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  Michelle apparently connected that dot, too. “I’m sorry, honey. Do your parents know you moved back yet?”

  “Nope.” Jess forced a smile. “Trying to avoid that conversation for as long as possible.”

  “They’re still not very parental, I take it?”

  She snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “I’m glad you’ve moved back. I didn’t like that guy, Brad. Sorry I didn’t speak my mind earlier.”

  “Feel free next time to tell me you hate a guy. It will save me some grief.” Jess told her about the rest stop incident. “At least now I’ll have Stanley as backup.”

  “He’s a good boy.” He’d joined them at the table and was sitting with his head in Michelle’s lap while her two mini Doxies looked on. “Aren’t you?”

  His tail slowly waved in contentment.

  They heard the front door open. “Anyone home?” Kel called out.

  “In here, sweetie,” Michelle called back.

  He walked into the kitchen and Jess was once again struck by how aged he looked. She stood to hug him. “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” he quietly said. “I hate having to leave her there, and the care team meetings wear me out.”

  “Sorry.”

  Michelle grabbed the food out of the oven, where she’d had the serving dishes stashed to keep everything warm. “Well, let’s eat, and you can tell us about it.”

  “They tried changing out her meds last week, but it caused a swing into some manic behavior.” He took a piece of meatloaf. “And now, of course, the rebound effect on Mal is she feels like it’s her fault, even though it’s not.”

  “Why does she feel like that?” Jess asked.

  “She thinks something’s ‘wrong’ with her body, which of course is part of everything we’re dealing with right now. It’s a disordered thought pattern that they’re trying to work through and help her get past. Part of it’s biochemical in origin, and part of it’s emotional. She blames herself for losing the baby, she blamed herself for being overweight, she blames herself for being underweight and having an eating disorder—and it didn’t help the first stupid counsellor who worked with her was anti-BDSM and tried to convince her I was abusing her.”

  Jess froze and allowed her gaze to drift toward Michelle.

  She smiled. “I know about their relationship,” Michelle assured her. “It’s all right. He told me, and Mal told me.”

  “Whew.”

  “I’d love to punch her fucking uncle in the face,” Kel grumbled. “The mindfucks he played on her all those years did not help.”

  “What happened?”

  “Long story.” He started telling it, and by the time he finished, Jess almost—but not quite—felt marginally better that her family wasn’t the only one FUBARed.

  “So once they get her meds sorted out,” he finished, “hopefully Mal will feel like she’s on a more even keel and then can make progress on her recovery.”

  Jess hoped it didn’t make her a shit for mentally noting she needed to find a low-cost clinic or something in Sarasota and get a new prescription for birth control pills. Not that she even had a boyfriend right now, but she damn sure didn’t want a baby at this point in her life. Not when she thought about her own troubled childhood. Could she say she was any more secure in her mental footing than Mal was?

  Nope.

  “So how’d the talk with Mark, Josh, and Ted go?” Kel asked.

  “Great! I have a job, starting tomorrow, actually.” It felt good to lighten the mood of the conversation with her life’s upswing.

  “I knew that’d be a good fit for you,” Kel said. “And they’re in the lifestyle. So you won’t have to make excuses to them if you need time off for a photo shoot or something. Oh, that reminds me.”

  He dug into his pocket, withdrew a key, and handed it to her. “That’s for the club. I told Derrick and Marcia I wanted to give you one since you’re living at the apartment. Feel free to use it during off hours for shoots.”

  “Wow. Thanks.” She tucked it into her pocket. “No alarm system?”

  “No, not worth the aggravation for one right now. If we add too many more people to the key list, though, I might get one so we can keep track of who’s coming and going. For now, just shoot me a text when you need to use it.”

  “I’m probably not going to do a lot of photography right now.”

  “Tomorrow night’s a rope night.” The teasing, tempting tone he used reminded her of their childhood when he was always eager to get them into the innocent kind of trouble.

