Bella

The Hopeful Heart day was a raging success. After my boss ravaged me in his office, I’d raised ten thousand dollars in two hours. And I’d eaten every bite of my Southwest Ranch salad, even though I didn’t love it. So, why when we pulled into my driveway after work did Garrett Love give the biggest, fakest yawn I have ever seen, and tell me he was too tired to come in?

Damn, damn, double damn. The first day of being my full-fledged boyfriend and he didn’t even kiss me goodbye.

Opening my freezer door, I stared at the Cherry Garcia beckoning me from within. What the heck? My boyfriend of less than twenty-four hours had practically dumped me. Why not resort to my old habits?

No, a nagging, handsome cowboy entered my brain, commanding me to open the fridge and eat the chicken and sautéed vegetables instead.

What a conundrum.

I settled for the chicken, promising myself an ice cream dessert afterwards. I removed the lid, slamming the microwave door just a little harder than necessary, and set the timer for two minutes. As I watched the food rotate, I reminded myself that Garrett had bought the food for me, prepared it for me, and even marked the container with how long to cook it.

Pushing my silly insecurities aside, I decided to throw a load of wash into the washing machine that said boyfriend had also purchased for me and had delivered to my house.

“Silly, Bella. Get a grip,” I mumbled as I shoved a month’s worth of dirty towels in the empty tub of the washer. I pushed down on the towels trying to make room for one more. Adding the soap, I turned the knob to ‘super’ load size and went back to the kitchen.

Just as I was biting down on a steaming piece of broccoli, my phone rang. Hope rose in my chest as I rushed to answer it. It was none other than my boyfriend, Garrett Love.

“Hello?” I tried to keep the middle school girl excitement from my voice, but it was impossible.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Actually, at this very minute, I am digesting a piece of healthy broccoli, which I opted to eat instead of ice cream.”

“Good girl,” he laughed.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting on my porch, thinking about you.”

“Are you now?”

“Yes. And feeling sorry that I rushed off when I dropped you off. Instead of coming in and doing bad things to you.”

My panties felt melty and I squirmed in my chair at the promise in his words. “Why’d you rush off so fast, then?”

“It was… a long day. I had to face the greatest mistake of my past today.”

I sat down, placing the dish on the coffee table and settling into my sagging couch. “Tell me.”

“You know Evan Stevenson, Ray and Jessica’s son? I think you’ve seen him around the ranch.”

The little black-haired boy who often came riding in the afternoons. The serious one who seemed to make it his responsibility to look out for the younger members of the program when he was there. The very same one who was a spitting image of Garrett Love.

“Yes, I do.”

“He’s my son.”

“I know,” I whispered. I had known it all along, even though I didn’t know that I knew it until I heard it said out loud.

“How’d you know?” he asked.

“I’ve seen you two, together. He looks just like you. One day when you both were leaning on a fence post, you had your arms and legs crossed in exactly the same manner. It was uncanny.” My memory flashed back to that day as I downed a big bite of chicken. Garrett and his mini me, leaning against the post, their heads cocked at exactly the same angle, their arms crossed just so, their dark gazes keeping a steady eye on the riders in the ring. “That and Jessica told me while you two were at the Burger Barn.”

Laughing, Garrett said, “Omitted that little fact, did you?”

“She was nervous. I think it slipped out. She raised a lot of money with that nervous energy though while she was waiting for you to return. She told me the whole, sordid story.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want even one more person to know before Evan, but I had no idea when they would tell him. Did she tell you the part about me leaving her while she was pregnant?”

“She did.”

“Then I showed up drunk to Jess and Ray’s wedding—you know the icing on the cake kind of deal. That’s when Wes got me to Free Fall and saved my life. That kid is something else. Talks like a little grown up and more mature than most adults. But the best part was when he forgave me. I feel like I can finally move on.” Garrett cleared his throat, pausing before he spoke again. “I’m glad Jess told you. At least you had an idea of why I ran off so quickly tonight.”

“Actually,” I admitted shyly, “I was worried it was because of me.”

“Don’t be silly, Bella. I’m obsessed with you. Just an emotional day and I needed to catch my breath.”

Obsessed with me. The very idea sent delicious shivers down my spine. Just as I was trying to think up a super sexy retort, a loud, steady banging filled my house. “What the heck is that?”

“Obsessed with you? I am. I can’t get enough of you.”

“Not you, not what you said. The noise. There is some awful banging going on over here.” I jumped up from my seat and ran towards the back of the house where the noise was coming from. In the laundry room sat my brand-new washing machine, rocking back and forth.

“Shit,” I hissed through my teeth throwing the lid open. The tub slowed its turning and the deafening noise lessened until the machine came to a full stop and the house was quiet again.

