by Thianna D
Finding Their Bliss
by
Thianna D
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10 Epilogue
About the Author
www.lazydaypub.com
Finding Their Bliss
ISBN-13-978-1-61258-135-4
ISBN-10-1-61258-135-8
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Copyright © 2014 Thianna D
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, any events or locales is purely coincidental. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission from the publisher LazyDay, with the exception of quotes used in reviews and critical articles.
Dedication
I want to thank those who have helped bring Corbin's Bend out of its infancy and into reality.
Staci from LazyDay Publishing
And the nine other authors who embraced this idea with me:
Emily Tilton
Cara Bristol
Tara Finnegan
Constance Masters
Anastasia Vitsky
Corinne Alexander
Kate Richards
Kathryn R. Blake
Maren Smith
To you all, my heartfelt love and gratitude.
Thianna
Chapter 1
The sun glittered off the bright white sidewalks of Corbin’s Bend in the early afternoon. As usual for a Saturday, the children who lived in the housing development were lounging beside or swimming in the heated community pool while their mothers and the unattached women sat chatting nearby. In the clubhouse just fifty feet away, the men of Corbin’s Bend – most of them married – sat talking in the basement, watching sports, and otherwise enjoying the laid-back day.
The door to the basement swung open and a pair of shoes ran down the stairs in the kind of rush the men of the community were not used to hearing from one of their own. Looking up, they were further surprised to find Jason Rolson breathing hard and practically falling down. “Sit down!” Reginald Bearston said in his deep rough voice, standing up and pulling out a chair for his friend. One of the men brought a large glass of water, another a shot of scotch, and they sat down and waited to find out what was so important that the poor seventy-two year old man had rushed to them.
After several drinks of water, Jason drank the scotch in one go and sat back, wiping liquid off his lips even as he pulled out his handkerchief and mopped up his forehead. “I apologize,” he huffed slightly, still catching his breath. “It was just so important…”
“What was important?” prodded Lelo Stevens, a member of the board. None of them had seen Jason this upset since a neighbor first started causing problems. A close community that felt like family, the forming members of Jason Rolson, Calbert Jolly, and Brent Carmichael had created a place they could all call home. A place where people like them could live happily being who they were without interference by do-gooders or nosy interlopers.
After gulping down another mouthful of water, Jason took a nice deep breath before he spoke. “I received notification today that Jessup’s loan was paid off.”
“What?”
“When?”
“That isn’t possible!”
Most of the men who had been there from the beginning were dreadfully annoyed at the announcement, only calming down when Calbert leaned forward to take charge. In his mid-forties, Calbert was only five feet, eight inches tall, but he was stocky and highly intelligent, and, as one of the founding members, the others automatically listened when he spoke.
“What happened, Jason?”
Putting down his glass, Jason grimaced. “You know I have been watching the bastard closely. Ever since the first time Jessup tried to sell out and my company bought his lien to keep an eye on him.”
In the wilds of Colorado, Jason, Calbert, and Brent had bought over thirty thousand acres to build their development on. It was not until they were actually building that they found out what was supposed to be just woods in the midst of their property was, in fact, a property wholly owned by a man named Karl Jessup. He kept to himself, letting them know he wanted nothing to do with them, and as they began their project, they let him know if he ever wanted to sell out, they would gladly buy up his acreage.
Jessup complained at everything they did, from the fact that they formed their corporation as an equity cooperative, which made them able to control who moved in, to their rules and regulations, which he found preposterous. He even complained about the forms they handed all potential residents outlining the fact that the cooperative housing development contained those who enjoyed spanking and domestic discipline and that if they moved in, they would be likely to see spanking on the street as well as in someone’s home.
It was a co-op of over one thousand detached single-family homes, and its residents loved their lives. It released them from judgment they felt elsewhere and gave them a feeling of belonging, as all of their neighbors understood their chosen lifestyle. Over the last four years, Jessup had tried to sell his house and land five times, and each time the co-op moved to buy it, but once they made an offer, he backed off and said he did not want to sell. They tried suing him at one point for not selling to them, as they had offered above his asking price, but it garnered too much negative publicity and they stopped the lawsuit.
“So, how did he pay off his loan?” Brent asked quietly from the back of the room. He never needed to say much to make his presence known, not even in the midst of a room of dominant males. At six feet, four inches tall, he was the tallest of them, but that was not what made everyone turn at his voice. Pure strength surrounded him and each of them knew that if they had a problem, they could go to him and he would move heaven and earth to help. Once you had Brent Carmichael on your side, you had a friend for life.
“Sold it, the whole plot including the house for cash,” Jason spat bitterly.
“How?” Larry Reynolds asked, surprised. “I watch the listings daily. He has not listed that property in two years.”
