Back in Charge

by Dinah McLeod

  "Can I help you with anything?"

  "Ex-excuse me?" she stammered, hugging the book even tighter to her chest. What were the odds of it bursting into flame right here? There was something in the Bible about evil not being able to exist in the presence of good, right? She could only guess what category Mrs. Robinson would put porn into. Oh, well. At least if it did, it would take her with it.

  "I said, do you need help finding anything? You seem to have gotten turned around." Mrs. Robinson eyed the sign that read ADULT FICTION and looked back at Sadie meaningfully.

  "Oh, yes, ma'am. I guess I have. Do you know where the prayer journals are?" She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Overcompensation. Surely, Mrs. Robinson could take one look at her and know that she'd never written in a prayer journal in her life. Well, except for that one time she'd wanted the hot guy's phone number and hadn't had anything else. Not that that relationship had turned out to be worth praying for!

  "Of course, dear. Follow me." Mrs. Robinson beamed.

  Phew. Sadie wiped imaginary sweat off her brow and followed behind Mrs. Robinson, pressing the book into her chest until her boobs hurt. She couldn't slip the book into her purse now, even if she wanted to. With Mrs. Robinson watching her every move she wouldn't just be fined—she'd go straight to hell! Sure, Jesus might forgive her for stealing, or for reading porn—okay, she planned to devour it, savoring every word, not just read it—but both would surely be grounds for talking to the horned fellow with the pitchfork.

  "Here they are. Well, I'll just leave you to it."

  Sadie gave the older woman the best smile she could manage and pretended to look through the prayer journals. OK, calm down. She's gone. The longer she was in the store, the more the book felt like a hot iron pressed to her chest that would, at any moment, burn through her shirt and make everyone in the store aware of the fact that she hadn't gone bra shopping in over two years.

  Time to get out of here, she thought, with more determination than she felt. Pushing the prayer journal she'd idly pulled out back on its shelf, she began to make her way toward the register. She glanced side to side, but so far there was no sign of Mrs. Robinson. Good.

  Nothing to see here. Just a woman buying a book. Like women do every day. Just an ordinary, boring book.

  Oh, who was she kidding? Sissy Red Bottom was anything but boring—which was why her heart had been pounding ninety-to-nothing ever since she'd seen the book sitting on the shelf.

  She inconspicuously sidled up to the register, but no one was behind it. Biting her lower lip and tapping her nails on the counter, she looked around.

  "I'll be right there, dear! Just finishing up over here!"

  Oh, crap. Mrs. Robinson again. There was no way—no way she could let the preacher's wife check her out. How would she be able to look her in the eye on Sunday? Forget Sunday—she'd never be able to cross paths with the woman again! It was a small town, what were the odds of that? They'd have to move. They'd be run out of their home because in moments every old lady who'd ever brought her a casserole dish would start passing around a petition to get them out. How would she ever explain it to Robert?

  It was time to forget the book and run. There really was no other choice. Reluctantly, Sadie put the book on the edge of the counter, gave it one last regretful look and began speed-walking toward the exit.

  "Sadie? Where are you going, dear? Here I am!"

  Oh, no. Mrs. Robinson was now walking toward the counter. Any minute she'd see the book Sadie had been holding and old ladies would be coming in droves to her lawn bearing gifts of moving boxes and duct tape.

  She did an abrupt about face and rushed to the counter, lunging for the book. Her fingers brushed the spine and she felt a momentary leap of triumph. That was, until Mrs. Robinson pulled it away. Damn.

  "I'll just ring this up for you. Just the one?"

  Double damn. Any moment now, she'd see the title and the process of excommunication would begin. Okay, they weren't Catholic—what was the Baptist version called? Oh, that's right: the cold shoulder with a side of condemning eye.

  "Mrs. Robinson—" Sadie didn't know what she was going to say, only that she had to say something. Maybe she could hurry and create a diversion. "Oh, look, is that Patrick Dempsey?" The minute she turned her head, Sadie's hand snaked toward her, intending to pluck the book from her fingers. Before she could, Mrs. Robinson's attention was back on her full force.