“Bella—is that your washing machine?”

“Yes.”

“Did you overfill it like I told you not to?”

“Maybe.”

“Take half the stuff out, put it in a laundry basket, then make sure all the clothes are loaded evenly, and restart the washer. Then run the rest in a second load.”

“In my defense, it was towels.”

“Did you stuff them down in there?”

“Maybe.”

Garrett chuckled. “I’m going to let you go take care of that. And I’m sure you have some dishes to take care of.”

I did.

His voice lowered as it softened when he spoke again. “And, Bella, thanks for everything today. You were amazing.”

“You’re welcome, Garrett. I was happy to do it.”

“Night.”

“Goodnight.”

I continued to hold the phone to my ear until I heard the lonely depressing sound of the dial tone.

So—it wasn’t me after all. It had just been a… ‘my son of ten years who I have been living down the street from and seeing weekly figured out that I was his dad and left his mom when she was pregnant, kind of day’. I had had plenty of days like that of my own.

Sighing, I sank down on my couch. We all carried baggage with us. For some of us the bags were just heavier, packed all by ourselves with our choices. Thinking of the day, Garrett had made me think of my own son, Oliver.

Picking up the phone, I stared at the picture on the screen. It was Oliver, sitting proudly on top of Waffles, the apricot horse that was his favorite to ride. I hated to interrupt his evening routine, but after hearing of Garrett’s day I longed to hear Oliver’s voice.

“Hey, Bella,” the gruff voice of my ex said on the other end of the line. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Dave. I just wanted to say ‘hi’ to Oliver if he isn’t too busy.”

“Just a sec, Bells.”

I heard my ex-husband calling for our son. There was long pause, then Dave returned to the phone. “He’s just finishing up a game of Uno with his brothers. This round’s gotten pretty heated. Can he call you back?”

“Of course,” I said brightly. I knew I hadn’t earned the privilege most moms had of demanding that they came first, that their children end their card game and hurry to talk to them. I knew I would always be second place to his family now. And I knew it was my fault, and due to choices I had made in the past. “Or even tomorrow is fine. But only if he wants to.”

“Okay. Take care of yourself, Bells.”

“I will. You too.”

“Goodbye.” Again, the lonely dial tone buzzed in my ear.

Resting my head on the back cushion of the couch, I closed my eyes tight, pressing down the bile that threatened to rise. You can never go back and change the past. The vision of Garrett’s face danced behind my closed lids. You couldn’t change the past. It was true. But being able to walk through the future with someone who understood your past was possible. And a miracle. I began to wonder if there wasn’t something to all of Garrett’s talk about working hard at life to no longer make such foolish mistakes. Cherishing discipline and stability over chaos and flightiness.

A few months ago, one of Oliver’s avoided phone calls would have sent me straight to the freezer to devour a pint of mint chocolate chip. Three bottles of sparkling water later I would crawl into bed with all the lights on, the house a wreck. Instead, tonight, I had a renewed energy. I hopped up from the couch and went to the kitchen. Pulling on my yellow rubber gloves, I squeezed the last drop of soap into the sink and got to work beneath the lavender scented bubbles.

* * *

Bright eyed and ready for my day, I paced by my door even though it was only quarter to seven. I had gotten an amazing night of sleep, woke up refreshed, and even sang in the shower as I lathered my hair that morning.

At seven o’clock on the dot, Garrett’s truck pulled into the driveway. I rushed out to greet him, throwing myself into the cab and slamming the door. When I turned to Garrett, he leaned in, giving me a soft kiss on the cheek.

“That was from last night. Sorry, I didn’t do it then.”

“And where is my good morning kiss?”

“Ah—how could I forget that too?”

Leaning in slowly, his lips met mine. There was an electricity there as he pressed them firmly. The tip of his tongue found its way into my mouth, just barely entering and caressing. Detaching from me, he pulled back slightly, murmuring, “Good morning to you, Bella.”

“It is turning out to be a lovely morning, isn’t it?” I murmured back.

A lovely morning turned into a lovely day. I was surprised when Garrett came to collect me from the barn to take me home before lunch was even served.

Keeping an aura of mystery around him, he refused to answer my questions as we piled into his truck. “Where to, little bit?” he asked, his hands on ten and two as always.

“I don’t know. Don’t we need to work?”

“Not this afternoon. You’re with the boss, and the boss says we’re playing hooky. Besides, I haven’t taken you on a proper date yet. That’s shameful, seeing as you’ve been my girlfriend for all of thirty-five hours. Have you eaten?”

“Not in so many words,” I answered, thinking of the bites of ice cream I had stirred into my coffee that morning after writing ‘cream’ on my shopping list.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he said, raising a stern brow towards me. “How about The Grill?”

