maybe even thousands, of speakers on a daily basis. You’re very much out there performing for people.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think of being on the radio that way. It’s just me in my booth. Rest of the world doesn’t exist. Besides, cheerleaders are just vapid airheads. High school wasn’t the same for you?”

  Ryan crossed the kitchen with his empty bowl, taking hers when she brought it to him. “I married the head cheerleader.”

  She froze. He wondered what she was more shocked about—the cheerleader comment or the fact he’d been married. Judging by her expression, she also wondered if she’d stepped on any toes with their arrangement.

  Her unspoken apology saturated the air. “I don’t begrudge you for the opinion of cheerleaders. When Lisa was sixteen, she was flaky and irresponsible. She grew out of it, just so you know.” He stepped closer, brushing his thumb over her chin. “And before you stick that foot in that pretty mouth of yours again, wondering if you’re causing some kind of interference—I’m a widower.”

  Her expression changed, sorrow painting those beautiful eyes. “Sorry to hear.”

  He dried his hands on the towel, dropping it to the counter beside the sink. His intention hadn’t been to make her pity him. He leaned against the counter. “What’s going to happen when you find out I was a father too?”

  Utter surprise was an expression that looked good on her. Nearly as much as extreme arousal. Liking it, he leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on her lips before turning away to tidy up the rest of the kitchen. He slapped a damp towel on the basin to dry when he finished, pulling down the arms of his sweater. Her surprised expression was still in place as he turned around.

  “Are you all right?

  “Yes. I think so. You just…caught me a little off guard.”

  “You’re probably wondering how in the world I can order you to sit down using your pet name with one breath and then tell you I was a husband and father with the next.” She nodded slowly. “My apologies. Not my intention at all. I really just wanted you to come here tonight. No scene. No sex. I thought we could talk and get to know one another a little better. Build up a good foundation of trust outside of the D/s relationship in a very casual environment. Telling you I was married and had a family is part of that. You need to know about me just as much as I need to know about you.”

  “I know. I understand that part. Do you have something stronger than the wine?”

  “Sure. How about we head into town, pay a visit to Brogans?”

  She was quiet for the entire ride but seemed to find the courage to speak when they pulled into a parking space in the lot behind the building. “Can I ask who names a bar Brogans?”

  Ryan snorted as he shut off the engine. “My brother hears you call it a bar and you’re on your own.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Ryan gave a soft chuckle as he opened the door, gesturing for her to walk with him. “When our parents passed and we inherited the empty building, Sam and James lost a bet with me. After we decided to make a few changes, I got to name the restaurant anything I wanted.”

  “And the sign? What explains the picture?”

  He glanced up at the image of a large breasted woman wearing a corset barely containing the large globes. The sight of it caused him to smile. “Nothing explains that picture. Just James and his sick, twisted sense of humor.”

  “He’s an artist?”

  “Engineer. Don’t ask.” He waved away the question. “James is my youngest brother. Lives out in Salt Lake City. I don’t understand half the shit he does.” James’ choices weren’t for him to analyze and understand. He’d given up on that long ago too, especially when he’d thrown away all his rights when he’d signed over custody of his daughter Tessa to Sam. The memory burned a hole in his gut, but he wasn’t interested in revisiting that debacle.

  “Anyway, our mom was a huge fan of romance novels when we were growing up. Most of the time we’d make fun of the woman on the front just begging to be kissed.”

  He still remembered those tattered novels scattered around in the living room and even stuffed into drawers and small alcoves so she could read whenever the mood struck. His mother had been a lover of all things romance. The love clearly showed in the long years of marriage to his father and the fact she’d instilled love and devotion in all of her sons.

  A shout went up as they entered. Ryan waved to the crowd as he guided her to the high, polished bar. The customers at the wood counter shoved together to make room for the couple. Ryan tapped his knuckles on the bar in signal to the bartender. A barrel-chested blond wearing a black tee emblazoned with the business’s name across the front made his way over to them. A large dragon tattoo wound its way down his right arm, the tail curling protectively around his wrist.

  “How’s business treating you, Sam?”

  “Can’t complain. Who’s your company?”

  “Beth Lawson, this is my eldest brother, Beckett Flynn. Co-owner of Brogans. Beth took Joe’s job at the radio station,” he said in answer to the question he knew was already forming.

