Steele Clips: A Compromising Position

by Lila Munro

  “Trust me. I intend to.” Connor looked like someone had stabbed him for a split second then he dropped his hand and moved away from her, looking at her critically as if trying to read her thoughts. “I’ll get dressed,” he said and disappeared into the bedroom.

  A half-hour later, Jodi was at the wheel of her Camaro driving up the main drag toward their favorite diner. The diner where they’d begun their relationship outside the club, where Connor had asked her to marry him, where she’d asked him for a divorce.

  “I would’ve driven,” he said, running his palms along his denim clad thighs.

  “What? And deny me showing off my new car to all of Fayetteville?” Jodi teased. The fact was she liked to drive and it’d always been a source of contention between them. While Connor was as submissive as they came in the bedroom, he was a gentleman’s gentleman when it came to stepping on the other side of the door. “Do they still have that killer pecan encrusted chicken salad with the bourbon dressing?”

  “Hell if I know. Last time I was there I was having the hangover special.” Connor pushed his sunglasses up and rubbed his still blood shot eyes.

  “How yummy,” she said, her stomach lurching at the thought of a pile of greasy hash browns loaded with bacon, peppers, and onions topped with two eggs sunny slathered in sawmill gravy all drizzled with a healthy dose of Louisiana Hot Sauce. “And how long ago was that?”

  “A couple of days ago,” he admitted, flipping his glasses back down.

  “You’re not having it today. Aside from the fact you need something in you besides junk and booze, my disposition can’t take it.” Signaling to turn left into the tiny parking lot of the even smaller diner, Jodi chanced a look at him to find his face was a blank canvas. She’d never had an issue with reading Connor to an extent before, but hell if she could guess what he was thinking now.

  A few minutes later they were seated in the furthest corner of the diner where Connor reached up and twisted the shade shut against the blinding rays of the afternoon sun. Only then did he push his glasses atop his head and snatch the one page, laminated menu which had seen better days. It was in that moment, while he had his head bent, Jodi noticed Connor had seen better days as well. As much as she’d looked at him since this morning, it was only then evidence of life and age weighing heavy on the man became as clear as crystal.

  Dark circles surrounded his road-mapped eyes, bags really, and tiny lines shot out from the corners of them. One thin wrinkle crossed his forehead disappearing into his graying hairline and the dents bracketing his lips were deeper than she remembered, indicative he’d been smoking on the sly again, heavily if she had to guess. Was it just his last mission or was something else going on?

  “Want to talk about it?” she asked, glancing at the back of the menu to find the fall salad she loved was indeed gone, replaced by a winter variety.

  Bed of mixed greens with dried cranberries, candied walnuts, sweet pickled red onion, Maytag bleu cheese, topped with a sage and herb encrusted chicken…

  “Is that a loaded question?” Connor said, sounding like he was attempting to make light of it, but failing miserably.

  “No. You know I’m a straight shooter. So shoot it. What the fuck is going on?” Jodi demanded, stuffing the menu back between the sugar dispenser and napkin holder. “Is it just the mission or is something else wrong?”

  Connor took a long, deep breath and before he had a chance to answer their waitress popped up with an almost too cheery smile on her face.

  “Oh, looks like someone had a rough night,” she prodded, looking at Connor with the eyes of a groupie and Jodi could almost hear the girl’s mouth water.

  “We certainly did,” Jodi answered with a bite, something in her chest clenching until it ached. “He needs a pot coffee, no creamer. I need a pitcher of unsweetened tea, lemon wedges on the side, and give us a few minutes if you don’t mind, sunshine.”

  The girl’s mouth created a perfect O and her eyes shot wide. She shook her head once, worked the O couple of times looking like a fish out of water then puckered her lips, turned on her heel, and trotted away.

  “That was just about the rudest damn thing I’ve seen you do in a while,” Connor said, his jaw ticking.

  “Are you tapping that?” she asked, pointing to the little tart as she made her way around the service counter a frown on her face. “Is she even legal?”