“Sounds good. Greasy spoons are my kind of place.”

“You mean they cater to picky?” he teased.

“I am not picky,” I protested, knowing full well I was.

“Well, you can order anything at The Grill, just the way you want it. I won’t even make you eat a horrid—God forbid—vegetable. Though they have the best home fries this side of Texas.”

I laughed. “I can make an exception for potatoes,” I acquiesced.

“Good. The Grill it is.” He turned the truck onto Main Street. “Do you want to talk about yesterday? About Evan?”

“Not if you don’t. Honestly, I could use a break from living in the past.”

“I think I’d like that,” he said with a smile.

We ordered breakfast for lunch. Me, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and a side of home fries. For Garrett a steak and veggie omelet with a side of fries. We happily munched away, chatting about lighter topics.

Dropping me off at my house, Garrett looked at his watch anxiously. “Listen, I hate to run, but I have somewhere I have to be. Can I call you tonight?”

“Sure.” I closed the door to the truck, walking myself up to my door. Garrett pulled away and onto the road before he saw I was safely in. Silly, but it hurt my feelings as he had made it a habit to do so every other time he had taken me home.

I went inside flipping on lights and locking the door behind me. The place was spotless from my earlier cleaning. I was still full from my meal at The Grill. I had spoken with Oliver that morning, so no need to call and bug him tonight. The empty evening seemed to stretch in front of me, looming with loneliness.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, plopping down on the couch and picking up the remote control. I shouldn’t be feeling lonely when I had just had an incredible date with my boyfriend, after spending the day working with him and some really sweet kids. Every grown adult needed to know how to spend time alone with themselves, and I was no exception. I used to know how to spend an evening alone. Before Garrett that was.

Getting up, I went to the fridge thinking a little ice cream might curb my case of loneliness. I looked over all my old friends, the different flavors seeming to call out ‘pick me! pick me’. I put my hand around the side of the Chubby Hubby. The words almost made me cry—I missed Garrett so much. And he wasn’t even my hubby. What on Earth was wrong with me?

I sat back down on the couch, watching old movies and waiting for the phone to ring. I picked up the phone and looked at the screen. My phone was on. I picked it up again and pressed the button on the side, just to be sure the volume for the ringer was up loud enough for me to hear it. It was. I swiped down on the screen and double checked that there had been no missed calls. There hadn’t.

Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. Picking up the phone, I dialed Boss Man Garrett Love. I nibbled nervously at my nail as it rang. He said he would call me, not for me to call him. One ring, two rings, three rings, four rings. My mood brightened when I heard Garrett’s voice, but then fell again when I processed the words, “Garrett Love. You know what to do at the sound of the beep.”

“Ugh.” I threw my head back into the cushion behind my head. Agitatedly, I tapped on the arm of my couch, my eyes roving around the room. “What would it hurt to call again?” I murmured.

Dialing the number, a rock formed in the pit of my stomach. Two calls in a row meant one of two things, the person on the other end of the line had an emergency or was a stalker. My fingertip tapping at twice the speed now, I held my breath as the ringing of his phone buzzed in my ear.

“Bella?” The voice sounded breathless… and worried. Situation one—he picked up because he thought I had an emergency. Whoops.

“Uh—hi, Garrett. What are you up to?”

His tone was serious as he demanded, “Bella—are you okay?”

“Yes, I just—”

“Thank God,” he murmured. “When you called twice, my mind instantly went to the worst. Don’t you know you only double call in an emergency?”

“Yes, but—”

“Bella, I can’t talk now. I’m with Jessica and we have some things we need to discuss.”

Jessica. The name of the beautiful, blonde, ex-fiancée hit me right in my gut, making a sour bile rise to my throat. My temper flared before I could convince myself to stay in control. “You have time to talk to Jessica, but can’t talk to me?”

The stern tone that reached through the phone wasn’t enough to calm me. “Bella—be reasonable.”

Shameful, I know, but thinking of Garrett with the beautiful blonde suddenly had me feeling all kinds of insecure. I sat silently on the other end, unsure of what to say.

“Bella, you there? Answer me… Bella?”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and said, “Yeah—I’m here.” Before he had a chance to respond, I said, “But I’ll let you go now.” Then ended the call.

Turning my phone off, I tossed it on the cushion next to me. Again, my eyes wandered around the lonely house. “I have to get out of here,” I said, jumping up from my sagging seat. I couldn’t be alone another moment, and I couldn’t be here in this house.

Shrugging into my thin jacket, I picked up my car keys before I remembered that my only mode of transportation was of no use to me. “Damn,” I mused to myself. Looking down at my boots, I realized I still had one way to get around. The one that was as old as time—my two capable feet.

