by Anya Summers
With concern evident in the set of his jaw and in his eyes the color of the sea at sunset, he entered the room and glanced at the sleeping child before turning his enigmatic gaze back to Sadie. With his hands in the pockets of his slacks, he said, “I heard through the grapevine that you have been coming to see her a lot.”
“Yeah, I have.” There was no reason to lie. Her name was in the log visitor files, listing the times she arrived and left for the day. Besides, it wasn’t like she was hiding her visits from anyone in particular, like Ram. Just the fact that she wanted to foster Grace. Sadie still couldn’t explain why she was keeping it to herself, why she wasn’t talking about it. Except, that wasn’t true, either. Deep down, Sadie was worried that if she mentioned it to him, it wouldn’t happen. Almost like how, when you wished on a falling star, you couldn’t tell anyone what you wished for. And she was wishing for Grace hard. It was going to hurt like hell if she was denied.
“And that you applied to be a member of Club Underworld,” Luc said with a raised brow and a hint of steel in his gaze. It was the same look she’d seen in him when trying to save a patient, a refusal to surrender that was an inherent part of him.
“Ram mentioned you are a member. I did apply for that too. About that; please don’t say anything to anyone here at the hospital. I’m not sure how it would be received.” Since she was still trying to get a handle on the lifestyle and all it entailed, Sadie wasn’t prepared to defend herself. And she wasn’t sure why the thought raised her hackles. Perhaps it was because BDSM was reviving her, making her come alive, and showing her just how dead to the world she had been these last two years.
Luc held up a hand and said in a low voice, “Let me stop you right there. We keep that information to ourselves. It’s part of our bylaws once you become a fully-fledged member. You don’t disclose who belongs to our club to anyone. But I admit I never pegged you for the lifestyle.”
Sadie was proud of herself that she didn’t squirm beneath his frank gaze. “Ah, so it’s like Fight Club. Got it. To be honest, I never would have thought so, either. But it’s helping me in ways all the therapy never did. I’m just now coming to realize how much I’ve needed it in my life. I have a lot to learn yet, but I’m glad I found it.”
“You’ll learn. You’re too much of a perfectionist not to excel at the lifestyle like you do in the ICU.”
Was she a perfectionist? A people pleaser, most definitely. Then again, she had spent more than six hours last night doing a deep clean of her place for the inspection today, so he might have a point.
Luc was one of the best doctors at the hospital. Many of the nurses and support staff were in love with him. She had never felt the tug of attraction with him, though. Not that he wasn’t gorgeous, because he was, but he’d always felt more brotherly than anything else.
He pegged her with a stare. “Not that I don’t applaud your efforts, but why are you coming to see Grace?”
“Because I can relate. I know more than anyone what it’s like to lose everyone you love in the blink of an eye. I think that means I can help her more. I’m going to foster her. Or I’m trying to, anyway. She doesn’t have anyone else; they’ve not been able to locate any other family or relatives to take her in. If I am approved, I might need your help finding a job at a local practice that’s more of a nine to five gig.” She had already considered the time it would take, the energy, too, in raising Grace. She would have to get her into a respectable daycare. There was so much to do. She’d be wading into the deep end of parenting, on her own, and figuring it out as she went.
“If you’re serious about leaving the hospital, I have an opening at my practice I need to fill. You can come work for me. As you know, I only do two rotations a week in the ICU. My practice could use someone with your skills.”
“You want to hire me, even with my PTSD episode the other day?” Sadie didn’t want to get excited about the opportunity, especially since he was a doctor she liked. Not all were as friendly and competent. With some of them, it took every ounce of strength in her not to punch them, or seriously contemplate murder.
“Sadie, you’ve done what you have needed to do to help heal yourself. I know you might have another episode, and will expect you to keep communication open if you feel you are about to have one, if you can, and it doesn’t come on suddenly. So, to answer your question, yeah. I know you’re great with patients, and I’ll work with you since you’ll have your hands full. Let me ask you, do you want to do the switch even if you don’t end up fostering her?”
