Master of Freedom: A Mountain Masters Novella (Mountain Masters & Dark Haven Book 5)

by Cherise Sinclair

  He set his drink out of reach and took the bottle from her as well. “Do you ever see your parents?”

  “You are one stubborn man.” She pouted for a second. “Daddy never came back. Mama married again about three years ago; I visit now and then.” Her lips twisted down. Hopefully Mama’s relationship would last this time. “They’re in Florida.”

  Atticus’s gaze was on her mouth, then her eyes. “She repeat her crying performance with other men?”

  The insightful question knocked her off-kilter. “I don’t like mind readers.” Gin tried to edge away.

  He laughed and pulled her against him. “Baby, you have an excellent poker face unless you’re drunk. Then you’re an open book.” After kissing the pout off her lips, he said firmly, “Now answer my question, counselor.”

  He was so stubborn. She glanced at the stairs leading from the hot tub.

  His arm tightened around her.

  “She…had trouble. I coaxed her back each time.” From crying fits, from depression.

  “Jesus. Did you get any care at all from your parents?

  “Of course I had care,” Gin said indignantly. “She was a wonderful mother. Loving and fun and…” Her voice trailed off. And then, after the divorce, she hadn’t been. Gin hardly existed to her…except when Mama had hysterics. Clinging and sobbing and repeating over and over, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “And?” He was frowning.

  After her father abandoned them, her mother had been…gone. Ignoring the school papers Gin brought home to be signed, never showing up for any extracurricular activities, not asking about her daughter’s day or troubles or anything. Their roles had reversed. “I grew up at eleven,” she whispered. “They weren’t the best relationship role models, were they?”

  “Not hardly.” Atticus’s hard face showed his understanding.

  Gin puckered her brow. Her glass was empty again. “You know, I tell my clients how knowledge is the first step on the road to change. Pretty easy to say to someone else. Not so easy to do.”

  “We’ll work on that, pet.”

  After pulling Gin out of the tub and into the living room, Atticus settled her on the fur-covered pad in front of the fireplace. Feeling as if he’d run a marathon, he waited for his second wind to kick in.

  But he had an answer or two. Her father—actually both screwed-up parents—had taught Gin that she had to “do” to be seen. To be loved.

  But, although he was finally getting answers, he couldn’t keep the little sub in a hot tub, especially the way she’d reacted to the alcohol. “What did you have for supper?” he asked as he lit the kindling under the logs.

  The firelight picked up the red sparks in her hair and the fading color in her face. “Supper?” Her brow wrinkled. “I didn’t—”

  “Right. Did you happen to eat lunch?” She’d mentioned her job wiped out her appetite.

  The shrug answered his question. “I’ll get us some cheese, then.” When she started to rise, he stopped her with a stern stare. “Stay right there or there will be consequences.”

  She wilted.

  In the kitchen, he smiled. Considering her spirit, he could foresee a future where a threat would result in even brattier behavior, especially if she came to like “consequences.”

  When he returned with a plate of cheese and crackers, she was staring into the fire.

  Down on one knee, he set a glass of water to her lips. “Drink it all, babe.”

  Unusually obedient—or exhausted—she complied. Then he hand-fed her until pink returned to her cheeks.

  Good enough. He needed to continue before the alcohol wore off. Ignoring her protest, he pulled her robe off, then dropped down onto the pad and arranged her on top of him. When her softness covered him, his body untensed, as if something lost had been restored.

  Her irritation already forgotten, she propped her arms up on his chest and smiled down at him. Her gaze was still unfocused. “Did I ever mention how much I love your living room?”

  And he loved seeing her drunk. Next time, though, they’d drink for fun and not shit like this. “Thanks, sweetheart.” With his robe open in the front, they had hot-tub-heated skin against skin.

  Despite her disapproving frown, he felt her hips wiggle. Yeah, chemistry was something they’d never lacked.

  But he had a few remaining facts to get straight. “The breakup with Preston made you realize you were doing the same thing as your mother?”

  “Mmmhmm.” Her lips turned down. “I’m just like her—trying to please a man past the bounds of reasonable. It’s like a sickness. This is why I can’t be with you.”

  “You can’t be with me?” he asked carefully.

  “Don’t you see? When I came over and tried to help you feel better, I got carried away. I’d have done anything for you. I still want to.”

  Finally. Now he knew what had triggered her flight. In fact, he’d set her off himself by teasing her. “You must have worked your ass off.” “Cleaning and fucking and cooking?”

  She’d seen her kindness as an indication she was losing herself.

  He’d been an idiot. She’d tried to explain her reasoning in the parking lot, but he hadn’t listened. Had let his past lead him down a false track.

  He rolled her over, pinned her beneath him, and saw the unhappiness in her eyes. “Baby, do you hear what you’re saying? Do you really believe you have to work your ass off for a guy to sustain a relationship?