  “I don’t even know how long I’ll be at the job site tomorrow. And I’ll want to get to bed early because we’re working through the weekend.”

  “What about the munch Sunday?”

  “I’ll think about it. Depends on how I feel.”

  He offered up a smile. “Sounds like you’re making excuses to not get out and see people.”

  “You’re not exactly right, but you’re not exactly wrong, either. I shouldn’t have let Brad drag me to Texas. Right now, I have a really great chance to finally get ahead for the first time in years, and it only took a massive loss for me pull my shit together.”

  “I wish you’d said something to me sooner,” Kel said. “I would have loaned you the money to move back.”

  “You know me, I don’t like handouts. I’m no mooch.”

  “That’s not being a mooch,” Michelle said. “That’s asking family for help. You know I consider you family. And Kel’s absolutely right. You’re just being stubborn for no good reason.”

  “Old habits die hard,” she said. Besides, she’d had a childhood of asking for help being met with ridicule. The lesson was permanently etched into her soul.

  She took a deep breath. “I’ll try to make the munch Sunday. But if they have me working, I’m not going to ditch that.”

  “Considering they marked themselves as going,” Kel said, “I’m sure that you’ll probably get out in time.”

  “Oh.” It would be weird having employers she didn’t have to worry about finding out she was kinky, much less the photography part of her life.

  “Yeah, oh.” He reached over and playfully poked her in the shoulder, the first time the hint of a genuine smile finally reached his eyes since he’d arrived. “You’re back in the fold, girl. Welcome home.”

  “It’s damn good to be here, believe me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Friday morning, Jess felt like she’d been thrown into the deep end of a swimming pool and had to paddle like a motherfucker to stay afloat.

  And she loved every second of it.

  She’d caught a ride with Josh and Ted from their house. Mark had left an hour earlier, wanting to meet the film crew at the job site and show them where to set up so they could film the day as everyone else arrived. Plus he’d towed a large trailer with their supplies in it, so they’d be ready to start on time. Yesterday, while she was at their office, Mark had given Jess seven T-shirts with their logo on them for her to wear while working, and had told her to wear jeans and sneakers or work boots, which she luckily had.

  Ted was driving their crew cab truck and she rode in the backseat. Josh handed her a tablet over the seat. “Here’s the project list for this job for you to look at. If this works out, we’ll be getting you your own phone and tablet, because you’ll need them. Ideally, we’d like to get you to the point you can meet with clients without us for the initial evaluation and quote process. That’ll take a while to learn, but just to let you know we’d like to have you onboard for the long-term, if it works out for you.”

  “Thanks.” She hadn’t used this software app before, but it was pretty self-explanatory. There were all sorts of things she never thought about in terms of setting up one of these events, from making sure they had all the cleaning supplies they’d need, to arranging Dumpsters, to organizing the actual work crew and designating tasks, the site organization as far as the sorting tents and staging areas—then add a film cre
w to that and it was crazy.

  The film producer was a guy named Purson Gibraltar she now recognized from TV, but a different show. A ghost-hunting show, she thought. Brown hair, piercing blue eyes, broad shoulders and a playful smile. He wore an unusual bloodstone amulet around his neck and seemed to peer deep into her soul when they shook hands.

  “Hi.” She blinked, realizing her mind had almost gone blank picturing herself in bed with him. Stupid! Don’t be an idiot. You’re working.

  “Don’t snipe her from us, Purs,” Ted playfully warned. “We literally just hired her yesterday.”

  “Can’t hurt to flirt a little if a single lady is willing to be flirted with.” He flashed her another smile. “You don’t mind, do you?” Normally, she would have taken umbrage with the guy over that, but there was just something about him…

  Josh cleared his throat. “I need to show her around, Purs. Flirt on your lunch hour.”

  Purs winked but finally released her hand, and she realized for the first time since ditching Brad that she really wanted to get laid.

  Holy cow.