Stepping out into the cool evening, I shut my front door. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket, I looked right then left. Making my decision, I headed for Main Street. It was only about a mile past the laundromat where I had washed my clothes before Garrett had sent me the washer and dryer. Thinking of Garrett, I pushed down the feelings of guilt over the way I had handled our brief phone conversation.

The mature, reasonable thing to do would be to go back to the house, turn the phone on, call and apologize. But something about the way he had said, “Bella, be reasonable,” had me holding onto what was left of my temper and kept my feet moving towards Main Street.

It was a moonless night and street lights were few and far between. Knowing Poke was the safest town in Texas, I still jumped at every sound in the dark night.

Finally, I reached the little strip that was downtown, historic, Main Street. I walked by the businesses, checking my options. Five and Dime, closed. Sarah’s Cakes, closed. The Grill, closed. Post Office—not sure what I would do there, but it didn’t matter because it was closed too. The only thing open was Ray’s.

Ray’s was a bar. I was a recovered alcoholic. People who had problems with alcohol did not belong in bars. Therefore, I did not belong in bars. Ray’s was a bar. Ray’s was also the only place that was open past eight p.m. within a three-mile radius of where I was. And I was done walking. Peeking through the windows, I saw the laughing faces of the people who were having a night out. A fun time with a couple of drinks to lighten the mood, take away the stress of the day.

I also saw the other crowd you find in a bar. The lonely ones seated at the bar, drinking to feel numb. The ones I used to be. Steeling my nerves, I opened the door.

A few faces turned my way. No one really took notice of me, or as I expected, jumped up from their seat, proclaiming, “You can’t be in here. Didn’t you used to be a raging alcoholic?”

I shyly slid onto a barstool, trying not to draw any attention to myself. The bartender, an older gentleman with a graying beard, made his way over to me.

“Name’s Glenn. What can I get you, pretty lady?” he asked, sliding a coaster and a tin of peanuts in front of me.

Sitting up on my stool, I made my request. “I’ll have a glass of milk, please.”

Eyebrow raising in surprise, but making no comment, Glenn went to the fridge. Pulling a chilled glass from a small freezer, he poured the milk to the top of the cup.

Bringing it back to me, he put it on the coaster, giving me a wink and saying, “On the house.”

At that moment, I realized I had come here with no purse, no money. I hadn’t locked my front door. I left my keys in my house. And I had walked, alone, through the dark night to get here.

And the very worst of my transgressions, I had put myself in the most dangerous situation possible for someone like me. I had entered a bar.

Standing from my seat without a word of explanation, I turned, running from Ray’s. Pushing the door open, hard, I broke out into the black night, pulling a deep breath of air into my lungs.

Taking a few deeper breaths, I began walking towards my house. The streets seemed even darker now, only the dim light of the few street lights shone. There was still no moon to speak of. I could barely see my feet as I hurried along the sidewalk.

The town of Poke was the safest around I continued to tell myself. I jumped as I heard the hiss of a cat in the bushes as I passed by. Maybe walking home hadn’t been my best idea yet.

Just as I was sure that the hoot of an owl was that of an evil spirit coming to haunt me, I heard a car approaching fast. Shielding my eyes from the headlights, I looked behind me as the car slowed in my presence. Looking around at my feet for something to protect myself with. Spying a rock with a sharp edge, I grabbed it up into my hands, clenching my fingers around it tightly. I was prepared to use my weapon. I could at least gouge an eye out of my assailant.

Holding my breath, I prepared myself to take a life as the car pulled up next to me. The window rolled down, but it was too dark to make out the face. But I knew the voice instantly.

“Bella Buchanan, get your ass in this truck this very instant.”

Considering his face, I decided I had best do as he said. Dropping the rock, I hurried around the front of the truck and opened the passenger side door. The interior light came on and I was greeted by the face of my furious boss boyfriend.

As soon as I had shut the passenger door of the truck, his angry string of words began. “What the hell are you doing walking home? I thought I told you that if I so much as saw your thumb out on the side of the road I would tear your ass up.”

“I wasn’t hitchhiking.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was walking home.”

His palms came down hard on the steering wheel. “I don’t know what’s worse. Walking home on your own in the dark, or hitchhiking. You have a total and complete disregard for your safety.” His voice dropped an octave and when he spoke again, it gave me chills. He was livid in that cool, calm way when you surpass being angry. His low voice rumbled.

“Where were you walking home from?”

I was too scared to say.

“Bella.” He said my name like a threat and I instantly broke my silence.

“Ray’s,” I whispered.

“You were in a bar?”

“Yes.”