  “What the hell do you care?” he said with indifference as he picked up his spoon and picked at God knew what on the back of it before waving it in Miss Tart’s direction indicating he needed a new one. “And that wasn’t all I was talking about. I’m a big boy and can order for myself. Jesus, Jodi, can’t you ever let go?”

  “Yes, you just can’t accept how or when,” she argued, not liking the course their day was already taking.

  “If you don’t want to be here, just say so. I didn’t ask you to come. I was fine before you showed up and I’m sure I’ll be fine if you go back to your world, because the truth of it is, your world is all that matters to you anyway. You can’t see far enough past your own nose to see what’s right in front of you,” Connor spewed.

  Jodi shook her head trying to wrap it around what the hell he was getting at exactly. She knew it had to do with more than his current state that was for damn sure.

  “For the record, you’re not fine. And I don’t hear you saying no to me being here, telling me to leave. Is that what you want? For me to go back to Lejeune?”

  “No. I want to you stay,” he said, his eyes speaking more than his mouth was.

  “I…Connor?”

  He took her hands in his and squeezed then turned loose as Miss Tart set down a pot of steaming, black as pitch, nutty smelling java, sans smile.

  “I’ll bring your tea in a minute, ma’am,” she said, fumbling with her order pad. “I didn’t want to further fuck up your day and bring the wrong brand or strength. Would that be caffeinated or decaf?” A bright toothy smile spread across her face which didn’t touch her eyes.

  Jodi wondered what she looked like when she faked an orgasm, because if her pretend Barbie smile was any indication, she surely didn’t fool any man with her God-baby-you-just-sent-me-to-the-moon face.

  “Decaf,” Connor said before Jodi had a chance. “And she’ll have the winter salad, dressing on the side, but start her with an order of fried pickles, horseradish sauce. I’d like the chicken fried chicken plate, heavy on the gravy, an extra biscuit, and bring me a side salad with buttermilk dressing so I’m not accused of avoiding my vegetables, please, Tracey.” He looked across the table with an edge of smugness that would have sliced a weaker woman to the core then grinned and spoke again, his eyes never leaving Jodi’s. “And, sugar, bring the hot sauce.”

  “Sure,” she said, scribbling away then turned to Jodi. “Would you like the balsamic dressing or the warm vinaigrette?”

  “The vinaigrette,” Jodi answered, her cheeks warming. “Thank you. Tracey.”

  Chapter Five

  Jodi watched Connor’s face closely early that evening as another of his team mates joined them at their table. Drake O’Malley picked his way through the club on his crutches, his very pregnant wife close behind taking advantage of the space he opened up by his mere presence as people parted and let him pass. Connor’s expression was a mixture of respect, pity, hurt, and…envy? What was he envious of? His team mate was laid up, unable to do his job.

  When Drake and Meg finally made it to the back of the room, Connor popped up and pulled out a chair, offering it to the man then helping his waddling wife into the chair next to Jodi. “Meg, you look great, honey,” he said, planting a kiss on her very plump cheek, no doubt a result of her condition. “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

  “Stop hitting on my wife, bro.” Drake poked Connor in the side with the tip of one of his crutches, amusement etched all over his face. “She’s not in the mood. She’s never in the mood,” he finished, more to himself than the rest of those present.
>
  “Shut your mouth, Drake,” Meg snarled. “It’s your fault I’m not in the mood.” She rubbed her belly with one hand and pushed her hair behind her ear with the other then grabbed Jodi’s hand. “Oh, feel that.” Her face lit up and her eyes glowed. “He’s been running a foot race all day. He’s going to give his daddy and me a run for our money.”

  “A boy? What’s his name?” Jodi asked, amazed at the fluttering against her palm, wanting to keep it there, but wondering how long was appropriate to have her hands on another woman’s belly.

  “Aspen,” Meg said, patting Jodi’s hand when she tried to pull away and looking at her, a reassurance it was more than okay to keep touching.

  “Aspen,” she repeated, still marveling at the baby’s kicking. “I like it. He’ll be a very strong little guy.”

