Chapter Three

Jett practically skipped down the stairs of her cabin. She’d decided to walk to the lodge. The exercise would do her good, in anticipation of a great meal after she’d met with Griffin Flack. She clutched the expandable folder that held the papers she was to give to the gorgeous cowboy, the one who had been the star of her fantasy that afternoon.

She wore jeans, boots, and a light sweater. She carried a heavier sweater because she was sure the temperature would drop a bit after the sun went down. A deep breath filled her lungs with the beautiful, crisp smell of the mountains and the surrounding foliage. Not too far from here she could here the sounds of running water. She imagined people there, families, playing in the water, some of them fishing, some of them reading. It really was perfect.

What did a room at this place cost? She needed to look it up on the internet to see if it was something she could afford. The outfit she wore right now was something she’d planned to wear into Taos this weekend while Griffin was looking over the papers she’d brought. But now that she’d been here she planned to stay, taking a book and a glass of wine out onto the deck and enjoying the peace and quiet. Doing this a few times a year would be perfect.

She passed several cabins as she walked, nodding and saying good afternoon to the people she saw. Yes, it definitely was perfect.

As she drew closer to the lodge she saw a few cars and trucks, and people on horseback. She’d never been on a horse, and she wondered if they had one that would be good for beginners. She’d have to ask Griffin Flack – should she call him Griffin, or Mr. Flack – after their meeting today.

It only took about ten minutes to get there. She climbed the steps, and had just reached for the screen door when it burst open, and Jett went flying backward, landing on her butt. She grabbed the edge of the railing that ran up the stairs just before she went tumbling down them. Even though they were short, she was sure it would hurt.

“You can’t do this to me!” A man rushed out the front door and went down the first few steps before he turned back to the door. “I own part of that land.”

“You own your part, not mine.” Griffin Flack came out the door. He looked like he was about to explode. She could tell the moment he caught sight of her. The redness in his face turned to a more brilliant shade. He reached down and took her hand, helping her to stand. “Do you see what you’ve done?” he asked the unknown man. “You’ve attacked one of my guests.” His voice was dangerously low.

“One of your whores, you mean?”

Jett gasped. “What did you just call me?”

“I saw what was going on at the other side of your place,” the unknown man said. “Immoral, and probably illegal. I’m going to tell the town council, and they’ll have you shut down.”

“Get out.” Griffin pointed toward the exit. “Come back on my land again and you’ll regret it, mark my words.”

The man waved a piece of paper in the air. “If you think this is going to stop me from having you closed down you’ve got another thing coming. Screw you and your restraining order. I’ll own your land within a month.”

He stormed to a pickup, got in and left in such a hurry his tires made gravel fly into the air.

“Are you all right?” Griffin asked her.

“Fine, Mr. Flack,” she said.

“Griffin,” he said.

Was it her imagination, or had he just whispered, “For now,” under his breath?

“I’m sorry you had to see that. And get knocked down because of it.”

“What was that, exactly?” she asked.

“That was my neighbor across the street and to the south,” he said. “He wants my land.”

“You own that much?” she asked.

“Five thousand acres on either side of the road,” he answered. “He recently bid against me on two thousand acres across the road, and lost.”

“So that means you have seven thousand to the west?” Jett asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “We close on the new sale next month. He’s fighting it.”

“So it would seem,” Jett said. “Enough so that you put a restraining order on him?”

Griffin cleared his throat. “Well, it’s complicated.” He reached down and picked up the folder she’d dropped when she landed flat on her butt. “Let’s go inside and we’ll discuss it.”

Griffin held open the door and ushered her inside. He pointed in the direction of his office and she started down the hall. She could feel him behind her, his presence large. She didn’t think she’d ever met a man this large, and this commanding.

“To the left,” his voice boomed out behind her.

Jett turned into the next open doorway and stopped in her tracks. The office was bigger than her condo living room, and the back wall was solid windows, framing a view of trees and mountains.

“Oh my.”

“Glad you like it,” he said.

The door clicked and Jett jumped just a little. She hated to admit that, despite the idyllic view in front of her, she couldn’t get Griffin’s steely-voiced warning to his neighbor out of her mind.

“Have a seat on the couch,” he said.

The piece of furniture he indicated was solid black leather. She did as he asked, and after she was seated she watched him cross to the desk, which was situated so he could see out the windows.

