Page 14 of Ask Me Something

Chapter Four

While waiting at the airport for my flight home the next morning, I kept replaying the previous night over in my mind. But instead of feeling panicked, I was disappointed that I’d been left with no more than a scorching kiss.

Taking out my phone, I quickly texted Brian a question I couldn’t shake.

“You and I both know I’d be terrible at being submissive. Why me?”

After arriving at my parents’ house and while sitting in the driveway, I read his response for the third time.

“You’re dominant in all things. Doesn’t it get tiring? Don’t you want to let go and have someone else take over and call the shots in one aspect of your life?”

Curious, I had to ask, “What kinds of things are we talking about? Furry cuffs and sex toys or like hardcore whips and chains? Details please.”

I was surprised when his reply came quickly.

“No details until you agree. But in answer to your questions, I’m not into whips and chains. Furry cuffs are a bit cheesy. And YES to the other.”

Realizing what the other referred to, I blushed hotly. Jesus, he capitalized YES to sex toys. I was having a hard time picturing a man I’d known all these years, who I called a friend, colleague, and now boss, being into these types of things. You think you know someone. I’d always pictured he’d be sort of clumsy and goofy in bed. The type of sexual partner who’d make me laugh and be comfortable to be around but who wasn’t going to make me burn with desire. And now I was aroused beyond belief merely over text messages. His next one came in before I could respond to the last.

“How’s the head? And how was the flight?”

Normal conversation. Okay, I could do that. “Head is all right, although I had to take some Tylenol to get it there. Flight was good. I’m about to go into the house, but I’ll talk to you later. Safe travels to Virginia.”

* * *

I appreciatedthe fact that I was able to spend the holidays with loved ones, but my home town of Beaufort, North Carolina was a reminder of the most traumatic event I’d ever experienced. I’d always felt like a piece of me was missing while growing up, but never understood why until the year I turned sixteen and discovered I was adopted. My life as I knew it changed drastically. It didn’t help that since my father had been the Chief of Police for many years, I couldn’t go one foot into town without running into someone who knew me and what had happened. Small towns. Gotta love them.

Breathing deep, I focused on the good memories. I loved the beauty of my childhood home with its historic tall ceilings and wooden floors built over a hundred years ago.

My younger sister and her family lived on the other side of town. This was probably a good thing at the moment because being under the same roof with four children would only emphasize my slight hangover.

It had been a few months since my last visit. My sister had delivered baby number four. As with the prior three, I’d made sure I went to the hospital, gave a lavish gift, and picked up a meal from the local restaurant for their first night home. I may not be very good with babies, cooking, or all the other domestic stuff, but I was a kick-ass big sister in ensuring I was home for the births of my nieces and nephews.

“Hi, Daddy.” I embraced my big bear of a dad after walking in the front door. My father might not share my blood, but I was hard pressed ever to think of him as anything other than my dad. He’d retired from a career in law enforcement two years ago. I knew that most found his six-foot-four-inch stature and big barrel chest intimidating, but to me he’d always been a big teddy bear. He was a true Southern gentleman. Although he didn’t typically have much to say, people listened when he did speak. His hair got a little grayer and thinner each time I came home, but to me he was perfect.

“Hi, sweetheart. How was your flight?” he asked.

“Oh, it was fi—, I mean, good, thanks.” I smiled. Brian had turned me off of the word fine. “Hi, Momma.”

My mother came into the foyer and hugged me too. She wore an apron over her sweater and pants, showing the evidence that she’d been hard at work in the kitchen. My mom might be sixty, but she could easily pass for ten years younger, with hardly a gray hair on her head or a wrinkle on her face. She might have gained a little weight in the last couple of years, but in true Norwegian heritage style, she wore the curves impeccably.

“Sweetie, look at you, you’re wasting away.” Leave it to my mom to always think I’d lost weight as an excuse to push butter-laden food on me for the next few days. I knew she loved me like I’d been her own from birth and that keeping me fed was her way of letting me know how much she missed taking care of me.

After making my way up the stairs to my childhood room, I put down my bags and took a moment to fight the disquiet over being in this space. Then I thought of Haylee who had lost her father a few years ago and her mother last year, and I felt appreciation for having a family to come home to over the holidays.

I went downstairs and hugged my mom again.

“Now, then, what’s this?” she asked, turning and touching my chin. I was thirty-two years old, but she had a way of making me feel fourteen again.

“I love you, Mom,” I responded thickly.

“I love you, too. Everything all right? Any new men in your life?”

I tried not to roll my eyes at the question. In my town, most people were interested in my love life or lack thereof. At church tonight I would have that question asked at least a half-dozen more times. “Everything is good, and nothing to talk about in the other department.”

I nipped a piece of bacon that would go into some sort of side dish tomorrow and got ready to help with the preparations. Cooking wasn’t my forte, but it wasn’t that hard to chop or mix something, and I was certainly capable of washing dishes. Being in the kitchen, especially during the holidays, was a requirement for any Southern woman.

“Well, I know I don’t say this enough, but you know I’m real proud of you, don’t you, Sasha Jayne?” She had turned and was studying me, her eyes reflecting her words.

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