by Anya Summers
Emily hooted, tears of mirth streaming from her eyes. Mia blushed.
“Magic crotch? Really, Tibby?” Emily asked.
Tibby shrugged. “It’s true. You forget, I’ve known Master Cole for years and I can’t say I remember him ever taking a sub to the club. So I would say she’s roped herself one hell of a Master and bow to her, magic crotch and all.”
Emily snorted.
“I’m not sure he’s mine,” Mia replied. But she wanted him to be. From the moment she’d spied him on his stallion, Oreo, to this morning’s heated lovemaking, she had. And Cole hadn’t taken another woman to his club? She wondered about that and the fact that Tibby considered him Mister Non-Commitment.
Was Cole with her because she was convenient and throwing herself at him? Not many men would turn down a naked woman. Then again, he had stopped by this morning to cook her breakfast and for some nookie. But he’d also conveniently avoided her for three days.
Emily piped up, a thoughtful expression filling her gaze as she studied Mia, “That’s what I said almost six months ago and now I’m marrying his brother. We’re never sure, until we are, that’s part of the risk.”
Tibby nodded. “And I had one commitment before, nine years ago, in fact. Granted, it went belly up and the rat fink bastard left—although, he did leave me with a little gift. But that’s another tale.”
“I still don’t know, I mean. How do you know?” Mia asked. She couldn’t believe she was asking these two women, these strangers, for relationship advice. In her defense, she felt like she was adrift in the ocean and trying to navigate these strange seas with no idea whether she was swimming for land or heading for shark infested waters.
It was Emily who replied, her gaze soft and chock full of understanding, “On whether you can imagine your life without him in it. And keep in mind, they’re not just men, but Dominants, and sometimes you have to make it seem like it was their idea in the first place.”
“And what if you don’t know whether you can trust it?” Mia asked. The threat of tears stung the corners of her eyes and she cursed herself. Wasn’t that her problem? She’d trusted other people, had trusted her judgment of them, only to be proven horribly wrong.
“Well then, you’re up shit creek, aren’t ya?” Tibby said with a wink and friendly grin.
“Tibby!” Emily exclaimed.
“Sorry, I’m not trying to be mean, but everything comes with a little risk. If you’re brave enough to try our club, I think you’re brave enough to trust your instincts on what you feel for Master Cole,” Tibby remarked.
Wasn’t that why Mia was here at the resort in the first place? Wasn’t it why she’d done things like go fishing, horseback riding, and hiking, to not only stir up her stale life but to stop being afraid all the time? She’d known that getting involved with Cole was a risk from the very start of their affair. The problem was she’d fallen for him, and she didn’t know how to handle her feelings.
Mia cleared her throat under their watchful gazes.
“Thank you. I’ve not had anyone put it in that sort of perspective before and I will take your advice under advisement. Can either of you recommend a place in Jackson Hole that would still be open this time of night where I could grab a bite to eat?” she asked, her stomach rumbling. And, she hoped, deftly turning the conversation away from her relationship with Cole.
“Yep. You’re coming home with me. I have a lovely pot roast in my slow cooker and I think you could use some girl talk,” Emily said.
Mia sputtered. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, I—”
“I insist, Mia. It’s this thing that we chefs have inside us where we can’t stand to see someone go hungry. I’m finished here. Tibby, I’ll see you in the morning,” Emily said.
“Right you are, boss. Mia, I’ll see you at the club tomorrow night.” Tibby flashed her a grin and then went back to working.
Emily approached Mia before she could protest, threaded an arm through hers, and steered her out of the kitchen to a door at the back of the lodge. The oak door opened onto a pathway that led up a small hill, with the Victorian style farmhouse at the top.
“Really, you’re being too kind. I don’t mind driving into town and finding a place to eat.” Mia didn’t want Emily to go extra trouble.