A deadly silence filled the cab of the truck. I held my breath, unable to inhale while I waited for the explosion. It remained quiet, which suddenly seemed worse than if he would have yelled at me. Garrett slowly began the drive back to my house. The truck inched down the road as I snuck peeks at him from the corner of my eyes. His brow was strained, his flashing eyes livid. The muscles of his jaw were clenched tightly.

“What were you doing there?”

“I just wanted to… go out?”

“Were you thinking of drinking?”

“No. I just wanted to feel what it was like to be somewhere else. You know? Somewhere other than my lonely house.”

“So. Let me get this straight… you hung up on me, walked alone in the dark, and went to—of all places—a bar.”

“It was the only place that was open.”

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have gone in.”

I sat quietly, my hands folded in my lap. My cheeks burned as he snuck furious glances at me in between his steady stares at the road.

“You and I don’t get to go to bars anymore. Not to sit, not to chat, not to take in the atmosphere. It is off limits, little girl. I can’t even believe you were in there. Weren’t you tempted to drink?”

“I didn’t drink, Garrett Love. I had a glass of milk,” I spat at him with venom in my voice.

His voice was dark—borderline dangerous—when he spoke again. “But were you tempted?”

I thought about those foaming pints of draft beer sitting on the polished wood countertop, condensation forming on the edges of the cold glass. The thought of the feel of the alcohol warming my body as I watched a man snap his head back, downing a shot of Jack Daniel’s whiskey. The warm floating feeling after the first drink, leading to the heady deadening feeling of the twelfth.

“Yes, all right. Are you happy now? I was tempted to drink.” For the first time in five years I had come dangerously close to tasting the elixir of the intoxicating nectar. But I had ordered a milk.

“Are you so sure you want to get fresh with me, little girl? You’ve already gotten yourself in a heap of trouble as it is.”

This was the ‘just wait until we get home’ moment I had been waiting for in our relationship. Only instead of my tummy being filled with butterflies, a ball of ice formed there.

Giving him a sidelong glance, I shivered at the set of his chiseled jaw. I had crossed some type of line with Mr. Love and I was going to pay dearly for it. I could tell. Giving a gulp, I folded my hands tighter in my lap, pressing my knees together and making myself take up as little room as possible in the truck. Almost as if to make him forget I was here. Forget that I had gone to a bar, then tried to walk home by myself in the dark.

“Why were you with Jessica?” I asked shyly.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. “I was with Jessica, and her husband. I was giving them my will. The one that says when I pass away, Evan inherits half of what is mine of the ranch. It’s been weighing on me ever since the conversation he and I had at the Burger Barn. I wanted it to be official—to hold tight to my word. And to do it right away. It’s how I do things now. Or over the past ten years actually.”

Oops. I guess I could have asked that question a lot sooner instead of hanging up the phone and hightailing it to a bar.

“How’d you find me?” I asked, curious and trying to change the subject.

“After our fight… after you hung up the phone, I came straight to your house. I didn’t want to leave our conversation like that. When you didn’t answer, I went looking for you. I figured you went on a walk to blow off steam. Then I tried the grocery—you are out of dish soap after all—then I just had this sick feeling. I knew I needed to check Ray’s.” I could feel his heated gaze raking over me before he continued his story. “Bartender said there had been a cute, little redhead in there. Ordered a glass of milk, looking scared as a kitten, then left. I drove down the road a bit, and there you were. I was relieved to find you in one piece.”

“You don’t look relieved. You look angry.”

“I am angry. About as angry as I’ve ever been. And just about as relieved as I’ve ever been. Bella—I’ve never been that worried about someone in my whole life.”

Slowly he pulled the truck over onto the wide shoulder of the road. Putting the gearshift into park, he ran his hands through his hair. Turning his lean body towards me, his gaze locked on mine. There was a flash of an emotion I couldn’t quite read as his stare bore into mine.

“Bella. I’m only this angry because I care so much about you. It’s caught me off guard how worried I get, how much concern I feel for your safety. How much I miss you when you’re not there. My heart literally stopped when there was no answer at your door tonight. Tell me the only logical explanation for why I feel this way, Bella Buchanan.”

“I don’t know, but I feel the same way about you.”

“I love you, Bella. That’s why. I am in love with you.”

I held my breath as he reached out, stroking my hair softly. His fingertips trailed across my cheek, underneath my chin resting there as he continued. “I’m in love with you. I’ve known it all along, but I couldn’t vocalize it until tonight. When I was looking for you all I could think is ‘I love that girl and she doesn’t even know it yet’.”

“I love you, too,” I breathed.

A bright light gleamed in his eyes in response to my words. He leaned in, kissing me, hard. The kiss was passionate and deep and left my lips feeling bruised. It melted me right to my core, even the block of ice that had first formed when I knew I was in deep trouble.