Sweet Jesus, did she ever. Working at the hospital had been one of the problems that Sadie hadn’t begun to see until recently. “Yes. When I moved here from Seattle, I think I was trying to keep things like my job the same, thinking it would make the transition easier with everything else being so new. But the emergency factors, losing patients like that, are triggers for me.”
“Okay, then welcome aboard. Let me know when you give notice to the hospital. We can set up a day for you to come into my office.” Luc glanced at Grace, taking note of her injuries. “You do realize that you might need to take a few weeks off before you start.”
“Yeah, that had crossed my mind.”
“I can give you an advance if—”
She held up a hand. “Money’s not an issue. But I thank you for the offer just the same. If you could keep this,” she gestured to Grace, “between us for now, I would appreciate it.”
“Certainly. I understand. Call me on my cell if anything comes up.” He scribbled his number on a notepad and handed it to her.
“Thanks, Doc.”
He saluted her as he left the room. Sadie sighed. Her world, which had been vastly askew and jumbled to the point of being unrecognizable, was finally evening out. In fact, it was starting to get good.
She hated to wonder if that meant the other shoe was about to drop, to upend her life once more.
Later that same afternoon, Sadie had an appointment with Marsha. This was her second meeting with her. The tall brunette with an hourglass figure was a handful of years older than Sadie. In her pinstripe skirt and sunshine yellow blouse, she was stunning.
“It’s nice to see you again, Sadie. Why don’t you have a seat and we can get started?” She gestured to the gingham chairs in her office. Her office was cozy, decorated in a farmhouse chic. The prints on the walls depicted roosters and cows. Her desk was rustic, repurposed wood in an understated taupe. A weather vane hung overhead. The bookshelves were tastefully arranged, with plants. Everything about Marsha’s office was as welcoming as the woman herself.
“I appreciate you squeezing me in on such short notice.”
Marsha waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it. Tell me, how are things?”
“They’re good.”
She lifted a brow.
“Okay, they are getting there.”
“Mmmhmm. I want you to take me back to the day of your PTSD episode and give me a step by step. Don’t leave anything out.”
Sadie did so, her belly unclenching as she talked.
Marsha was thorough in her questions. “And what are you doing to combat the PTSD?”
“Besides talking to you, there’s Ram. I mean, he’s not mine. He was my therapist but now he’s training me in the lifestyle.”
Marsha cocked her head. “Master Ram is training you? Hmm, I had wondered why he sent you my way, other than because you were a new submissive getting your feet wet. That’s interesting. And do you want him to be yours?”
“Ram? I hardly know him. What we have is an arrangement of sorts… He’s training me to be a submissive. I feel comfortable with him showing me the ropes. But it’s all going to end.”
“And why do you think it needs to end if it is a relationship that satisfies you? Master Ram is a good man, loyal and trustworthy.”
“I know that. He’s special. But we set parameters up, deciding that when he leaves to take his kids back to their mom in Dallas next weekend, this thing between us is done.�
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“But it sounds to me like you’re not happy with those limits. Why can’t they be changed? If it’s what you want? Is Ram someone you want for longer than a trial run in the lifestyle?”
“Yes,” Sadie blurted, but then back stepped. “I don’t know. It’s still so soon.”
“When I met my husband, Master Dan, whom you will likely meet at the club one night, I wasn’t looking for anything long term. I was perfectly happy flitting from one Dom to the next and trying them all out like an erotic buffet. But Dan changed everything. After one night with him, I knew there weren’t any other Doms who would ever fit me the way he did. We were like a lock and key finally finding one another. We’ve been together ever since, going on ten years now.”
It was easy with Ram. They fit. Sadie didn’t want to admit that because she knew what it was like to lose someone you cared about. “I don’t know, Marsha. He makes me feel things, things I never thought I would. And they go far deeper than anything I experienced with my husband.”