Emily glanced her way with a smile. “No, I’m not. I don’t want to leave you with an empty stomach. And you seem like you could use a friend. I don’t want to impose or assume, but I know what it’s like not to have people supporting you—or I did until I moved here and met Mason. Plus, there’s the added bonus that I will ply you with food and wine, and might be able to grill you about Union Pacific.”
“Oh,” Mia said, blinking the sudden moisture from her eyes. At the rate she was going, she was running out of fingers to plug the dam. And she was touched, truly, at the offer of a friendly ear. She knew she’d have to trust someone, sometime, and just like with Cole, there was an honesty and forthrightness to Emily.
“Nothing too invasive, mind you. And I want to be able to tell all my friends back in Los Angeles that I had the pleasure of feeding you,” Emily said with a gamine grin.
“I’m not that much different from you. I still put my pants on one leg at a time,” Mia confided. “Besides, I’m not much good in the kitchen, at least nowhere near your talent. Nor am I necessarily fond of cooking, for that matter. I like eating, but cooking, not so much.”
“I feel the same way about writing,” Emily admitted with a throaty laugh.
Mia couldn’t help but study the ivory Victorian home with stately dark blue shutters and door. This was where Cole lived. With Emily and Mason. “It must be interesting living with Mason and Cole,” she murmured as Emily opened the front door.
“It certainly has its moments,” Emily gave her a smile and then announced, “We have company,” before she ushered Mia inside. “That’s so Mason doesn’t walk into the kitchen and go all Dominant or appear naked.”
“Really?” Mia asked with a laugh.
“Yeah, there was this one time when Cole walked in. Let’s just say there are some things I wish my future brother-in-law didn’t know about me.” Emily’s bemused expression settled some of Mia’s anxiety. Here was this confident woman admitting to and laughing over what Mia was certain was an embarrassing moment. But Emily shrugged it off with a smile.
Mason strode down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a deep forest green flannel shirt. He was casual, minus the cowboy hat he’d worn the other day. And his large feet were bare. It was something he shared with his brother Cole, the large feet, and likely the large attributes below the belt buckle too. Mia could see the resemblance between Mason and Cole, although Mason was much more clean cut than his older brother. His hair was trimmed short and there was a day’s worth of stubble on his proud jaw. Their coloring was different, too, with Mason’s brown hair shades lighter than Cole’s, but there was a similarity in the jaw structure and nose, the shape of the eyes. Cole’s shoulders were just a tad wider, his build hardier and more suited to the life he led outdoors. Whereas Mason’s build, while impressively alpha and masculine, was rangy and lean.
At spying Emily, the smile that slid over Mason’s face, infused with love, made Mia’s belly tumble like it was in a dryer. It was the way Cole looked at her. She didn’t know how to handle that. Did Cole care about her, have deeper feelings for her beyond just the simple enjoyment of the flesh? Could there be more between them than a simple interlude? And how would it work? Her entire life was back in Chicago.
Mason pulled Emily in for a brief if not scintillating hot kiss. Mia noticed the way they fit each other, the way Mason cupped Emily’s face between his large hands and looked at her as if she was his world before he shifted his tawny gaze her way and gave her a gentle smile.
“Mia, it’s good to see you again. I see Emily roped you in for a visit, probably to pump you about the show.” He gave her a wink.
Emily slapped him lightly on the chest. “No. Well, maybe a li
ttle bit. But she came into the kitchen at the Elkhorn needing to be fed and you know I can’t stand to let her go hungry.”
Mason glanced at his fiancée with a knowing half smirk that belied the warmth in his eyes. Emily could tell him she’d invited a band of marauders for dinner because they were starving, and he would be fine with it.
Mia yearned to be loved like that. It was how Cole made her feel when he was with her. It wasn’t until she was left alone that her thoughts, her worries, and fears got the better of her. Her anxiety tended to put her worries on this recorded loop, like the catchy pop radio song that everyone got stuck in their head and played on repeat. Only these tended to send her into a downward spiral of panic that nothing could fix, and she worked herself into a full-blown panic attack.