My hands went into his hair. Reaching up, he untwined my fingers from their hold.

Pulling away, he said, “First things first.”

“What?” I asked dumbly, heat flushed in my face and my body straining towards his. I wanted to keep kissing.

“A little visit to my office.”

The nervous butterflies took flight in my stomach as I considered his face. His jaw was now set again, his dark eyes flashing. An arched brow rose all the way up to his tousled hair.

I gulped, scooting over to my side of the bench seat. I sat quietly as Garrett put the truck into drive, then made a smooth reentry onto the road.

We rode in silence. I took the time to process the wild mix of emotions that overwhelmed me. I was nervous, borderline scared, feeling guilty for my mistake. And I was turned on. By his power, his control, his concerns, and his kiss. And he loves me.

The gravel crunched under the tires as we made our way to his office. There was a single light shining by the door that led inside. Once the truck was in park, I continued to sit. Garrett left the truck, coming to my side and opening my door. I took a deep breath, unbuckling my safety belt. He reached out a hand to me and I grabbed it, grateful for the reassurance. Leaving the truck, he shut the door quietly behind me.

We entered the dark office and it instantly became familiar when he flipped on the light.

His arms were suddenly wrapped around me—tightly. His mouth was by my ear, whispering into my hair, “What do I do with naughty girls?”

My only response to his question was to mew like a kitten—the hold he had on me tightened as I heard the cat like noises I didn’t recognize as coming from me.

Reaching down the back of my jeans, his fingers wrapped tightly around the waistband of my panties. With one fell swoop, he tugged them up into the crack of my bottom, pulling the fabric tightly as it rubbed against my sensitive bottom hole.

I gasped, my head thrown back, as he pulled the panties even higher.

“I think it’s time we pulled these jeans off and punished your naughty, little bottom. Don’t you?

I groaned, I moaned, but I could not say yes.

His grasp locked on my waist. It felt tiny in the expanse of his huge hand. With it he turned me roughly until I was facing his desk. With his other hand still pulling on the waistband of my panties, he guided me until I was bent over the desk. The tightly drawn fabric chaffed at my bum hole.

Standing behind me, I could feel the hard lump of his cock straining against his jeans as it pushed against the crack in my ass.

Reaching around my waist, he lifted my stomach slightly from its press against the edge of the desk, unbuttoning my jeans. Zipper down, he tugged at the denim around my waist, pulling my jeans down to my knees. Leaning up against me, I could now feel his manhood’s presence against my thin panty clad bottom as his other hand continued pulling at the taut fabric.

Moving away from me, I moaned at the absence of his erection—even if it was only pressed against me through his jeans. All I wanted was him to thrust his cock deep within me, pumping hard, my hipbones banging against the wood of the desk. But I knew he would punish me first.

The anticipation of his paddle like hand slapping my bare skin had my tummy in knots. His hand went to the center of my back, pressing my torso against the desk. I gave up trying to hold my head up and lay my cheek against his desk—perfectly folded in half over the workspace of my boss.

Garrett had essentially given me the grown-up clit teasing version of a wedgie. The cool air tickled the bare skin of my ass cheeks as I held my breath against the strain that the fabric tightening in my crack was creating.

I gasped in shock as Garrett’s hand came underneath my bottom, cupping my sex over the damp fabric of my abused panties. His fingers strayed, slowly, lazily, on the fabric over my slit, then pressing hard on my clit. I moaned in anticipation, just before his presence disappeared.

“You tease,” I accused, my voice sounding dark and husky in my own ears.

“I do nothing of the sort. I punish.”

The mewing baby kitten sound was back and my faced burned with shame as I allowed my vocal chords to relay my darkest desires.

With a hard tug, I gasped and rose on my tippy toes as the strained material pulled against my sensitive cleft. His hand came down hard on the bare skin of my right ass cheek. I cried in surprise as its twin landed on the left. I was holding my breath now, the pain from the hard smacks seemed to empty my lungs.

The punishment began in earnest as smack after smack landed, the slapping sound echoing through the small office. He slapped my right side, left side, right side, left side, his hand mercilessly landing in the same exact spot on each side, every time.

“Oh, please stop, Garrett,” I begged.

“This is only the warm-up,” his deep voice promised. “I will see to it that you will be thoroughly punished for doing something so stupid, so reckless…” his angry voice trailed off. And I could tell he was trying to regain his composure, after allowing himself to become angry at my ridiculous misdeeds.

Shame covered me as the pain blinded me. He was in control, but he was angry, and I could feel his misgivings in every slap that landed on my burning skin. My ass had to be cherry red by this point.

