Chapter 1
The end of August
“Are you sure I can’t walk you out to your car?”
Leslie Collins smiled at her fellow teacher as the rest of their group said their goodbyes. Shaking her head, she wished she could return the interest in Alan Colwich’s hazel eyes, but where had wishing ever gotten her? “Thanks, Alan, but I’ve already ordered another drink. You go on and I’ll see you Monday.” She prayed he wouldn’t insist on staying until she was ready to leave the club. As much as she dreaded returning to her apartment to spend another night, and weekend alone, it would be worse if he asked her out again or she had to sit here for another hour making small talk while trying not to notice his ‘puppy dog’ looks.
Alan hesitated and Leslie held her breath until he nodded and stood. “If you’re sure then I’ll head out. See you Monday.” After dropping a tip on the table, he waved and she breathed a sigh of relief watching him wind his way through the tables in the dim interior.
A heavy weight of despair pressed against her chest. Doing the right thing almost four years ago had cost her everything and left her future in limbo. She’d been coping with her distraught circumstances fairly well until recently. Her mind drifted to another club, one where she’d discovered a satisfying distraction that helped her get through the long, lonely days and even longer, lonelier nights, or so she’d thought. Tomorrow would mark the third Saturday she wouldn’t make the thirty-minute drive from Billings to the private BDSM club, The Barn, and she missed what she’d found there.
“Thank you.” Leslie smiled at the young waitress who delivered her gin and tonic, remembering her stint serving drinks as she’d worked her way through college.
Too bad her higher education hadn’t offered a class on how to cope after testifying in a murder case where the defendant’s father vowed retribution. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time sucked. She’d tried to keep from forming close friendships with her co-workers and the club members at The Barn, knowing a relationship of any kind could have no future and might even put someone else at risk if her identity in the witness protection program were discovered.
Keeping herself isolated had been the hardest part about accepting her fate when the threats against her had escalated to a drive by shooting at her house. She’d been enjoying a friendly visit from the older widower next door when he’d opened her front door just as several bullets pelted the front porch. He’d recovered from a shoulder wound, but the incident scared her enough to convince her to accept the offer of relocation.
Leslie sipped her drink as she gazed around the quiet bar, the low hum of conversation and faint music strains reaching her secluded corner table. With the exception of the lone, dark haired man with broad shoulders seated at the bar, everyone had someone to spend the Friday night with, maybe even the weekend or longer. God, she missed the nights at The Barn, the relief from the stress and despondency of her solitary life she could attain by indulging in a long scene with an attentive Dom. The limited relationships with both the Masters and the other submissive members had been enough to sustain her since joining the private club three years ago, but that was before witnessing the blissful happiness of several members committing to the one person who could fulfill all their needs.
No, Leslie thought, taking another long drink, it was easier to stay away than return and spend an evening pretending she was happy for those who were free to enjoy everything life, and the right person had to offer. The Doms she’d scened with were good to her, but not one ever looked at her the way the newly committed Masters gazed at their wives. The hardest relationship to accept had been Nan’s recent commitment to Master Dan, the two long-time members and friends having made that choice a week or two before she’d stopped attending. To make matters even worse, she couldn’t risk a casual night of sex with a friend like Alan without getting his hopes up that it would lead to something more, and she refused to use him that way.
Leslie should have known by now wallowing in self-pity never helped. She took a moment to eye the man at the bar again, this time catching a glimpse of his rugged profile beneath the black Stetson, a straight nose and the sardonic curl of one side of his mouth as a young woman approached him. His reply to whatever come-on she whispered in his ear sent her trouncing off in a huff. Leslie wondered how low her spirits would have to sink before she approached a stranger with a needy proposition. Maybe, if one look stirred her juices the same as eying that man, she wouldn’t mind the rash, desperate act so much. If nothing else, a night indulging in sex with a stranger would alleviate the loneliness for a short time, give her something else to think about.