“I’m really sorry you had to see that,” he said. “I’m not one to issue threats lightly.”

“Does that mean you follow through on your threats?” Jett glanced at the door and judged the distance. Could she make it out if he came after her?

“It means I don’t threaten people,” he said. He dropped the folder on the desk, then crossed to a bar where he picked up a glass. “Drink? I have alcohol, or just a soft drink if you want.”

“Diet soda, please,” she said.

He filled a glass with ice, then popped the top on a can. She watched as he filled it. After he’d put down the empty can he opened a refrigerator door and pulled out a bottle of beer. Once he’d crossed the room and given Jett her glass he plopped down on the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table.

“It’s been a long day,” he said before he took a long pull on his beer.

“Want to tell me why you threatened him?” When he glanced at her she shrugged, “You know, in case I’m questioned by the sheriff or something.”

“You mean in case Nick Portland turns up dead?”

Jett couldn’t help but shiver. “So that’s his name?”

“Nick Portland,” Griffin said before he took another drink. “He wants to open a resort, like Tres Lobos East, but he doesn’t have the land for it. I was willing to pay more for the land at Tres Lobos West. He’s unhappy, and now he wants to find a way to steal it out from under me.”

Land disputes could cause problems, Jett knew that. “Why did he call me a whore, though?”

Griffin took another swig, and then groaned. “We have two parts to Tres Lobos. The family side, which is on the east side of the road, and the adult side, which is on the west side of the road.”

Jett took a moment to process that information. “You’re running a sex retreat?”

“It’s four cabins that couples can rent for some privacy.” He finished off his beer. “We’re going to build two new cabins on the land I just bought.”

“A sex club?” Jett repeated.

“We don’t have parties or gatherings,” he said. “Each cabin has its own dungeon and the couples are free to do as they please.”

Jett’s stomach clenched. “Dungeons?” Surely she hadn’t heard him right.

“That’s why Stan sent you,” Griffin said. He was looking at her now. “Am I wrong? He told me you were a sub. He said I could talk to you about the papers you brought, that you would give me a sub’s opinion.”

“That’s funny, he never said anything about it to me,” Jett said. “As a matter of fact, he said nothing to me about why I’m here. Would you care to shed some light on the situation?”

He got up and went to the refrigerator. He reached inside, and Jett mentally cussed Stan for sending her here. Was this man going to get drunk before he answered her question? But instead of bringing out another beer he brought out a bottle of water. He guzzled it after he’d opened it, and brought out another one.

“I’m not good at telling lies, and I don’t play games,” he said. “Stan called it acting. He said it was best for you not to know the truth. I was supposed to spank your ass, seduce you, make you hate him.”

Now she thought she was going to lose what little food she’d had that day. That rat bastard. He was going back on their agreement, which was for them to always tell the truth. They didn’t have a relationship, but they were not supposed to lie to each other. “Why?”

“He’s leaving the country,” Griffin said. “He’s accepted a job at a university in England. I’m not sure which one. I was supposed to wine and dine you this weekend, but then this crap happened with Portland, and frankly I don’t like to lie, as I said before.”

Jett stared into her glass. “Well, thank you for that.” She’d felt so good earlier, and now she found out Stan was trying to dump her off on one of his friends, as if he owned her, as if he could decide what was best for her. She intended to call him the minute she got back to her cabin and give him a piece of her mind.

“I’ll just pack my bags and be gone,” Jett said. She stood, but before she could get to the door he crossed the room and stepped in front of her.

“I’m pretty blunt,” he said. “It’s not something I’ve ever hidden. Stan knew that when he sent you up here. I don’t want to upset you, and I’m certainly not going to force myself on you. I could use help with the papers you brought, though.”

“Frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass about your papers,” Jett said.

“Okay, I can understand that. But it would be a crime to skip out on dinner.” He winked at her. “Trust me when I say you won’t find better food in this area.” When she didn’t answer he said, “I’m not part of what will happen between you and Stan. But don’t blame me for what he’s done. I repeat myself when I say I really do need help with the papers.”

“The ones that have to be filed on Monday?” Jett knew the answer to that before Griffin even said it.

“Filed where?” he asked.

“He lied about that, too,” she muttered.

“Stan’s a lawyer,” Griffin said. “He knows how to twist things to win an argument.”

“What exactly are these papers?” she asked.

“Agreements for the subs and Doms to sign when they come to visit.”