  "Who's that now?"

  Shit. She should have used someone else. Who was it that old women were into? Richard Gere?

  "Never mind. You know, on second thought, I don't think I want the book after all." Which was an absolute lie, but what else could she do?

  "All right, if you're certain, but I've heard that Caned for Her Crimes is quite the… intriguing read."

  Sadie froze on the spot, certain that her feet would stay there until they merged with the carpet that hadn't been changed since the eighties, by the looks of it. She couldn't have heard her right. And yet, there was a twinkle in Mrs. Robinson's eye as she leaned over the counter.

  "A friend of mine read the entire thing when it released this morning. I wouldn't want to give out any spoilers, but she said it was Sissy's best yet."

  Well, if that wasn't just twisting the knife, she didn't know what was!

  "And, if it's Mr. Robinson you're worried about, or your husband, well, I can promise that this will be our little secret."

  Sadie let out a sigh of relief, freeing breath that she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. "Thank you for your… discretion, Mrs. Robinson."

  "Anytime, dear. I'm hoping Mr. Robinson doesn't get wind that there's a new one. There's only so many sermons on the modern Sodom and Gomorrah that I can sit through. Now, I love my husband, but sometimes being the pastor's wife is exhausting," she confessed.

  "I'll do my part by not breathing a word." Sadie let out a nervous giggle, hardly believing her luck as her book was rung up and she finally—finally—paid.

  Mrs. Robinson gave her a wink before handing over the bag. Sadie couldn't get out of the store fast enough.

  Chapter Three

  When Robert came home with sore feet and an aching back from a long day's work, he was surprised and pleased to see Sadie at the stove. She hadn't heard him come in, so he leaned against the wall and watched her work. She was humming to herself, her cheeks pink and tendrils of her soft, blonde hair falling over her face. Seeing her like this, looking like the woman he remembered before they'd had a third child, was an immense relief.

  When she started shuffling her feet in rhythm to the tune she hummed, he had to grin. She had snapped out of whatever had come over her in the last few weeks. She was his Sadie again—just as beautiful as the day he'd met her. The two of them had met in college. He'd quite literally bumped into her, sending her text books scattering across the quad. When he realized, he'd apologized profusely and bent to help her stack them. Only when they'd all been collected did he look at the woman herself.

  From the first moment he met her eyes—a pale, soft green that reminded him of the first buds of spring—he'd felt a smile tug at his lips where she tugged at his heart. It wasn't love at first sight, nothing as dramatic as bells chiming or fireworks. Theirs was a relationship of two people whose attraction and affection deepened with every hour they spent together, and he thought that was better than any fairytale. She never believed him when he told her, but he truly didn't believe she had aged a day. Sadie was tiny and petite, with a trim waist that hadn't changed even in birthing three children. Her adorable elfin face was her best feature, her eyes framed by long, dark lashes and full, kissable lips. Looking at her shimmying her hips as she cooked made him fall in love with her all over again. He'd known they could get through this—together, he and Sadie could weather anything.

  Suddenly, she pirouetted, a large smile on her face, which he mirrored. Then, she caught sight of him, and like magic, it disappeared. "What are you doing?" she demanded
, a scowl marring her lovely face.

  "I was just watching you."

  "I can see that. Why?"

  "I like to watch you, Sadie."

  "Hmph," she grunted, turning away from him, her mood clearly soured. "I'm fat."

  She muttered it under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear. He covered the distance between them in one long stride. "Why would you even say that?" he asked, taking hold of her hips.

  "Don't." She shrugged him off irritably.

  "What did I do?" he asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion as he stepped away.

  "Nothing, just… I'm hot and sweaty right now, and my face is a mess."

  "What does that have to do with anything? I don't care about your face."

  The piercing glare she shot him was her only response.

  "What? You know what I mean! It doesn't matter to me—"

  "It matters to me," she interrupted, her voice low, but with plenty of heat behind it.