  “Yeah, and if he’ll stay put longer than his sister did that’d be great.”

  “How is Willow?” Jodi asked as an emotion she couldn’t readily identify settled across her heart and something tugged at her to look Connor’s way. When she did, she came closer to knowing, but it was a bit muddled with guilt and jealousy. “Growing like a weed probably.”

  “Getting into everything,” Drake interjected. “Curious as hell and since she found out she could walk and climb, well, God help us all. I’m already picking out my baseball bat to set next to the door when she turns twelve.”

  “Really? Caveman much, darling?” Meg looked at him, mischief filling her gaze. “And just what if Willow comes home with another you, or worse, one of your friends? And are you prepared to whack the girls with a bat as well when Aspen comes of age?”

  “I’ve told you if you’d bust that ass with a paddle, she wouldn’t be such a smart mouth,” Micah piped up, rubbing his palms together. “Sometimes a hand just isn’t quite enough. If you need any lessons I’d be happy to oblige.”

  “Shut the hell up, Micah Williams.” Meg directed her gaze at the man. “I’d think you’d have enough problems with my sister, Ani, to be worrying about what everyone else’s issues might be. By the way, just where is she anyway?” Her eyebrows shot up and a knowing look crossed her face.

  That seemed to drive Micah back to minding his own business and he clenched his jaw. “I thought maybe you could tell me,” he finally said.

  “Not a chance,” Meg answered full of fire.

  “Figures. You Newman girls are all alike,” Micah retorted, standing. “Stick together thicker than thieves.”

  “Hey, what goes around circles back, my man,” Drake defended his wife. “Remember once upon a time when I was desperate to find Meggie? I sure as hell wasn’t getting any help from you. Or you.” He pointed at Connor as Micah started to walk away. “Was that totally necessary?” he asked Meg, his eyes following Micah until he disappeared into the play room.

  “I think we need beers,” Connor offered, standing and motioning for Drake to do the same. “Ladies, need anything?”

  “Water,” Jodi answered. “And water for you, too, if you expect to get lucky later.”

  “Well, fuck,” Drake mumbled, pushing up and hobbling off behind Connor.

  “I’m really glad you came up,” Meg offered once the men had departed. “Aside from Connor needing someone to jerk him out of his funk, I really needed a woman to talk to other than my sisters, who insist I should stay on the couch all day long with my feet up lest I go into early labor again. Good, God. And poor Drake. He needs to heal up and go back to work. I used to worry myself sick about him being gone, but to be perfectly honest, he’s a pain in my ass being home all the damn time. Where’s the middle ground?”

  “I’m not sure I’m the one to be talking to about pregnancy or marriage,” Jodi admitted. “Or middle ground for that matter.”

  “How long were you two married?” Meg twisted in her seat and scooted down running her hands between the small of her back and chair and rubbing.

  “Ten years.”

  “What happened?”

  “We couldn’t find middle ground.”

  “And where is middle ground?” Meg pried.

  “Somewhere between me being his Top and being his wife.”

  “And right now that line rides alongside you being his Top doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Jodi answered, looking down, knowing damn well no matter how powerful it made her feel to top Connor, being slighted as his wife made her feel less than a woman.

  “You know,” Meg whispered. “I’ll tell you a little secret my sister Tari told me. Those two lines shouldn’t run parallel. They should bisect. You’re the one in charge. Make him do what he needs to so you feel like his cherished wife, not his adored Domme all the time. Surely to God, you of all people, so intelligent, can figure out how to bottom a man from the top.”

  “And just how would your sister have figured this out?” Jodi asked, crossing her legs and picking at some invisible spot on her hose.

  “She’s like you. She’s a switch.” Meg smiled and winked. “Plus it helps she’s a couple’s therapist specializing in the lifestyle. If you want, I can set you up with a family discount.”

  Jodi shook her head and smiled. “Thank you, but I have an aversion to mind pickers.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. If you change your mind, let me know. She’s a hoot to shop with by the way.” The girl adjusted again and pushed a palm against her side. “Get him the hell out of here. Go to his place. Away from all this and everyone. This is not the place to try to put a train back on the rails. Too many prying eyes, too many opinions floating around.”

