Page 22 of Snow Bound

“Well?” Grant prompted.

Michael sighed. “You’re putting me in a tough spot, Grant. I don’t talk about club members.”

Grant resisted the urge to remind him that Anna wasn’t a member any longer. “I have a play date with her tonight,” he said, cutting right to the chase.

“Congratulations.”

“Take the stick out of your ass,” Grant advised bluntly. “I’m not asking for state secrets, here. I just want to know what her experience at Odyssey was like.”

“Dick,” Michael accused, but it was said with a sigh, and Grant knew he was relenting. “She mostly hung around and watched, but she had a few scenes. Brad Shelby, Jax Shepherd. They both said she was eager, fun. Bit of a SAM.”

Grant wasn’t surprised. “Yeah, I got that.”

“She liked to fight back,” Michael continued. “Struggle in the bondage, use that smart mouth. Brad threatened to gag her, and he told me she was disappointed when he didn’t.”

“I can work with that.”

“I have no doubt. I asked around after she quit,” Michael continued. “A few of the regular submissives hung out with her.”

“What did Jenny have to say?” Grant asked, knowing Michael would’ve asked for the seasoned submissive’s opinion.

“That she was nice, friendly, with a sneaky, fun sense of humor, and had more walls up than China.”

“China just has the one wall,” Grant pointed out, unable to resist.

“It’s a metaphor, asshole. She had a lot of interest aimed her way,” Michael went on, slicing smoothly through Grant’s humor.

Surprised at the unexpected burst of possessiveness, Grant forced a casual tone. “Doms do love fresh blood.”

“James told me she’d come to the bar, order a soda, and by the time he had it in front of her the vultures were circling.”

It amused Grant to hear Michael refer to his clientele as vultures.

“James also told me you bailed on her.”

Grant winced. “We had plans to meet up the Saturday after her orientation, but I got called out of town.”

“Hmmm.”

Grant slowed to take the turn into his mother’s driveway. “By the time I was back, she’d skipped.”

“And now she’s fallen back into your lap,” Michael finished. “You got a plan?”

“Working on that.” Throwing the truck into park, Grant sat back.

“Good luck,” Michael offered. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back to my guest.”

“Poor girl.”

“Fuck you, too,” Michael shot back and ended the call.

Grinning, Grant switched off the engine. With the bag of apples looped over one arm, he climbed out of the cab and hauled the bag of dog food out of the bed. Balancing it on his shoulder, he let himself in the kitchen door.

The house was quiet, so he dumped the dog food in the mudroom and the apples in the blue bowl on the counter, then toed off his boots before moving into the living room. Henry was snoring contentedly on the rug in front of the hearth, the fire down to embers behind him. He stoked the coals and added wood, amused when Henry’s only response to the noise was to snore louder. Giving the dog a pat, he crossed to the bookshelf behind the sofa.

His mother always kept a notebook and pencil on the shelf with the games, for keeping score. Taking them with him to the sofa, he flipped past the pages of Scrabble scores and poker tallies until he found a blank page.

Then he began writing down all the terrible, wonderful things he might do with Anna Goodwin.

---