“I’m going to give you ten with my belt, little lady. I want you sobbing and a wreck by the end of this punishment—knowing full well that you will never again in your life step foot into a bar.”

“Oh, I already do, I promise I have learned my lesson. Please don’t spank me with your belt,” I begged, my eyes filling with tears from pain and guilt.

“You need the discipline that only I can give you. Of that I am sure.” His hands leaving me, his words were punctuated by the sound of the metal latch of his belt being undone. I held my breath, my teeth clenched tightly together as the ‘whoosh’ of the leather of his belt being pulled through the loops of his jeans entered my ears.

“Please,” I begged once more.

“No.”

The doubled-up leather came down hard across the spot where the curve of my bottom met the tops of my thighs. My thoughts were cloudy, but I think I remembered Garrett once referring to that place as my ‘sit spots’. I gasped and screamed as the leather bit into my bare skin.

“Another.”

“No!”

But the leather hit again, digging in and blinding me with pain. He was not going to stop until I was crying. I knew that now. And I deserved it for the stunt I had pulled. Stupid me. How did I think this would end?

As I heard the leather ‘whooshing’ through the air, I cried before I felt the bite I knew was coming.

The belt landed and again the pain that was like white lightning entered my mind. From the spanked skin of my bottom to the now striped skin of the very tops of my bare thighs, I was a quivering, sobbing mess. I cried as I waited for the next whipping to fall, but it didn’t come.

Instead, in between the burning, stinging skin of my bottom, there was a curious, wandering hand. My legs spread further as I wiped away the tears from my eyes. Now, the lone fingertip slipped beneath the elastic of my panties, entering me and swirling in my wetness. It then left my dark cave and slowly, never leaving contact with my body, slid up my perineum. I held my breath but then inhaled sharply as that fingertip, moistened by the juices of my own sex, pushed past the clenched unwilling muscular circle of the forbidden hole in my bottom and entered that dark space.

Submission washed over me to my core as the tip of that finger entered up to what felt like one knuckle, then slipped back out, only to enter again. Essentially, my boss boyfriend continued to finger my bottom underneath my panties with his slow motions as I melted further and further into the submission that I believed he intended to draw from me.

“I want you,” I whispered and begged from my place upon his desk.

Withdrawing his finger, he asked, “Who’s in charge?” Then I heard the zipper of his jeans lowering.

“You, of course, sir. Only you.”

He spoke as he slowly pulled my wet panties down to meet my jeans. “That’s right, my darling girl. And if you don’t know that now, I’m going to show you.”

My throbbing pussy was dripping with the juices that he had drawn from me when his fingers were so smoothly going where no man had been before.

I pressed my torso into the desk, my face resting against the smooth grain of the wood, waiting, silently begging him to enter me.

Finally, I felt the tip of his hardened member at the entrance of my vagina. With one, hard, unforgiving push, he shoved his big, hard, cock inside of me.

I gasped as his hip bones dug into my bottom, the full size of his hardened cock filling me and pushing at my core. He pulled back, then again thrust against me, filling me with his rock-hard size until I thought I couldn’t stretch any more.

His hands wrapped around my hips, saving them from continuing to bang into the wooden desk.

My dripping pussy clenched around his member, my mind leaving my body as I practically blacked out from the ecstasy his plunging brought me.

Harder and faster he began to pump, holding me tightly and his hold bringing my punished bottom away, then back to slap against the tops of his thighs.

Harder and faster he went, stars filling my eyes and my mind becoming numb to everything that wasn’t the pulsating pounding of him.

Finally, my pussy clenched as tightly as possible around his member and I cried out, “Oh my fucking God, Garrett Love!”

Wanting to wash my own mouth out with soap, I lay panting and sweating over the up to date desk calendar, sure that the dampness of my torso would be smudging his neat lettering. My body was quivering and quaking in the aftermath of his loving.

I was surprised as I felt his chest laying over my limp back, his spent groin pressed into my waist. My face instinctively turned to his. His lips met mine, and laying over his desk, back to chest, we kissed. It was a slow, needy kiss that melted me to the core.

His hands found their way over the back of my neck into my hair. I lifted and twisted around, his body meeting mine. We stood at the side of his desk, our pants around our knees and made out like teenagers, exploring one another’s mouths.

* * *

When Garrett walked me to my door, I felt like I was floating. Now, I knew what people meant when they said they were on cloud nine. I wanted to sing at the top of my lungs, twirl in circles, scream his name out into the open space around me. I wanted to be Liesl in the Sound of Music, twirling through the gazebo all doe eyed over her man. No, that turned out horribly for her on second thought. What I really wanted was to be Mrs. Bella Love.