“Don’t know. All I know is the whole place was purchased by a Mr. C. Kendle and he paid cash.”
Walking forward, Brent placed a firm hand on Jason’s shoulder. “You cannot blame yourself, Jase. Jessup has been a wily one since we first approached him. Maybe Mr. Kendle will be easier to deal with.”
“We can hope so,” Calbert said with a twist of his lips most of the others had never been sure of. It either looked as though he was trying not to smile or as though he was sneering at you. They hoped for the former, but most felt it was probably the latter. Brent was the only one who knew for sure and he never revealed what it meant.
“Gentlemen, let us resume our lives. The sale of that property means nothing,” Brent said calmly. “They cannot trouble us. Our charter is fixed and legal. Let us wait and see what Mr. Kendle is like before we decide the sky is falling. Hmm?”
The amusement in his voice made the tension in the room dissipate, and as the men separated into small groups and went back to their chitchat, Jason sent him a grimace. “I hate that man,” he muttered and Brent just smiled.
“Maybe if you’re a good boy you can spank him in heaven,
” he said with a wink, making Jason and the few men in their general vicinity burst out laughing as he walked back to the corner to resume his reading.
****
Wiping the sweat off her forehead that was threatening to drip into her eyes, Charmagne Kendle picked up the last of her boxes from the back of her truck and trudged into her new house, dropping it on the sofa that sat right in the middle of the living room. When she picked up and moved, she had no furniture at all, and as the move was sudden, she just called a furniture store and haphazardly ordered furniture she saw online to be delivered the day she arrived. The delivery truck was waiting for her as she drove up just before nine in the morning, and she was so tired she just gave them which rooms the pieces needed to be in, not worrying about placement.
Now, looking at the sofa, two armchairs, and coffee table that were set directly back-to-back in the middle of the room, she knew she should have given them stronger directions. Ripping off the plastic that encased one of the armchairs, she dropped into it and moaned. At least it was comfortable.
The move to Corbin’s Bend – a strange name for a housing development if you asked her – had been urgent. Her whole life crashed and burned in front of her eyes and she ran, buying this house sight unseen with half of the cash she had in her bank account. Thankfully it closed in less than two weeks and she wired the money five days ago, packing her boxes into the back of her truck in the dead of night and leaving town, her tail between her legs.
“Trust one person,” she muttered under her breath, blushing slightly at the memory of her former friend’s reaction to her dirty little secret. A dirty little secret that had gotten around town and her work within hours. Within thirty-six hours of revealing her fascination with spanking, she lost her job, her boyfriend broke up with her, and her lease was terminated. Running away had felt right.
Now, in the woods above Denver, she felt a little stupid. Sure, she needed to leave the small town she lived in, but she probably did not need to go two-thirds of the way across the United States to get away from them. She could have moved to a big city. Almost immediately at the thought, she shook her head. Big cities were synonymous with noise, pollution, and crime, and in her mind were the antithesis of the peace and quiet she loved.
Knowing that if she did not get up and start to make sense of things she would end up sleeping in the chair tonight, she forced herself up onto her feet and finally took a look at her new home. Some of the things that had really pulled at her when she heard about it – besides the best part of it being thousands of miles away – were the facts that it was large and open, got plenty of sunlight, and was surrounded by trees. But she had not had the chance to actually look through the house itself. Truth be told, the delivery people had seen more of it than she had.
Moving around her boxes, she walked from the living room into a large kitchen with deep red granite countertops and pine cabinets – though only the lower ones; there were no upper cabinets, which for her was a plus as she was only five feet, three inches tall. She hated having to get a stool to reach things. A large island sat in the middle and she smiled as she looked at it. A cook at heart, she could hardly wait to fix something amazing here. Though, as she only had herself to cook for, it would be stupid to cook anything too remarkable: to her, “amazing” meant sweet, and having sweets around was dangerous. She had an old-fashioned hourglass figure and if she did not watch it, she tended to balloon up quickly.
The side-by-side refrigerator-freezer was practically brand new, as were the eight-burner cooktop and dual ovens. As she ran her fingers along the stainless steel appliances, she could not help but smile. This kitchen could almost match the one she had had in her head since she was a little girl. Through a doorway that stood between the dual ovens and a small marble countertop, she found a huge pantry area that she planned to fill as soon as possible. It was autumn and at some point the snow would begin to fall. She had the feeling going to Denver to stock up on food would not be appealing to her at that point.
Moving back through the kitchen, she glanced at a set of French doors that led off it to what was undoubtedly her back yard. She would look at that later. Instead, she walked into the living room and down a hallway, passing a small room that she figured would work as a dining room. Hardwood floors and ornate wallpapered walls made her smile. This was a fairly new house, only ten years old, and yet the wallpaper looked like something that would have been used in the 1920s.