“And that bothers you?” Marsha looked up from her notes.
Exasperated with herself, Sadie replied, “Yes. Shouldn’t it? I have felt more deeply in a single week with Ram than I did in four years with Henry. How could I not feel guilty?”
“Think of it this way: you love both apples and oranges, but oranges tend to satisfy you more. It doesn’t mean the love you have for apples is less, just different. The same can be applied to people. Just because you love Ram, doesn’t make the love you had for your husband less.”
“Hold up, I never said I loved Ram.” Sadie didn’t love Ram. She couldn’t, so soon. Right?
“Okay, but you do. It’s written all over your face when you talk about him. I’m not saying this to scare you, Sadie. And if you’re not ready to admit your feelings to yourself just yet, then that’s all right too. Just don’t shortchange what you could have with Ram out of fear and misplaced guilt.”
Love. Was that what she was feeling for Ram? She sighed. Yes, she believed she just might be in love with him, and had no idea what to do with that bit of information. “I’ll think about it. Things are moving at quantum speeds. I had the home inspection this morning.”
“And how did that go?”
“Great. I think I might have a real shot at fostering Grace. She and I have a connection. Although she has such a sweet personality it would be hard not to.”
“I think it’s fantastic that you’re doing this. You have an empathy for her that no one else could quite match. What does Ram think about you fostering Grace?”
Sadie grimaced and stared at her hands in her lap. “Nothing. He doesn’t know that I’ve applied to be her foster mother.”
“So you haven’t told Ram that you’re planning on fostering a three-year-old? Come on, Sadie, really?”
“Is it his business? We aren’t even really a thing. And yeah, I might be stupid because I have developed feelings for him—deep ones, to boot. But our relationship is just a temporary arrangement that will be over by this time next week,” Sadie said, rather depressed when she thought of their imminent demise by the following week’s end.
“You sure about that? Your relationship being temporary?” Marsha asked, her gaze kind.
“No. But I can’t worry about it. I have enough anxiety over everything else. He’s made it clear that this thing will not continue when he returns from taking his kids back to Dallas. And I would look like a fool if I asked for more time with him.” Because then he would know she had done the unthinkable and fallen for him.
And Sadie wasn’t ready for that kind of let down from Ram. Not by a long shot.
Chapter 19
With bullfrogs hopping in her belly, Sadie exited the Lyft, tipping her driver a twenty as she emerged from the Lexus to stare at Ram’s home. He lived in the suburb of River Ridge outside the city on a well-manicured, tree-lined drive. The distant racket of a dog barking and a lawnmower motor running were some of the only sounds. It was far enough away from the traffic-lined streets of the city and without the frenetic energy of the Quarter. There were dragonflies whizzing by her as they danced upon the breeze, and their wings’ whirring hum filled her with a kind of peace her own place didn’t. She stared for a moment at the semi-circular drive and his home. The small, tasteful mansion was light blue, with gray stone pillars to make it appear homey and down to earth. The whole scene charmed her and made her feel a bit like Cinderella about to attend the ball. Only this ball included his kids.
She didn’t know what it meant that Ram was comfortable enough to have her interact with his kids. And this time, it was planned, not an accidental running into one another.
She had brought a tin of homemade cookies, hoping to win Angela and Rocky over. Although why it mattered that they liked her when this would all be over in a week, she wasn’t sure.
The size of his home, the understated display of wealth, didn’t surprise her really. Ram was a great psychologist. In her free time, though she hated to admit it, she had done some internet stalking, curious about the man who could melt all the bones in her body with a single kiss. In his years as a psychologist, he’d won awards and been named one of the top psychologists in the city five years running. The fact that his home reflected his success in an understated way was in keeping with the man himself.
