“Well, if this is a safe space, sure. Why not?” He focused on me. “I’m attracted to smart, funny, independent women. But I can’t stand doormats. Yet, I’ve realized that I need a woman who is kinky, at least a little bit, and willing to submit to me in our relationship.”
Okay, so belay that order for a hell-hole. “What?” I asked.
Lilah’s gaze narrowed even more as she nodded. “Uh-huh. Looking for a slave?”
“No,” he said. “On the contrary. Finding a woman who wants to be submissive to me but doesn’t want me to micromanage her entire life, or something like that, who also shares my interests, isn’t exactly easy in this part of the country. I’m not a religious guy, so I’m not looking for a woman whose idea of getting on her knees and saying, ‘oh, god!’ involves praying and not blowjobs.”
Lilah snorted. “Gotta say, Em, I’mreallyliking him.” She slapped the table and stood. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk for a while.”
Still mortified, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to say and found it difficult to meet his gaze. His eyes were grey-blue and he stood around 6’2”, shortish light brown hair with a flat-top I bet would feel yummy running my hand across.
“I see I’m not kicked out,” he quietly said. “And you don’t seem disgusted or frightened.”
I slowly shook my head. “No. Although hang close, because you’ll have to resuscitate Lilah after I finish strangling her when you leave.”
He smiled. “Look, we just met. We both have stressful jobs. I’m guessing from the fact that you aren’t freaking out about my admission means we have at least some interests in common?”
I took a deep breath. “Maybe,” I admitted.
That was the first time I’d actually admitted it to someone besides Lilah.
“How about this,” he said. “I’m having fun getting to know you both, and I don’t think I’m going out on a limb to say that you’re a package deal. If she doesn’t like me, or I can’t get along with her, it’s a non-starter no matter how well you and I click together. Right?”
I nodded. That was a source of friction with Joe, too. He’d tolerated Lilah, and she—bless her heart—tolerated him. She’d never been openly hostile to him. Not around me, at least. Although I could tell he wasn’t her favorite person and he hadn’t said anything about not living with her until that night.
“Instead of worrying about if you and I are compatible,” he continued, “how about we just focus on friendship? I swear I’m not one of those guys who gets pissed off being in the friend-zone, either. There’s nothing wrong with being friends. If we get to know each other better and decide we want to go on a date-date, okay. If not?” He hooked his thumb toward the kitchen doorway where Lilah had departed. “I wouldn’t mind being friends still if it means she can teach me how to cook like this. Because,damn. I’d finally be able to hold my own down at the station when it’s my turn to cook.”
I liked his smile and I found myself smiling with him. “No pressure?” I asked.
“No pressure. And if you feel pressure from me, feel free to tell me to fuck off.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. Deal.”
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Lilah called from the living room, where she’d obviously listened to every word.
I growled in frustration but Jack smiled again. “I’m off tomorrow night,” he called back while still meeting my gaze. “Would you two like to come over to my place, or do you have a propane grill here I can use for the ribs?”
She appeared in the doorway. “Your place,” she said after sticking her tongue out at me from behind his back. “Want to see if you can hit the toilet or not.”
I buried my face in my hands. “Jesusfuckingchrist.”
Chapter Four
Jack
Four weeks into whatever this was between us and I had to admit I was having the time of my life. It was refreshing to have open conversations with the women. Now that Lilah had eased up, I realized part of her crunchy exterior was firmly rooted in her love for and protectiveness of Emmy. I also learned they weren’t technically sisters, although I didn’t pry for details because I sensed their shared childhoods weren’t happy stories.
Emmy and I were texting now, and I’d even dropped a “good girl” on her when I took her out to dinner a few nights earlier—without Lilah, who had to work but gave us her blessings to go—and loved the smile and pink cheeks that earned me.
I would take this slowly. I saw no warning signs, but while we’d had basic conversations about kinky topics, we hadn’t delved deeply into it. Mostly because I wanted to honor my promise about not being “that dude” and pushing the boundaries of the friend-zone I’d put myself into with Emmy.
Yet, I also noticed little signs of Emmy starting to close the natural gap between us. Things like her good-night hugs turning longer, her kissing my cheek, snuggling against me on the couchwhen we watched TV and encouraging me to put my arm around her.
And everything was progressing at what I thought was a pleasant and no-stress pace when everything went to shit.
I was working a wildfire that broke out near the interstate, with strong winds whipping it up and quickly overwhelming the Forestry crew fighting it. To the point that they’d had to close the highway, backing traffic up for miles. And we were receiving radio reports of embers blowing toward town, sparking smaller fires other crews were having difficulty keeping up with, including a few structure fires.
It was near dusk and I’d been on the line over twelve hours at that point, on duty over thirty-six hours, when a state trooper walked up to where I was sucking down water near one of the trucks. “Hesten?”