“Come on into the kitchen and have a seat, Mia. Would you like a glass of wine?” Mason said magnanimously, his arm around Emily’s waist.
“That would be lovely. Thank you,” Mia said, following the happy couple into the kitchen. The main floor of their house had wooden flooring in a warm, golden honey wood color. On the way back to the kitchen they passed a living room with large leather manly couches, with deep seats and a fireplace. There was a study with two desks and inlaid wooden bookshelves. Along the walls were pictures of Mason and his brother, Cole, with an older couple. Cole had always worn his hair a bit longer than was fashionable. But she liked seeing his smile in the candid photographs.
In the kitchen, there were dark cobalt walls with golden pine cabinetry and gray slate countertops. Against one of the walls was a pine dining table with bench seating along one side that was nestled up against the wall. There was a spate of stainless steel appliances. But the real homey touch were the fresh herb plants on the window sill.
“You have a beautiful home,” Mia said and accepted the chair Mason pulled out for her.
“Thank you. My parents built it before Cole came along, so we’ve lived here all our lives,” he said.
Mia remembered that Cole had mentioned it. But seeing the family pictures, the love, the happiness, and loyalty, made her wonder—not for the first time—what her life would have been like if her parents hadn’t died in that car accident.
Mason brought her a glass of white wine and had a seat at the head of the table.
“Thank you. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do to help you out?” Mia asked Emily.
“Word of warning when it comes to the kitchen: it’s better to just let her do her thing and not get in her way,” Mason said with a wry grin and a wink.
“I heard that,” Emily muttered, moving about the kitchen with a confident ease Mia had never mastered, not just in the kitchen but in life.
“And I made sure that you did. So, Mia, how are you finding Wyoming?” Mason’s direct gaze made her squirm a bit in her seat.
“I like it. Different than what I’m used to, certainly, but I’m enjoying my stay.”
“And where is home?” Mason asked.
“Chicago. I have a condo overlooking Lake Michigan.”
“Get out, really? Along the mile?” Emily said, setting a basket of heavenly French rolls and butter on the table.
“Yes, I’m toward the southern end of the mile there,” Mia said.
“They have some of the best restaurants. Some from chefs I know that would make your mouth weep, they are so good,” Emily said, bringing over plates brimming with succulent looking pot roast, steaming red potatoes and carrots.
“Well, if you ever visit, you need to make sure you try Gino’s deep dish pizza. Seriously some of the best pizza you’ll ever taste.”
“I’ve been there,” Emily said. “And you’re right, it was so good. I gorged myself on their pizza until my belly ached. But it was so worth it and I’m not sorry.”
Mia smiled. “I live just a few blocks away and have a meal delivery service I use a lot. When I need comfort food, they’re the ones I call.”
Emily served Mason and then Mia, then finally walked over with a plate for herself.
After the first bite, Mia said, “Oh my God.”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “And you see why I’m marrying her.”
“What? For my culinary skills?”
“Well, your cooking and the fact that I love you to distraction,” Mason said, and Emily visibly melted under his heated gaze.
Mia would have, too.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’d marry you too just to be fed like this every day,” Mia said.
“I like the way you think, Mia. And see, Em? I’m not the only one,” Mason said.
“And Cole brought over some of your buttermilk biscuits this morning. They were so good we ate every single one,” Mia added.
“I was wondering where my biscuits had gone this morning. Cole, that ass,” Mason said and then he attempted to soften his words. “My brother and I tend to have a daily contest to see who can get to Emily’s biscuits first. I slept a little late this morning because of a certain someone, and well, there weren’t any left once I did finally make it into the kitchen.”
“Like you were complaining. If my memory serves me correctly, you were cheering me on rather enthusiastically,” Emily said.
Mia could feel the blush spreading over her cheeks.
“Yes, well, such talk, and at the table with a guest. We don’t mean to embarrass you, Mia,” Mason said, giving Emily a chiding glance.