  Robert held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, got it. So… what's for dinner?"

  "Grilled chicken, mashed potatoes and kale chips."

  "Kale what?"

  "Kale chips," she answered tartly.

  "How on earth do you make a chip out of a vegetable?" He said it with a chuckle, but that quickly died on his lips when she spun around, one hand on her hip and the other brandishing the wooden spatula she'd been cooking with.

  "You know, I try to do the right thing and cook a healthy meal and all you can do is criticize."

  "Sadie—"

  "You know what? I don't want to hear it. Go get the girls for dinner."

  He pinned her with a pained look and didn't look away until she let out a long-suffering sigh.

  "Please," she added begrudgingly.

  "Sure, honey. It smells great, by the way."

  "Mm-hmm."

  Shaking his head and wondering if he'd ever come to understand his wife, he turned to do as she asked. He was at the stairs when he happened to glance down at the end table. There was a red paperback peeking out from behind a stack of mail. Was Sadie reading again? He hoped she was—he knew that she missed it, but she always complained that she didn't have the time. Out of curiosity, he slid the book toward him, depositing the mail on the end table. When he read the title, his eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. Caned for her Crimes?

  His interest piqued, he began to flip through the book. The word "spanking" caught his eye more than once. Was this what she was reading? Did that mean that she wanted to be spanked again? Why hadn't she said anything?

  It was all too much to process right now. Besides, he had to get the girls washed up for dinner, and he was hungry. He put the book down and headed for the stairs, determined to have a long conversation with his wife as soon as he could work out what it all meant.

  ***

  "You know better than that," Bruce scolded as he pinned Margo's kicking legs with one of his own.

  "Stop it!" she cried, twisting and trying to escape his hold to no avail.

  "Not until your bottom is bright red and you're a very sorry little girl," he scolded, raising his hand high and bringing it down with a resounding smack that made Margo begin to cry.

  Sadie paused in her reading, savoring the scene in her mind's eye. Every word was so deliciously yummy that she could feel her belly in tight knots of anticipation, and her pussy was dripping with the same expectation of release. She was enjoying the book even more than she'd thought she would. It made her wistful, but every time those thoughts started creeping in, she shook them free. She didn't want to focus on anything that would deter her from enjoying her book.

  Bruce was hot, there was no doubt about it, but he was no match for her own husband. Thinking about his thick black hair and matching stubble on her chin made her grin. The knots in her tummy loosened and went taut once more when she pictured his deep blue eyes, handsome, angular face, and those abs! Mmm. Every girl he crossed paths with couldn't help but do a double-take at those smokin' babies. She could think of more than once when she'd noticed a woman checking out her man, but bless him, Robert never noticed. He was tall, especially so compared to her. He was just over six feet, but since she was 5'2", it made her seem pocket-size. When she'd commented on it once, he'd winked and told her that he liked pocket-size just fine.

  He worked in construction, and as a former military brat, he ran two miles every morning. Every inch of him was toned to muscle-rippling perfection, which was precisely why she felt so dowdy and fat standing next to him. She'd never been thin, but since having the baby, she just couldn't seem to shake the last fifteen pounds. She hated waking up and looking in the mirror lately. When she had to suck in to button her pre-pregnancy jeans, she couldn't help but tear up. Which was why every time Robert tried to touch her, she shied away. She could tolerate most anything—drunken sex, makeup sex, but not pity sex. That was where she drew the line.

  "Knock it off, Bruce!" Margo yelped, clawing her nails into his leg after a particularly hard swat.

  When he jerked her upright to face him, the sternness in his furrowed brow made her heart beat triple-time. "All right, Margo, you tell me: you broke the rules. What do you think your punishment should be?"

  Her lip quivered as she considered him, feeling more than a little sorry for herself. "I… well…"

  Sadie's eyes were glued to the page and her breath was coming in quick, small gasps as she waited to see what Margo would say.

  "Good book?"