  “I—” She bit her lip. “That doesn’t sound right…does it?”

  But she’d nodded before her brain had kicked in. Yep, that was her belief. “Don’t you think you’re lovable just because you’re you?”

  Her baffled gaze made him smile.

  Looks like he had his task cut out for him. But he had a feeling he’d enjoy teaching her this one.

  “Atticus.” Some of her reasoning ability was returning, and she shook her head. “You’re a Dom; you expect to be served. And I’m more like a drug addict who can’t have a taste of her drug—serving you—or I go too far. This thing between us won’t work.”

  “Li’l magnolia.” He twined his fingers with hers to pin her hands over her head. Her pupils dilated as her body responded to the vulnerable position. “I think your service has two opposing mindsets. One—you’re afraid a man won’t love you if you don’t. You with me, so far?”

  She nodded. “Exactly. This is what I’m—”

  “The second frame of mind is different. If you’re submissive, you serve because you love to meet someone’s needs. Especially your Dom’s.”

  Her expression went blank.

  He allowed her a minute, then asked gently, “When you were cooking for me, I saw no anxiety. I saw only pleasure that you could give something beautiful.” He remembered all too clearly, the happiness shining in her eyes as she offered herself in the shower, as she set food on the table and watched him eat. Nothing based in fear could have brought the Dom in him such contentment. “What were you feeling that day, Gin?”

  As she understood what he was saying, her eyes filled with tears, turning the color of a tree-shaded pond. “Joy. I felt joy.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Happy Saturday. Hand on the cart, Gin did a quick dance step down the aisle of the grocery store. This morning with Atticus had been…fun. Light-hearted all the way, starting with shower sex and finishing with cooking breakfast together before he took her back to her car.

  And during the night, as if he’d known how shattered she’d felt, he’d loved her so gently and generously that he’d reduced her to tears a couple of times.

  Tonight, she’d said she wanted to be alone. After an unhappy moment of consideration, he’d agreed.

  She totally needed some time to process everything. How he’d treated her, how exposed she felt when he dug for answers—and the revelations he’d brought forth.

  No wonder she’d been confused by her own behavior—submissive service and neurotic service together made
for a challenge. She shook her head. It would take time to get it all straight, but she darned well would. Hey, she was a counselor.

  Since he was giving her “me” time, Atticus said he’d see her on Sunday—and refusal was not an option.

  She smiled. Refusing hadn’t even crossed her mind.

  Humming a tune and pushing her cart, Gin rounded a corner in the grocery store and stopped in surprise.

  Atticus stood near the bin of oranges.

  Her hand on his chest, a tall, slender brunette stared up into his eyes. “So, what are you doing next weekend, Atticus?”

  Gin’s jaw clamped shut. Don’t touch my man.

  But he wasn’t. Not in any official terms. Not that there’d been any time to discuss it. Were they together together?

  She was afraid to ask.

  To Gin’s relief, Atticus said to the woman, “Sorry, babe. I have plans.” He moved sideways and noticed Gin. “Gin.”

  The woman glanced over her shoulder and gave a sniff. Turning back, she stroked her palm down Atticus’s chest. “You give me a call if you get freed up, darling.” With a blatant swing of her hips, she picked up an orange and sauntered away.

  His gaze didn’t follow her. Instead, Atticus walked over to Gin. “Are you getting something wonderful to cook for me tomorrow?”

  Why didn’t he kiss her? “Of course,” she said in a strained voice. No hug. Nothing.

  Had the woman tempted him? Maybe. They hadn’t agreed to being monogamous or even a relationship. And…her stomach sank. Doms didn’t always follow the same rules that they enforced on their submissives, right?

  “Looks like everyone is shopping for the weekend,” he said. “I saw the Serenity crowd near the meats.”

  “Oh.” With a smothered flinch, Gin resolved to avoid the meat section of the store, even if she needed hamburger and chicken. She hadn’t seen Becca since the scene in the lodge’s parking lot. After getting only a brief nod from Jake when they’d passed on the street, she’d avoided Kallie and Summer and had refused their calls.

  “Something I should know?” Atticus asked softly. She could swear his regard had actual weight.

  “Of course not.” She turned away and hesitated. “Are you… I mean, are we—” She was acting like a teenager. “Would you like to come over tonight? I can cook. Make you a… Would you like steak?” She could pick out a couple of steaks, once the Serenity people were gone, and—

  “Stop.” Mouth tight, he moved forward until she had to tilt her head back to see his face. “Take a deep breath.”

  “What?”

  “What, indeed?” he said gravely. “Gin, did you offer a meal because you love cooking for me or because you’re scared about losing what we have together?”

  “I…I do love cooking for you.” But not tonight. She’d been looking forward to alone time, to doing girly, indulgent stuff and writing in her journal.

  Why had she asked Atticus to come over?