“No, it’s fine. Good, actually, since Cole is taking me to the club tomorrow night,” Mia said.
At her words, he gave her a cock-eyed grin. “Is that right? He didn’t tell me that.”
“Mason, be nice. I think Mia’s a bit like I was when we first met,” Emily said.
“Ornery and obtuse?” Mason said.
Emily rolled her eyes and said, “A newbie.”
“Ah, I see. I know my big brother, Mia, and he wouldn’t take you to our club if he didn’t think you were ready for it,” Mason explained, his gaze kind.
“And some of it may be a bit of a shock, but trust Cole. Be honest with him about your fears or anything that comes up, and you’ll do fine,” Emily added.
“That’s good advice. I just don’t know what to expect and tend to worry, is all,” Mia admitted and then flushed.
“Trust Cole, he’s one of the best men I know next to my fiancé, and he’ll take care of everything,” Emily said.
Mason picked up Emily’s hand and brought it to his lips, giving her such a passionate glance that Mia was surprised it didn’t incinerate the table.
“Emily is correct. Cole knows it’s your first time at the club and will make sure that nothing untoward happens. One of the most important tenets between a Dominant and his submissive is trust. Have a little faith in Cole,” he said.
“I’m trying,” Mia said.
“Good. That should do,” Mason remarked, studying her with a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Who left room for pie?” Emily asked as she collected empty plates from the table.
“Trust me, Mia, you don’t want to miss one of Emily’s pies. I’ve had to add an extra mile to my run each day to make sure I don’t pack on extra pounds with her cooking, but it’s worth it.”
“Why not? I’ve been in the writing cave for most of the day,” Mia said with shrug. With all the extra workouts she was getting with Cole, she could use the extra sustenance.
“You mean you’re writing the next book here, at the lodge?” Emily asked, her spatula clutched to her chest.
“The last half of it, yes.” Mia sipped at her wine.
Emily whooped and did a little dance. “I’m so excited. Almost more excited than when I got my first set of real knives. I will personally make sure you are fed for the rest of your stay. That way you can work and not have to worry about a thing.”
Mia shifted in her chair. “Really, you don’t have to do that. I appreciate it. But I couldn’t put you out like that.”
“I insist. And I won’t take no for an answer,”
Emily said, bringing over dessert plates filled with apple pie.
“Remember what I said about arguing with her when it comes to food? She means business when it comes to that, so you’re better off caving now,” Mason said, his fork at the ready to dive into his pie.
“Fine, but in exchange I can get you an advanced copy once the new book is available,” Mia offered.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Emily said, plopping down in her chair with a smile on her face.
“That’s what you told me the other night,” Mason grumbled.
“Hush, I’m having a moment,” Emily replied.
“And I’ll be having a moment later tonight, babe, you could bet the farm on that one,” Mason said. His gaze sizzled and Emily had the good grace to blush furiously.
“Really, it’s nothing,” Mia said.
“What’s it like creating such awesome characters, and where do your stories come from?” Emily asked.
“I don’t necessarily set out to create awesome characters, but believable ones. If the end result is that people love them and identify with them in some way, then I’m doing my job right. As for where the stories come from, I wish I could tell you that. I’ve always had a love of books. And after my parents died I used to create stories with them in them. So I think the desire to tell stories has always been there. But where they come from exactly, I don’t know. I think it’s just an innate part of who I am, just like your ability to create in the kitchen, it’s a part of who you are.”
Emily tilted her head and said, “I never would have thought about it like that. But I see your point. Here’s to doing what you’re meant to be doing.”
Emily toasted her with her wine glass. Mia finished her slice of pie and wondered if they would need a barrel to get her home. She caught the glances between Mason and Emily, and not wanting to impose further, said, “Thank you both for a lovely evening. Unfortunately, the book isn’t going to write itself and I should get back. Can I help you with the dishes before I go?”