Sadie took it all in on her way up the drive to the front door. The yard was well-maintained and the grass looked like it had recently been cut. The drive was framed with large oak trees covered in moss. There were flowering plants along the walkway to the front porch. Someone had a green thumb—or a good gardener.
She rang the bell beside the navy double front door with beveled frosted glass, feeling anxiety creep into her shoulders and tension clenching her muscles. She was going to be around his kids again. Did that mean something? Like he wanted more with her? Was he considering a long-term arrangement?
That made her sound a bit like a hooker. Arrangement. Jesus. She meant long-term relationship. Was tonight an entreaty on his part, to open the lines of communication and discuss their potential for more?
She was thinking about this because Marsha had brought up the L-word. Sadie did have feelings for Ram. How could she not? He was passionate, loyal, deep-in-the-bone good, and knew just how to love her. That was all on top of being hot as hell.
Ram answered the door and her panties got wet.
“Glad you made it. We really need to get you driving again.” He wore an old green cotton tee shirt with the word ARMY written across the chest. The material was butter soft and clung to his muscular chest like a second skin, hanging looser over his abs. His tan cargo shorts were slung low on his hips, and his feet bare—or rather his foot, with his prosthetic visible. Again, Sadie didn’t know what it meant that he was comfortable enough with her to display it openly. She hadn’t lied when she’d said she didn’t mind it. But he had acted like he did.
Was this some sort of test?
She cleared her throat. “Hi. I appreciate the invite. I know you said that we’ll be doing s’mores, but I brought cookies. They’re homemade.”
While she’d been speaking, Ram’s gray gaze had given her a once over, taking in the halter sundress in sea-green ombre that ended just above her knees, and gladiator sandals. She didn’t know how he did it—turned her on with a single smoldering glance so that she hungered for his touch.
“Depends on what kind of cookie.”
“Double chocolate chunk.” She held out the tin.
“Acceptable. If you had said oatmeal, I would have questioned whether we could be friends anymore. Come on in.” He stepped aside, but just enough so that as she entered, she had to brush past him.
She shivered. Goosebumps rose on her forearms. And she had to fight every instinct in her being not to turn in to him. The interior foyer was bright and airy. The overhead golden chandelier spilled light over the ebony wood staircase on the right. The gray-spindled marble tile floor lead to a great room with more of the same ebony
hardwood flooring as the stairs.
With his palm on her lower back, he propelled her past the great room with its large sectional sofa and big screen television that practically took up an entire wall. It made the room seem like a small, tasteful movie theater—with much better seating and the ability to pause the show to grab more popcorn. That room, with its high ceilings and comfortable oriental rug, bled into the dining room and kitchen: a chef’s dream of a kitchen. It was modern and sleek with stainless steel appliances, ivory cabinetry, and dark gray granite countertops.
“Let me take those. And you can leave your purse in here. I have the chicken on the grill already.” Ram removed the tin from her hands. The soft brush of his fingers was a delicious shock to her system.
Every damn time. It would be one thing if, after their first initial hookup at the club, her attraction, her need, and the quixotic pull he had on her senses had diminished. But it hadn’t. If anything, it had grown so that she was more aware of him than that first time; more drawn to him and his intoxicating form.
She released the cookie tin and set her purse on the counter by a charging tablet, figuring it would be out of the way there.
Ram set the tin down and lifted the lid, snagging a cookie.
“Hungry? But won’t that mess up your dinner?”
He took a bite, defiant. Then he moaned low. “Christ, these are good. I might have to hoard them away from the kids or I will never get any.”
“I can always make more.” But that implied they would have the time. That they weren’t staring down a deadline for this thing between them to end.
“We’ll see. I gotta watch my figure,” Ram teased.
She raised a brow. “Oh yeah, I can see you’re fighting the bulge. Better lay off those or people will call you Master Heifer.”
He took a step into her and in a low voice said, “That’s not the bulge I’m fighting. And you keep calling me that, I’ll just start adding it to a tally.”