  “So, does Willow understand about getting a brother?” Jodi switched gears and loudly enough she figured Meg would clue in the men were returning and she wanted to move on.

  “Um, oh, not really.” She crinkled her nose and grinned. “Guess she’ll learn and quick when Mommy has a starving boy attached to her breast half the day and night.”

  “You breast feed?” Jodi asked, glancing at Connor as he set her Fiji down and took his seat. She noticed he was drinking a glass of what had better be straight up juice.

  “She sure does,” Drake answered before Meg had the chance. “It’s sexy as hell.”

  “Don’t worry,” Connor said, saluting Jodi with her glass. “Straight up OJ. I might need my potassium later.”

  “Oh, you’re going to need more than potassium,” Jodi assured him. “Drink up and go clean out our room. There’s been a change of plans and we’re going to your house.”

  Connor chuckled and set his glass down.

  “I’m serious,” she said in her firmest Domme voice. “Now.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Connor presented himself in the foyer of the club where Jodi was busy shrugging into her jacket. “Where are you parked?” she asked, flipping her hair out of her collar, snatching her purse from the security guard, and heading out the door without a backward glance.

  “Along the fence,” Connor said, pointing toward his raised up Ford F-250.

  “Good, you’re driving.” Jodi wasted no time in trotting off as fast as she could in her thigh boots toward his vehicle.

  “I…what?” he asked, his footsteps catching up to hers.

  “You’re driving,” she said, stopping at the passenger’s door.

  “Okay? You feeling alright, babe?” With one heft, he tossed their bags in the bed then dug his keys out of his front pocket.

  “Fine.”

  “Right. And the sky’s purple,” Connor said, opening the door for her and helping her in the cab which was a reach for her in spite of her height. “We’ve known each other since we were nineteen. I’d hardly describe fine as a qualifier right now.” With her seated, he shut her door and made his way around to climb behind the wheel. “So spill it. Why the sudden change in attitude? What the hell did Meg say to you anyway?”

  “Okay. I’m not entirely fine.” Jodi tugged her skirt down and avoided Connor’s gaze. Not that it mattered, it barely covered her ass anyway and he titled his head with her every move
until she was forced to look at him. “She told me about Tari…”

  “Oh, Christ,” he grumbled, starting the truck with a low rumbling growl and backing up. “You didn’t buy into that head pickin’ mumbo-jumbo bullshit did you? Tell me you didn’t make us an appointment with her or some fucking shit.”

  “No, I didn’t for your information,” she spouted. “But what Meg did have to say about Tari and her advice jump started my thinking mechanism. I said last night you got a pass. Not. Tonight. Tonight we talk.”

  “It’s about damn time. This thing’s been festering for too long as it is and quite frankly, I’m sick of things the way they are.”

  “Ditto.”

  As if deciding the conversation would hold at least another few minutes, Connor reached down and cranked the southern rock mix play list on the stereo to blasting and stared straight ahead into the darkness which almost shimmered with the bite of winter hanging in it. Jodi figured it was for the best and hoped he kept his mouth shut the rest of the way to his house. Quite frankly the urge to purge had overcome her so quickly and completely, she could use the extra time to collect her rational thoughts and discard the ones which might give Connor the impression she was desperate and actually did want him back instead of just altering the rules by which they played.

  Who was she kidding? She was and she did.

  Chapter Six

  After Connor backed into his drive in anticipation of snow Jodi assumed as the sky had turned slate after lunch and had been threatening it all afternoon, he hopped down then helped her out. Without a word, he snatched their bags from the truck bed and marched to his front door, keys hanging from his teeth. He dropped his bag to the porch floor with a thud, worked with the lock a moment before it gave way, then pushed the door open motioning for her to go in first.

  With her teeth clacking together from the mind-numbing cold which seeped into her bones through her flimsy playwear, Jodi stepped inside, greeted with an almost equally chilly temperature.