But I would take girlfriend of the boss for now.

Just as I was about to turn to Garrett, ready for his embrace, I saw a white piece of paper laying on the ground. Narrowing my eyes, I just made out the black letters of the title on the page. Eviction notice. Gulping, I realized it must have fallen from my front door while I was gone. I stepped over the paper quickly, hiding it under my boot. Just in the nick of time as Garrett wrapped his arms around me, his face burying into the delicate skin in the curve where my neck met my shoulder. Nibbling, kissing, my eyes closed, my back arched, my body melted into what felt like a pool of lava.

Any tension that had entered my body when I had read those dreaded two words—eviction notice—instantly melted away as Garrett Love kissed me with the passion of a man hungering for my love.

Eventually, we untangled ourselves from one another, him pulling away first stating very maturely that we needed to get some sleep, as he would be picking me up for work in just a few hours. Holding my foot firm on the piece of paper, I opened the front door.

“Why don’t you go inside?” he asked.

“I want to wave to you until I can’t see your truck anymore,” I said sweetly, batting my lashes.

Giving me a curious look, Garrett flashed me a smile, kissed me on the cheek and said, “Just until I get to the stop sign. Then I want you inside.”

“Okay,” I answered demurely.

Giving me one last what looked like a ‘I really don’t want to leave you right now’ look, Garrett climbed into his truck and pulled down the drive.

When he was at the stop sign, he waited. I assumed he was watching me in his rearview mirror, waiting for me to go inside. With a little wave, I stepped over my threshold, shutting the door. Peeking through my curtains I watched as his truck pulled down the dark road and out of sight. As soon as it was gone I flung the door open, picking up the letter that now had my boot print on top of it.

“Damn, damn, double damn,” I moaned as I read the words on the paper I had hidden from my boyfriend boss. “This document hereby informs the tenant, Bella Buchanan of 123 Peach Street that the tenant is in non-compliance with Article 2B of occupant’s lease that states rent is due by the fifteenth of each month…” I scanned the wordy legal jargon, getting to the bottom of the page, “The tenant has thirty days to pay all rent including late fees in full, or will be removed from the property and locks will be changed. All of tenant’s personal possessions must be removed from the property or risk being disposed of by property owner.”

Staring at the paper in my hands, my jaw remained dropped open, hanging like a cod fish. Had I forgotten to pay the rent for two whole months? How was that possible? The past month had been such a whirlwind with my new job and new boyfriend. Maybe I had missed a payment. I know last month I had skipped it all together, as I was desperately searching for a job and meant to pay it as soon as I received my first paycheck.

I went inside, closing the door softly behind me. Pulling out my old dinosaur of a laptop computer, I turned it on, listening to its soft hum and whir as it slowly came to life. “Come on,” I coaxed and wished while watching as the screen flickered to life. I signed myself into Mr. McAllister’s WIFI account, laughing at the password, Sweetie1, despite my dire situation. What felt like five full minutes later I had internet access and pulled up my bank account.

“Eight hundred dollars and twenty-eight cents. How can that be?” I mused. My first paycheck had been way more than that and Garrett had been picking up the tab for all my food. There was no gas bill to speak of as he was driving me everywhere I needed to go. Scrolling through the debits on the account, my heart beat faster at the piling angry red numbers of withdrawal. It looked like that month I was without a job I hadn’t kept a close eye on the account and had blown through my meager savings as well as accruing several overdraft fees. I wasn’t due to be paid again until next month and I owed double what was in my account within thirty days—plus the next month’s rent—or I was going to be kicked out.

Three months of rent. That was the total that would be due to my landlord, in thirty days, or I would no longer live at 123 Peach Street. The top of the laptop met the bottom and gave a final sounding click as I closed it, as if sealing my fate. I had no choice. I would have to ask Garrett for the money. A loan. And to continue picking me up and dropping me off every day as there was no way I was going to be able to afford to fix up old Bessie anytime soon.

Snuggling up into a tight ball, I pulled the old patchwork quilt I kept on the back of the couch over my body and closed my eyes, falling into a troubled sleep.

The familiar honk woke me up what felt like minutes later, but judging by the sun peering through my window, hours had past.

Throwing back the quilt, I looked over my outfit. The jeans were freshly washed and only worn once. I had blown out my hair out yesterday. I figured I could swap out my shirt for a fresh one, throw my hair in a ponytail, pop a piece of gum in my mouth and be out the door before Garrett suspected my late wake-up.

As I hurried through my plan, then grabbed the knob of the door, I just hoped to goodness I would be on my best behavior today and not risk getting spanked, as I realized there was no way I wanted anyone, much less Garrett to get a peek at yesterday’s dirty undies that I was still wearing.