Well that made sense. But whether it truly was work or not, she had half a mind to walk out on the whole situation. Except if it was work she might lose her job if she went back to Santa Fe without doing as her boss – the rat bastard – had told her to do.

“Son of a biscuit eater.” Jett crossed back to the couch and threw herself down on the sofa.

“Excuse me?” he asked with a laugh.

“My grandmother taught me to cuss without actually cussing,” she said. “She told me a lady never let swear words out of her mouth. So she’d say things like son of a biscuit eater. I say things like shut the frack up, or kiss my behind. Unless I’m alone, and then I cuss like a sailor.”

“Is rat’s ass not cussing?” he asked. He sat down next to her on the sofa.

“Not if it’s the truth,” she said, and then she grimaced. “Well, it is, but frankly right now I don’t care. I’m so angry with him.”

“I can understand that,” he said. “So you’ll stay?”

She thought about it for a few minutes, then she looked out the windows that showed the glorious view of the mountains and the forest. She could use a weekend away from the city.

“Swear that you’re not lying to me.” She turned to glare at him.

Griffin held up his hand. “On my honor.”

“All right then.” She stood. “But I don’t want to work on the papers until tomorrow. I want to eat and drink tonight, and not think about that rat bastard.”

“Call him that one more time and I’ll have to spank your ass for cussing.”

“Yeah, right.” She started for the door. “I’ll be back for dinner around six or seven.” She reached for the door handle, and then cried out, “Yow!” when a hard swat landed on her bottom.

She turned to see Griffin standing behind her, a round paddle in his hand. “Do you need to take this with you to remind you to behave at dinner?”

“No thank you,” she said, trying to keep from smiling. Maybe this would be a Friday spanking night after all.

***

Griffin snorted as the door closed. Stan had told him Jett was a handful, and he’d been right. She was also as beautiful as Stan had said, with her mahogany hair and deep brown eyes. She had a pert little nose, and her cheeks puffed up when she was angry, and she had been very angry.

Not that he blamed her. He’d told Stan to tell her the truth and let her find a Dom in Santa Fe. He’d always been of the opinion that a Dom and sub felt an attraction to each other on their own. You could set them up on a date, and hope that they got along, but you couldn’t force it.

Griffin was attracted to her there was no doubt, but Jett certainly didn’t act as if she were attracted to him. Of course that could be because she was angry at Stan. She had every right to be. He thought about calling his friend and letting him know that Jett’s chocolate eyes had a ring of red around them right now, as if fire were burning inside her. But he decided that Stan had made his bed and he could lie in it, to quote a phrase, one that Jett’s grandmother probably would use, albeit inserting a word that could possibly be a swear word.

A laugh bubbled out from deep inside him. He definitely wanted to, possibly, see how things turned out between him and Jett. Perhaps they could be Dom/sub for a while. The distance between them could pose a problem, but he wouldn’t think about that right now.

What he would think about was her upturned bottom over his lap where he would redden it to a beautiful hue.

But he had other things to think about, too. There was a problem that he needed to take care of before dinner tonight. He went to his desk and picked up the receiver.

“Yes, sir?” Nan said when she answered.

“Find Burt and tell him to come to my office ASAP, please,” he said.

Burt arrived about ten minutes later.

“Gather the staff, all the staff, and tell them there is a restraining order against Nick Portland. If they see him tell them not to engage him. Simply call the sheriff’s office and let them handle it. Under no circumstances will anyone say anything to him, or physically assault him. If they do, they’re fired.”

Burt’s head jerked in shock. “Fired?”

“Tell them that, yes,” Griffin said. “I don’t want any trouble with the man. If he feels like he can sue me if someone assaults him I’m up a brown creek without a rowing instrument.”

“You mean shit creek without a paddle?” Burt asked with a laugh.

It took Griffin a moment to realize he’d used something Jett’s grandmother probably would say to keep from cussing.

“Yeah,” Griffin said.

“Whatever, Boss,” Burt said. “Will there be any other euphemisms I need to use?”

“Just do as I ask, and then go play with whoever you’re playing with tonight.”

Burt nodded, but didn’t leave.

Griffin inclined his head. “You have something else to say?”

“Is our new arrival off limits?”

Griffin knew he was talking about Jett.

“For you, yes.”

“Well brown,” Burt said with a laugh, and then he left.

Griffin waited until the door shut before he smiled.