  “Didn’t you just call him Sam?”

  Sam nodded, smirking. “Sam’s a nickname. Growing up, I was hooked on a
television show, Quantum Leap. Scientist created a device to time travel and his name was Samuel Beckett. Family slapped me with the nickname ’cause I watched it so damn much and it just sort of stuck.”

  Ryan had forgotten about the amusing piece of their family history. He’d gotten so used to calling him Sam, he hadn’t thought about the reason why in years. “What was it with you and that damn show anyway?”

  “You wouldn’t know true adventure and excitement if it bit you on the ass. Can I get you two something to drink? Beer for you,” Sam said as he popped the cap on a bottle he pulled from the cooler under the bar and pointed a finger at Beth. “Let me guess, something frilly like a chocolate martini. They were all the rage this past winter. A few of the snow bunnies kept coming in to order them when they decided to leave the lodge.”

  “Whiskey, please. Neat. Two fingers.”

  He stared at her in astonishment before breaking into hearty laughter. Sam slid a glass of whiskey to Beth. “This one has a few surprises in her, Ryan.”

  I certainly hope she does. Hearing the no-frills drink order from her didn’t surprise him. She seemed to be of the no-fuss variety. A facet about her that intrigued him. He was certainly finding quite a bit about her that he found interesting. The tomboyish aspect wasn’t something he usually went for, but found himself drawn to it when it came to her.

  She leaned forward, dangling the glass from her long fingers. “What does seem like my kind of drink, Sam?”

  This should be interesting. Ryan sat back to watch the two verbally spar.

  Sam’s grin widened. “Some girlie-girl drink. A pink, fluffy concoction that seems to be all the rage on Sex and the City.”

  “Watch it a lot, do you?”

  Another booming laugh from Sam broke through the noise of the bar, turning a few heads. He snorted and finally moved off, leaving the two of them alone.

  Ryan sipped his beer, his arm slung casually against the back of her chair. “You have to admit, most women today don’t come into a bar to order such a strong drink. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with it at all. In fact, I like it very much.”

  She spun the glass against the bar a few times before answering. “My father drank whiskey every night when he came home from work.”

  “So you feel it brings you closer?”

  Her hair shifted around her shoulder as she shook her head. “He was an alcoholic. Came home one night after a bender, stumbled upstairs while we were eating dinner, put the barrel of his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Medical examiner said his liver was in complete failure and he would have been dead within the month anyway. The note he left only said he didn’t want to put his family through the misery of watching him slowly die.” A few small lines formed between her eyes as she frowned. “So instead we had to deal with the shock of his suicide. I drink a glass of this occasionally as a reminder of how minor indulgences can escalate out of control and ruin your life.”

  “Whoa. Talk about putting your foot in your mouth.”

  “I find salt helps tenderize the leather. Makes it easier to swallow.” Beth laughed before sipping her drink.

  He loved hearing her laugh. She needed to do it more often. He made a mental note to find things she would enjoy just so she would laugh more. Even if they seemed to be the silliest things in the world.

  “You are just a study of contradictions, Beth.”

  “I could say the same about you,” she fired back.

  The air between them grew charged as he leaned closer. He’d meant what he’d said to her earlier about keeping things strictly casual with them tonight. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t take the opportunity to heighten the mood a little. “I guess the question then is if those contradictions complement each other.”

  “That’s a really interesting question. One I think I’m asking myself too.”

  I’ve got you, fucking cunthole.

  He’d followed them to Brogans from Ryan’s house. Who the hell lived in the middle of nowhere? He watched the couple, disgusted with the way they angled their bodies, smiling at one another over their glasses full of vile drinks.

  Alcohol corrupted, eating away at your soul. He thought Beth had known that perhaps better than anyone. He was repulsed by the fact he was being forced to sit in a bar, surrounded with the evil liquid. But it was a necessity to get closer to that which he desired.

  Anger coiled his stomach, an infuriated snake ready to attack. He could smell her even through the horrendous stench of humanity’s indulgence. She wasn’t the only woman he’d been with who wore his favorite brand of perfume, but she was the only one he identified it with. He forced other submissives to wear the perfume in an effort to replicate Beth, but they’d all failed him.

  Their smiles hadn’t been hers.

  Their cunts hadn’t been hers.

