She watched him for so long, he was just starting to wonder if she’d welcome it if he went inside right now, walked up the stairs to her room, and knocked on her door.
Thank God she ducked back out of sight when she did. It was the only reason he’d stayed out in the snow and cold, cutting wood with all the dogged determination of a man unwilling to let his penis make his next decision for him.
This was ridiculous. She was only looking at him because all this was unusual. She was his neighbor. He’d given her a bed for the night, a warm, safe place to sleep because her own home wasn’t yet ready for occupation. That would change. And when it did, the situation would revert back to what it was obviously destined to be—her in one house, him in the other. Who knew, perhaps living next door would give him enough time to build a proper relationship with her.
Who knew, maybe in a week or two, he’d walk over to her door and ask her out on a date. A real date. Complete with a goodnight kiss he could already taste.
The water department showed up just before the power company was ready to leave, then the local truck repair crew. Four guys in two other pickups loaded down with tires turned her front yard into a muddy mess as they changed the moving truck’s flat tires. Once it was ready to move, they left, taking the moving truck with them. The only people he didn’t see pay her a much-needed visit was the gas company.
Living in a very small town was both a curse and a benefit. Fortunately for this town, the gas company actually had one of their county offices on Main Street. The curse was, being a county-wide company, one sometimes had to wait for service. One of the best benefits was being able to call in and get information on just about anyone. For instance, after both the water and electric repair crews had gone, he cut wood until her bin was full and he had a decent-sized stash pile stacked up hip high against the cabin that ran the length of the entire side porch. Checking the time—just after one—he then called the gas company himself.
“Can you tell me when you’ll be able to get the gas connected at Maggie’s cabin rental over on Potpourri Drive?” he asked the clerk who answered the phone.
“Uh, yeah.” She was quiet apart from the clicking of keyboard keys. “Looks like... yup, Monday.”
“Is there any way to hurry that up? Stace is a single mom with a baby around a year old, and without gas they have no heat, hot water or stove to cook on.”
“What are you doing?” Stace asked. She must have heard his conversation through the living room window. She came out onto the porch, fingers already tapping and with a concerned look on her face. Her shirt was straightened and her breast once more covered.
More’s the pity.
“I can try,” the clerk hedged. “But I doubt it. Some guy tried to dig his own root cellar and took out the main pipe feeding his entire street. His whole neighborhood will be going the weekend without hot water and hot dinners too, so the boss made it a priority. I could ask him...”
“Nope,” Brock said, giving his head a shake which the clerk couldn’t see, but which had Stace twisting her fingers again as she tried to listen in. “I’ll keep ‘em at my house until you get that mess fixed first.”
“Sorry,” she said cheerfully.
“No problem at all.”
He hung up, then stood there looking at the dark screen. Finally, when he was sure he knew the answer already, he asked, “Did you know your gas wasn’t going to get connected until Monday?”
Slowly, she backed up one porch step. “Yes,” she reluctantly admitted.
“And yet, you let me believe everything would be fully functional by the end of today.”
“I told you I could do it mysel—” She broke off with a squeak when he, ignoring the porch steps behind him, hopped over the rail and headed for the separated front porch steps instead. Sheran for the house, barely reaching it ahead of him and the swift long-legged strides taking him right to her.
“Stop right where you are,” he ordered, but it was too much to hope that she’d mind him. After all, he wasn’t her Daddy and she wasn’t his Little, and he had no business taking his coat off as he caught the door before she could slam and lock it. He had even less business, forcing his way into her house, while she babbled, “Are you mad at me? Please don’t be mad at me. Why are you rolling up your sleeve? Please don’t spank me.”
He rolled his sleeves up past both elbows, baring his brawny forearms to her wide-eyed horror.
Stace thrust out both hands to stop him, but he caught her by the wrist anyway. Twirling her around, she stuck her other hand behind her, covering her bottom palm up and fingers desperately splayed to protect as much as she could.
“Move your hand,” he said mildly.
“Please don’t spank me!”
The sharp claps of his hand as he swatted the backs of each thigh were drowned out beneath her shrill cry. She hopped, dancing on tiptoes as she pulled at her captured wrist, trying to twist away. She just couldn’t pull hard enough to keep him from dragging her in closer to his big body, and all the while the hard and calloused flat of his big hand continued whacking away at the very tender underside of her bottom.
“Move your hand or I take off my belt,” he said again.
Bouncing on her toes still, she wilted, first in her shoulders and then, grudgingly lowered herself down onto her flat feet. Sniffling, she moved her hand away from her bottom.
It was hard to be upset when she looked so adorably dismayed.
“I’m very disappointed that you would not only conceal that from me, but that you would bring your baby back into this house—” Drawing back his hand, he gave her a single swat, but hard enough to make sure it counted. Her hips jolted atthe impact, and back up onto her tiptoes she went. “—knowing it wouldn’t be ready—” SMACK! He spanked her with the full strength of his arm. “—and lying to me—”
She yelped when he swatted her again, hitting the full center of her buttocks with all his might. Her free hand flew out, as if she were fighting herself not to cover her bottom, and yet unable to keep from reacting as the hurt of his swats chewed into her.
