second. “Do I need to cut another switch?”
She had the grace to look sheepish. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. Seriously, though, how are you affording the renovations? I know how much I paid for this trip, I can count the guests and the employees and do the math. My job aside, I do have to wonder.”
Logan dusted his hands off on his thighs and crossed to the door, opening it to a flood of unexpectedly bright sunshine. They must have been in the toolshed longer than he’d realized. “After you.”
“Oh.” She brushed her hands off, echoing his action, then raised them to her face, her hair, as she stepped past him. “Do I look like . . .”
Her lips were rosy and her cheeks flushed. Her hair looked less artfully tousled than it had at the beginning of the day. Nothing she couldn’t blame on the sun and wind from the hike. “You look great. How about me?”
“Totes freshly fucked.”
He snorted, his moment of irritation vanishing. “That’s my aesthetic. And to answer your question, it’s part ‘using up all my savings and getting help from Ethan and our cousin Chet,’ and part ‘I have no clue where the rest will come from.’ But this week was only ever meant to be a test run. Once the rest of the cabins are fixed up again, and the guest rooms in the main house, we’ll be able to take bigger crowds.” If they still had any capital left by then, after sinking so much into the money pit the ranch was turning out to be. “The idea is to offer some weekend packages, have different deals for on-and off-season. Start partnering with some local restaurants, maybe try to work with the biker conventions twice a year. And there’s also a camping ground, vehicle-accessible. It’s on the other side of the hill from where we ate lunch today. Chet thinks we should do RV hookups out there, maybe do some cabin tents, something like that. Also have primitive camping, because he’s insane.”
“Primitive camping close to a hunting lease seems like an accident waiting to happen.”
“ Exactly what Ethan and I keep telling him. But he says if people can’t obey clearly posted warning signs, they have no business stepping outside their homes.”
She chuckled. “Sounds like an interesting guy.”
“Yeah. He’s . . . well. He’s one of us.”
She gave him that puzzled look, then she got it and nodded. “Must be tough, in Bolero.”
Logan shrugged. “It’s tough everywhere.”
Which was why they were doing this, wasn’t it? Sneaking in a beating when nobody was looking. Ducking into hiding spots for some furtive domination and orgasms. Because it was tough to find somebody into kink at all, tougher still to find somebody who seemed to match up perfectly.
And nearly impossible to find the gold standard, the trifecta: somebody who lived close enough for regular scenes, whose kinks aligned with yours, and with whom you wanted to spend time outside the kink world.
As they ambled down the trail toward the main house, Logan stole a glance at Mindy. At her messy mop of hair, at her possibly stubble-burned face. He wanted to hold her hand. Instead, he reminded himself that even if they were kink soul mates, she was kind of the devil in disguise.
* * *
Clouds were building in the sky as Mindy wound down the road into Bolero Monday morning. In theory, there was a 50 percent chance of thunderstorms. In Central Texas, that could mean anything. The actual weather didn’t care about statistics. It might rain none of the time; the clouds would threaten and possibly throw some lightning. It might rain 50 percent of the time, off and on. Or 50 percent of the places, in stripes, one yard left dry while the neighbor’s was inundated.
Or it could be an out-and-out deluge. When she’d headed for her car, Lamar had warned of that. Dire and grim, based on his aching knees and overall experience. Mindy figured she’d take her chances. After yesterday’s bizarre impromptu toolshed make-out, she needed at least a
She had the grace to look sheepish. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. Seriously, though, how are you affording the renovations? I know how much I paid for this trip, I can count the guests and the employees and do the math. My job aside, I do have to wonder.”
Logan dusted his hands off on his thighs and crossed to the door, opening it to a flood of unexpectedly bright sunshine. They must have been in the toolshed longer than he’d realized. “After you.”
“Oh.” She brushed her hands off, echoing his action, then raised them to her face, her hair, as she stepped past him. “Do I look like . . .”
Her lips were rosy and her cheeks flushed. Her hair looked less artfully tousled than it had at the beginning of the day. Nothing she couldn’t blame on the sun and wind from the hike. “You look great. How about me?”
“Totes freshly fucked.”
He snorted, his moment of irritation vanishing. “That’s my aesthetic. And to answer your question, it’s part ‘using up all my savings and getting help from Ethan and our cousin Chet,’ and part ‘I have no clue where the rest will come from.’ But this week was only ever meant to be a test run. Once the rest of the cabins are fixed up again, and the guest rooms in the main house, we’ll be able to take bigger crowds.” If they still had any capital left by then, after sinking so much into the money pit the ranch was turning out to be. “The idea is to offer some weekend packages, have different deals for on-and off-season. Start partnering with some local restaurants, maybe try to work with the biker conventions twice a year. And there’s also a camping ground, vehicle-accessible. It’s on the other side of the hill from where we ate lunch today. Chet thinks we should do RV hookups out there, maybe do some cabin tents, something like that. Also have primitive camping, because he’s insane.”
“Primitive camping close to a hunting lease seems like an accident waiting to happen.”
“ Exactly what Ethan and I keep telling him. But he says if people can’t obey clearly posted warning signs, they have no business stepping outside their homes.”
She chuckled. “Sounds like an interesting guy.”
“Yeah. He’s . . . well. He’s one of us.”
She gave him that puzzled look, then she got it and nodded. “Must be tough, in Bolero.”
Logan shrugged. “It’s tough everywhere.”
Which was why they were doing this, wasn’t it? Sneaking in a beating when nobody was looking. Ducking into hiding spots for some furtive domination and orgasms. Because it was tough to find somebody into kink at all, tougher still to find somebody who seemed to match up perfectly.
And nearly impossible to find the gold standard, the trifecta: somebody who lived close enough for regular scenes, whose kinks aligned with yours, and with whom you wanted to spend time outside the kink world.
As they ambled down the trail toward the main house, Logan stole a glance at Mindy. At her messy mop of hair, at her possibly stubble-burned face. He wanted to hold her hand. Instead, he reminded himself that even if they were kink soul mates, she was kind of the devil in disguise.
* * *
Clouds were building in the sky as Mindy wound down the road into Bolero Monday morning. In theory, there was a 50 percent chance of thunderstorms. In Central Texas, that could mean anything. The actual weather didn’t care about statistics. It might rain none of the time; the clouds would threaten and possibly throw some lightning. It might rain 50 percent of the time, off and on. Or 50 percent of the places, in stripes, one yard left dry while the neighbor’s was inundated.
Or it could be an out-and-out deluge. When she’d headed for her car, Lamar had warned of that. Dire and grim, based on his aching knees and overall experience. Mindy figured she’d take her chances. After yesterday’s bizarre impromptu toolshed make-out, she needed at least a
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