Moving to the end of the hallway, she turned right into her master bedroom. Her queen-size, contemporary bed was set up in the middle and, thankfully, they had taken all the plastic off of it before they assembled it. It was situated against a wall, right next to another set of French doors. Across from the bed was a large walk-in closet, which she figured she could use for storage, as she really did not have that many clothes. Turning to the other wall next to the French doors, she opened a door and found the master bath, complete with double sinks, a large walk-in shower, and a deep Jacuzzi-style tub. “Oooh, I’m using you tonight,” she moaned, trailing her finger along the side.
The rest of the first floor consisted of a small office with tons of natural light filtering through a large expanse of windows facing due East, and a guest bedroom and bath… if she ever actually invited anyone to stay, and she did not see that happening anytime soon. A stairwell went up to the second floor, but she was tired and just wanted to get a few things done before she crashed for the night. Pulling out a notebook and pen, she began to make a list.
Sheets. Blankets. Food. Cleaning supplies.
Wrinkling her nose, she wondered if there was a closer shopping area that would allow her to avoid going all the way back to Denver. She could kick herself for not stopping there on her way, but she was already running late for the delivery truck and did not want to have to reschedule. Going into her bathroom, she splashed water on her face a few times and blotted it dry with the bottom of her overly large t-shirt before grabbing her keys and purse and heading out. Remembering something, she jotted down “new door locks” before climbing into her truck and heading back down the hill that set her house and property off from the rest of the development.
As she drove through the arch that separated Corbin’s Bend from the rest of the forest, she spotted two women jogging along the road and rolled her window down. “Excuse me!” she called, and both women stopped and turned, confusion and then welcoming smiles on their faces.
“Are you lost?” asked the taller one, a leggy blonde with tiny hips and practically no chest who stood there jogging from foot to foot. Char was pretty sure this woman had never heard of sugar.
“No. I just moved in,” she said pointing over her shoulder at the hill. “I was just hoping there might be a shopping center closer than Denver?” she said hopefully.
The shorter woman, a curvy redhead whose hair was turning gray at her temples, smiled pleasantly. “Not looking forward to heading all the way to Denver? I don’t blame you. When my husband and I moved here last year, the last thing I wanted to do on move-in day was go anywhere.” Sticking her hand through the truck window, she introduced herself. “I’m Kelli Stevens. My husband Lelo is on the housing board. This is Taylor Jennings.” She paused and Char realized they were waiting for her name.
“Char Kendle. Just moved here from the East Coast.”
“Well, we do have a small market,” Tayler said thoughtfully. “It doesn’t have a lot of stuff, but it'll get you through the next couple of days. But there's supposed to be a storm coming in this weekend. You might want to go to Denver anyway, just so you don’t get stuck not being able to go.”
“Drat. I was afraid of that. Okay. Thanks.” They waved as she pulled out of the development and headed down to Denver. The two seemed nice enough, but after her experience with supposed “friends” back in her last town, she could not trust her own instincts. She had believed in them as well. And look where that got her.
It took the rest of the day to get the basics, and by
the time she drove home, she was tired, achy, and looking forward to doing nothing the next day except get her internet hooked up and her newest articles to her editors.
When she woke up the next morning, at first she could not remember where she was, but then she opened her eyes and watched the sunshine that filtered through the windows next to her, and a small smile crossed her tired face. Colorado. Corbin’s Bend. Right.
After sitting up, she made her way to the bathroom where she took an incredibly long shower. At any moment, she expected the water to go ice cold as it had in her tiny place back East, but it did not. In fact, she finally turned off the water – still hot as could be – when she noticed her fingers were beginning to prune. After wandering out to the living room to grab her suitcase and retrieve a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and her underwear, she padded into her kitchen, getting dressed as she went.
The night before, she had been too tired to put all of her food away, so she had packed the frozen stuff in the freezer and the cold stuff in the fridge and left the rest sitting on the counter tops. After plugging in her new cappuccino maker, she put in a packet and a cup underneath the spout, and started carrying the rest of her groceries into the pantry. She thought she had bought a lot, but looking at how much room was left along with how little she had actually purchased, she wrinkled her nose even as the wonderful scent of caramel reached her and she trotted out to take her first sip of pure pleasure.
The coffee definitely did her good. By the time she drank the whole cup, her eyes were fully open and she felt alive. Deciding to make lists for food runs later, she attacked the boxes in the living room. The first ones she grabbed said “Office” in bright pink marker on the top, and she carried them to her new office, setting them onto the desk the delivery men had put together for her. As usually happened, once embroiled with her computer, she lost track of time as she hooked up her router and began her usual work process of downloading her email and getting her social networking out of the way.