  No, not with Purs. That was too close to work, even if they weren’t employed by the same company. He was definitely a hunk, and she sensed a deep Dominant streak in him based on how he handled his crew, but no.

  She started to wonder how Purs knew she was single, but then her attention was pulled in twenty different directions and she dropped that line of thought to focus on her job.

  It was controlled chaos, but made for good filming, apparently. The wife was a hoarder and her husband had basically given her an ultimatum, it was her junk or him. They’d been married nearly thirty years. She was fifty-one and he was fifty-three, and she loved to spend her weekends going to yard sales.

  Unfortunately, there was no rhyme or reason to her collection, and it was now a fire hazard in their home. The kitchen wasn’t even usable, except for the sink, fridge, and microwave. And you couldn’t even open the fridge door all the way. A warren of rabbit trails led through the ceiling-high mountains of clutter inside.

  Their son had left for college nine years ago, and that’s when her slightly cluttered but totally tolerable habits had…exploded.

  He’d tried cleaning out the house when she wasn’t home, but she’d bring more in. He tried cutting off her access to their bank accounts and giving her an allowance, but she’d use money she should have used for groceries or gas for her car and still go, or even Dumpster dive or grab stuff put out for trash.

  Jess shadowed Mark mostly, and stood quietly by while they filmed Ted talking with the woman as he gently tried to coax her to find one thing she could let go of to start the process.

  Jess wasn’t wearing a mic today, and for that she was extremely glad. She found herself sniffling as the woman broke down sobbing, her husband angrily storming off when she wouldn’t throw away an empty egg carton he’d pointed out in the kitchen.

  Wow.

  Yeah, her childhood had been shitty, but at least she hadn’t grown up like this. If anything, her mom had been a neat freak and had drilled decluttering into her. Which, ironically, had come in handy when she’d had to leave Brad, and then again when she’d evacuated to Brenda’s.

  By lunch break, the husband had returned, the wife had finally allowed the work crew to start emptying the kitchen into a staging area for her to sort through, and Purson’s playful flirting had her panties soaked.

  Which was okay, because she was soaked with sweat anyway from the hot and muggy day. Everyone was. They had one canopy tent set up for the workers to cool off in, with mister fans and coolers of bottled water.

  It was almost eight that night when they finally returned to the men’s house. Essie insisted Jess sit down and have dinner with them before letting her and a very happy Stanley leave for the evening. Jess didn’t even mind when Stanley insisted on accompanying her to the bathroom and sitting there, watching her as she soaked her aching muscles in the tub. Next door, she could occasionally hear a noise, but knew it was just the Friday night rope group.

  A twinge of regret filled her that she had to miss it tonight. Except she’d have to get up early in the morning and do it all over again, but now she knew what to expect.

  Maybe next time.

  Unfortunately, she was too tired to even think about masturbating to thoughts of Purson’s striking blue gaze or all the playful comments that…

  Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t recall anything specific he’d said, just that it’d been fun to be the focus of someone’s innocent and playful attention for a change. Certainly an ego boost.

  She wasn’t complaining. For the first time in her adult life, she finally felt like she’d dropped perfectly into where she should be.

  That was a great feeling.

  * * * *

  Over the next week and a half leading up to their Friday rope night, not only did Tris and Kyle discover their libidos had suddenly kicked it into overdrive, but they also discovered it didn’t matter that they were both Doms.

  All that mattered was they had fun and were enjoying the hell out of this new aspect of their relationship.

  They’d also swapped out the beds between the bedrooms, Kyle’s bed in Tristan’s bedroom.

  Now their bedroom.

  Tristan wasn’t sure if it was great or terrifying that he quickly grew to seek out Kyle in their bed at night if they rolled away from each other. For the first time in a long time, they both had someone reliable to share a bed with.

  That was amazing and not something they took for granted, either of them.

  Tristan didn’t even mind Kyle’s alarm going off early. Especially when he’d set it for an extra fifteen minutes early, and would give Tristan a go-back-to-sleep morning blowjob before climbing out of bed.