  Her head snapped toward the sound of the voice, and she gasped when she saw Robert standing there. She shut the book hurriedly and practically threw it across the room. "What are you doing, just standing there? You scared me."

  His full lips curved into an amused smile. "You didn't answer my question. Is it a good book?"

  "It's fine," she answered tartly, pursing her lips.

  "Really?" Robert's eyes glittered at her. "It looked more than fine. You were pretty engrossed. You didn't even hear me come in."

  "You should make a noise or something," Sadie grumbled, looking away.

  "We should talk."

  Her eyes swung back to him, but she didn't say a word as he approached the bed and sat on the edge.

  "You've been different lately."

  "I have not—"

  "Please don't interrupt. I'm not finished."

  She arched a brow. It had been a long time since he'd spoken to her in that quiet, authoritative tone and her tummy flipped nervously out of habit. She dismissed it instantly. What did she have to be nervous about? She hadn't done anything wrong. Besides, it wasn't like he would actually do anything, even if she had.

  "Like I was saying, you've been acting differently lately. Ever since LJ got here, you seem… distant. I want to know what I can do to get us back on track."

  She snorted in reply. "I have not." The changes she'd felt, the shift in their relationship had occurred long before she'd had the baby. It had been a difficult pregnancy, and in his concern for her, he'd put a moratorium on sex and spanking. While she'd understood his caution and had even appreciated it in the beginning, their son was three months old and they'd had sex only a handful of times in the last six. Not to mention, domestic discipline had completely been off the table. She wouldn't have imagined how much she would miss it. She'd always thought of spanking as a precursor to the main event, but Robert used it for discipline and maintaining order in their home. It had given her a security that she didn't know she had until it was gone.

  "You have. I love you, Sadie. I just want to get us right again."

  "We're fine," she muttered, but the words lacked conviction and it was clear Robert saw it, too.

  "Don't you want to be happy again?"

  "Of course."

  He nodded, and rested his hand on her thigh. The simple contact made her skin tingle. "I didn't know you still read spanking novels."

  She sat up straight, shaking his hand off. "W-what?"

  "I said I didn't know you were still into spanki
ng books."

  "How do you…" She trailed off and swallowed hard, feeling heat flood into her cheeks. Busted.

  "We share an Amazon account. Remember?" He gave her a teasing grin that made her blush deepen.

  How could she have forgotten something so obvious? Probably because he never used it. He'd insisted she add him to the account so that he could monitor her spending, so if he'd logged in, it must have been with the purpose of seeing what she'd been buying. Did her failed attempt to purchase Caned for Her Crimes show up?

  "You've been spying on me!" she accused, narrowing her eyes. She was more embarrassed than angry, but there was no reason Robert had to know that.

  "I shouldn't have to do research on my own wife," he countered. "Why didn't you tell me you missed domestic discipline?"

  "When did I say I miss it?" she snapped.

  "You didn't, I guess I assumed, based on your choice of reading material."

  "Well, you know what they say about assuming."

  His eyebrows knitted together and his mouth turned downward. "Sarah Marie."

  It had been a long, long time since he'd called her by her full name—since he'd said it in that one more misstep voice that told her she was on thin ice. Her pulse picked up and her belly knotted in nervous anticipation. An apology leapt to her lips, but she swallowed it back. She'd show him she wasn't scared. She'd show him what she thought of his idle threats. "Robert Patrick," she retorted, mimicking his stern expression.

  "Young lady!" he barked, his nostrils flaring.

  Her heart leapt into her throat. Suddenly, it didn't seem like he was playing and pushing him no longer seemed very wise. Still, even with her insides all knotted up in trepidation, she couldn't help but notice how hot Robert was. His blue eyes were bright and his jaw clenched—it was a sight that used to be all too familiar, and her body reacted as if it had never forgotten. Her bottom began to tingle, as if in preparation of what was to come and her fight or flight instinct began to rev up. She was leaning heavily toward flight, at the moment. Assuming she was given the chance.