By the time she downed two more drinks, stood to leave and the room spun around her, she realized she should have paid more attention to her alcohol intake. I can do this as long as I go slow. Since she wasn’t about to call one of her co-workers to drive her the few blocks back home, she forced herself to walk a straight path toward the door. She made it with only one stumble and as she breathed in the warm summer air, her woozy senses calmed a bit.
At least, Leslie thought her head had cleared enough to drive until she teetered through the well-lit parking lot in search of her car and rammed her hip into the bumper of a massive pickup truck. Swearing under her breath, she pushed away and wobbled toward the sidewalk she could follow straight to her apartment door. With her inebriated head bemoaning the return to her lonely apartment she never heard or saw the punk purse snatcher sneak up behind her until he tried pulling her bag from her grasp.
“Hey!” she cried out with a desperate tug to keep hold of her purse. “Leave me alone!” Tears welled as frustration over everything shook her.
The kid, who looked all of sixteen, took umbrage of Leslie daring to fight back and stunned her further with a back-handed swing that landed her on the concrete with a jarring thud and red-hot pain blossoming across her cheek. Reeling from both the dizzying fall and the blow, she had to blink several times and shake her head to make sense of the angry shout and large man now grappling with her assailant. Big men wearing cowboy hats, denim and boots were a dime a dozen in Montana, but no one had ever come to her rescue before. Her aching heart rolled over in appreciation
even before he turned concerned eyes on her as the wily teenager broke from his hold, giving up her purse before taking off.
“Fucking kid,” he swore, squatting down in front of her. His rough voice sent tingles of awareness dancing down her spine, the intent look in his dark eyes reminding her of the observant gazes of the Doms at the club. He thumbed his hat back far enough for her to make out his rugged features and the dark shadow of his five o’clock beard in the meager amber glow of the streetlight and realize he was the same man she had ogled in the bar. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“I, yes, I think so.” He helped Leslie up and the street whipped around her in staggering circles. “Whoa,” she gasped, grabbing onto his thick forearm, the muscles rippling under her hands as he wrapped his other arm around her waist.
“This is where too much alcohol will land you. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
His firm, no-nonsense tone calmed Leslie’s racing heartbeat even if she didn’t care for his lecture any more than she wanted to spend another long night alone. God, it felt good to lean on someone for a change, not to mention the warm rush spreading through her body from his firm hold and take-charge manner. She must be either really drunk or really desperate for relief if a stranger’s kindness was tugging on her neglected needs as a sexual submissive.
“My car’s in the parking lot behind us and I live just a few blocks away.” Whether because of the scare she’d just experienced or from her self-pitying melancholy mood of late, she didn’t want him to walk away yet. If that made her a pathetic mess, she didn’t care and relief swept through her shaken body when he tightened his arm around her waist.
“I can’t let you drive in your condition.” He ran calloused fingertips over her puffy cheek, a light caress she felt clear to her toes. “You need something on this, and learning to duck wouldn’t hurt. I’ll give you two choices. Call a friend to come get you or let me take you home. We can return to the bar and let the bartender know where you’re going and with whom, to ease your mind. I’d say you need to report this, but the odds of finding that kid aren’t likely.”
Leslie didn’t hear much after he offered to see her home. Was it stupid to let a stranger know where she lived? Oh, yeah, but not as dumb as wishing he would stay and exert some of that commanding attitude in a different way. She craved a distraction from her isolated life and the bleak future looming ahead of her, and spending more time with this panty-dampening stranger worked for her.
“I think,” she whispered, swaying closer to that rock-hard body, “I can trust someone who was nice enough to come to my rescue.”
He shook his head, his mouth turning down in a frown that drew a shiver. “We will go talk to the bartender and then I’ll drive you home. You’ve had too much to drink to make a rational decision.”
“How do you know how much I drank tonight?” she grumbled, stumbling alongside him as he steered her toward the bar.