  Tonight they would run their first Knotty Fun rope group as a couple. It wasn’t uncommon for people to erroneously assume the two of them were “partners” because of their rapport and that they usually rode together to the events.

  Tristan never made a big deal about it in the past, and neither had Kyle. Mostly because the assumption had never bothered them. Even when they hadn’t been an “item,” they’d been okay with people thinking they were boyfriends. Especially if the woman making the assumption was someone they weren’t attracted to as more than anything but a friend.

  Tonight Tristan drove, because it was his turn.

  And because Tristan knew if he wasn’t driving, he’d be too tempted to tease Kyle all the way over to the club. Which would lead to the sadist teasing him all through the rope night, and might lead to them locking themselves in the bathroom and violating a club rule prohibiting sex.

  And that would be bad.

  It was Cali, Sean, and Max’s weekend to run the club. She was already there when they pulled into the parking lot, but it looked like she was alone.

  “Where’s your guys?” Tristan asked when they returned to the office to sign in after first dumping their rope bags under the large A-frame on the old side.

  “They walked across the street to get us some subs. Eh, sandwiches.”

  They all laughed.

  It was Kyle’s turn to pay tonight. Even though they’d told the men that, since they were running the group, they could enter for free, the men still wanted to support the club. Tristan got them signed in, and that’s when it hit Tris, apparently the same time it hit Kyle.

  They stared at each other and started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Cali asked.

  Kyle leaned in and kissed him. “You just thought what I thought, didn’t you?”

  “That we’re already acting like a married couple and have been for a while? Yep.”

  Cali’s eyebrows shot up as she smiled. “Married?”

  “Not yet,” Kyle said. “But we decided we’re better off putting up with each other as more than friends.”

  She grinned. “Congrats! I wondered how long it’d take you two idiots to figure it out.”

 
; “Huh?” he and Kyle said.

  “Oh, come on. The Frightful Five has had a running pool about how long until you two finally came to your senses and realized how perfect you are for each other. I think Eliza had the closest bet. Hmm. I’ll have to call them and let them know.”

  “Seriously?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah. You didn’t think it was strange they never paired anyone with you guys?”

  “Huh.” Tristan held out his wrist for a wristband. “Glad we finally got the message.”

  Kyle snickered. “You ain’t kiddin’.”

  They returned to the dungeon and started preparing. The first attendees soon arrived, including Boyd Nyberg.

  Tristan had always wondered if Boyd would make a move on Kyle before he could. Personally, Tristan liked the guy. Boyd was a genuinely nice guy, good-looking, too, with his blond hair and his blue eyes a darker shade than Kyle’s. But Tristan just wasn’t attracted to Boyd like that. Friends only.

  Probably because he could always see Boyd had a thing for Kyle, which was maybe why Tristan never felt the urge to approach Boyd and ask him out.

  He’d always wanted Kyle to himself. He knew it was weird he could see him and Kyle one day sharing a woman, but didn’t want any other men in the mix.

  Is it wrong of me to feel satisfaction that I snagged Kyle before Boyd did?

  Because, honestly? It would have pissed Tristan off if he’d missed out on Kyle just because Boyd had bigger balls and took the risk first.

  Yeah, he was feeling a tiny bit eat your heart out over the whole situation.

  Not that he wished Boyd ill will or anything. On the contrary, Boyd was a great guy. Nice guy. He hoped that Boyd found a guy for him.

  Maybe that was the problem, that Boyd was just a little too nice. A little too oh, yah, you betcha for Tristan’s tastes. Tris needed an edge to his partner.

  Raw.

  Dirty.

  Not afraid to take what he wanted, when he wanted it.

  Just like Kyle.

  There was also an irony that single women nearly creamed themselves over that same niceness when working with Boyd on rope nights, or during open play sessions, practically throwing themselves at him until they found out Boyd was gay.