  Their blood hadn’t been hers.

  He’d been forced to dispose of them when they’d failed to satisfy him.

  No matter what he did, no matter how hard he worked, he knew everyone would pale in comparison to her. They weren’t as special as she was. He’d made sure each of those women he’d tried as a replacement had known they could never live up to Beth’s perfection. When they’d apologized and begged for his leniency, he’d been forced to punish them until their screams had grown silent.

  Fucking women. Failures. Every last one of them.

  Such a letdown.

  Beth wouldn’t disappoint him. She would give him everything he demanded and then some without complaint. She’d take it because the sadistic bitch enjoyed whatever he doled out. Her screams still filled his head with their musical melody.

  Oh how he missed her special tune.

  The couple across the expansive room leaned their heads together, carrying on a quiet conversation only the two of them were privy to. He narrowed his eyes as his blood boiled hot through his veins.

  It took all of his restraint, but he stayed in the chair on the far side of the room. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, but something told him simply playing observer tonight would provide the huge payoff in the end.

  He didn’t like the feeling of simply watching. It made him feel helpless and weak. A pitiful excuse for a Master. He liked being in control, liked the power being the one calling the shots gave him. If he was watching, he was still the one in control. Those under his command would follow his orders because they were pathetic excuses for humans who bent to his will.

  Just the way he liked it.

  Despite his careful teachings with Beth, despite all the time he’d taken showing her how much he loved and cared for her, the bitch had left him.

  Unacceptable.

  She would pay for her insolence.

  For once he didn’t care how long it took to have her bend to his will once again. He had the patience necessary now to wait for the perfect moment. The payoff of her bloody and broken before his feet would be the greatest reward.

  Chapter Seven

  Beth fumbled a lever on the still-unfamiliar soundboard, scowling at the knock on the studio window. She wasn’t used to the wide-open visibility while she was on air, but short of installing some blocking curtains she’d have to get used to being on display. Besides, the view of Main Street lit by the moon was too pretty to shut away behind black drapes.

  Had this been Nashville, those curtains would already be installed and shut. But Gatlin Falls had a much lower crime rate. She’d learned a lot about the small town in the short period of time she’d been here thanks to Ryan.

  He’d done his best to introduce her to all the locals, so she felt comfortable taking the reins of the radio station. He’d also done his best to see she felt comfortable around him whatever the situation. So she wasn’t surprised to find Ryan standing on the other side of the window in the middle of her shift.

  She tapped the security lock for the door, waving him in. It seemed impossible, but he’d taught her so much in a short amount of time. The power and commanding presence just flowe
d from him. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Her body seemed to call for it every time he was near.

  Unfortunately, since she’d landed the job, she hadn’t seen him much. She’d thrown herself into learning the board so she could be familiar with it as soon as possible and be ready for her first night alone. Two days ago, Joe had been convinced she was ready, but she didn’t share the sentiment. She kept screwing things up.

  Of course, the fact she couldn’t stop thinking about Ryan didn’t help matters.

  She found herself still trying to process her situation. The dinner he’d prepared at his house had come as a shock, just as hearing he’d been married and had a kid. It was important for people involved in a D/s power exchange to build trust outside of the sphere in which they played. But everything they’d done since that night at the warehouse had been so…normal. There hadn’t been a trace of any of the dominance he’d exhibited the first night and then later in the warehouse.

  As normal as it may have been, it certainly hadn’t swayed her libido any if the way her blood started pumping hot through her body whenever he was near was any indication. He leaned against the doorway as he held open the glass door separating her studio from the waiting area, smelling of liquor and cigarette smoke.

  Jesus, those two smells should not turn me on.

  “Just come from Brogans?” She’d quickly discovered the pub was the place for locals to hang out regardless of the season or time of day. A comfortable gathering place they all gravitated to when they wanted to hang out with their friends.

  “I did.” He gave her a sly smile. “According to what I hear from the customers there tonight, sounds as if you’re a hit.”

  Glad they feel that way because I sure as shit don’t. “Saying a bunch of drunks waiting for last call think I sound good isn’t saying a lot. I’m fumbling my intros and screwing up the cues on nearly every single track. I sound like a fucking amateur. Why the hell do I do this again? I just need to lock myself in a garage somewhere and stick to the mechanical shit I know.”