  For pity’s sake, she was an idiot. She closed her eyes, feeling the apprehensive place in her belly, the one that said he didn’t even like her, that he wouldn’t want her unless she filled all his needs.

  And now she was going to burst into tears in the middle of a grocery store. She blinked hard; her breathing turned all wonky.

  “Easy, li’l magnolia.” With firm hands, he pulled her close and wrapped her in determination and warmth. His breath was warm against her ear. “Tell me, baby.”

  “I got scared,” she admitted into his flannel shirt. “That woman was awfully pretty, and you didn’t even touch me, and I thought maybe you didn’t want…me.”

  He made an acknowledging noise, giving her a squeeze. “Got it.” He nuzzled her cheek. “I didn’t know whether a counselor would be comfortable with public displays of affection. After all, you work in the prison here.”

  “Oh.” She sagged against him. Truly, she tended to be fairly reserved, but this was Atticus. “I like when you touch me. Even around other people.”

  “So noted. As for other women, I’m not interested. You take up all my time; I like it that way.”

  A ribbon of happiness swirled through her. “Me too.”

  “Good.” He pulled back. “Little counselor, do you think you can remember how you felt here and recognize it next time?”

  “Yes. Probably… You know, you’d be a very good shrink, Atticus,” she added.

  His growl made her giggle. “Keep it up, baby, and we’ll try some avoidance therapy. A good paddling or—”

  Blushing, she put her hand over his mouth. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t say a thing.”

  Under her palm, his lips quirked. When she took her hand away, he said, “As long as I’m in therapy mode, your homework is to list ways to deal with the anxiety—without resorting to cooking me meals you don’t want to cook.”

  A laugh escaped her. “You talked to Sawyer.”

  “Yep. He mentioned your penchant for list-making exercises. His new counselor has had him continue the practice.” His smile increased. “He shared his last one—the list of what he wants to do when he’s released.” Atticus bent and kissed her tenderly. “Thank you for helping him heal, Gin.”

  She couldn’t speak through the thickness in her throat.

  “However, since you gave me homework as well, consider this revenge.” When he grinned, she remembered how she’d assigned him reading—and list making—to work through his height phobia.

  “Have you been…?”

  His short nod said he was finished with the subject. Instead, he stepped back and swatted her ass. “Now finish shopping. I’ll see you tomorrow the way we’d planned.”

  “Agreed.”

  Smiling, she continued through the store, checking off items. The extra was the package of double-stuffed Oreos, because she darned well deserved chocolate after having a meltdown in a grocery store.

  Two seconds later, she reached the end of the aisle, turned, and ran over a boot. “Oops. Sorry…”

  Her voice trailed off as she stared at Logan. His brother stood behind him.

  Logan nodded briefly.

  Jake said, “Gin.” They stepped out of her way.

  Her head bowed as her heart shriveled two sizes, leaving her chest a mass of emptiness and pain. She wanted to protest that she’d been angry that day in the parking lot. She hadn’t meant she wouldn’t serve Atticus. But at Logan’s dismissive glance, the words wouldn’t come.

  They hated her.

  Before the betraying tears spilled over, she turned her head away and veered to the right. Then stopped.

  No. They might not know she and Atticus had made up. And they were misjudging her; she had a right—a duty—to correct them.

  Her big girl panties were going to give her a wedgie at this rate.

  She turned and put her hands on her hips. “You’re wrong about me, Logan Hunt. You judged me unfairly.”

  Logan turned. After regarding her for a long moment, he closed in on her.

  She barely suppressed a squeak when he settled a hard hand on her shoulder. “Did I?” he asked, his voice flat.

  She pulled in a shaky breath and tried to yank away.

  “Easy, pet. Let’s get this out,” Logan said in a rough voice. “Jake, grab Atticus. I want to talk.”

  “There’s a change,” Jake said. A second later, she heard him call, “Ware. Here.”

  Footsteps heralded Atticus’s approach as she searched for composure. If he saw her upset, he’d get all riled up.

  An arm came around her, yanking her from Logan’s hold. Atticus took her chin in a careful but unyielding grip and lifted her face. His eyes darkened. “What the hell, Hunt?” He pulled her behind his back as if readying for a fight. “What’d you say to her?”

  Her attempt to shake his arm was as futile as moving a granite mountain. “No, Atticus. It was me. I did—”

  “A tiny thing like you couldn’t do anything to give these two assholes grief.” His voice was uncompromising as he stared at the two H
unts.

  Oh, heavens. Where was a testosterone drain when she needed one? “Logan saw our fight in the Serenity parking lot. After you left, I was talking to myself and said no man was worth serving. He heard me.”

  Atticus’s eyes lit with amusement. “I always did like subbies with tempers.” But when he turned to the Hunts, his expression turned black.

  Gin tugged on his arm to recall his attention. “They’re just unhappy with me on your part.”

  “I don’t need big fucking brothers.”

  “You’re together again?” Logan was studying her. “That mouthing off was because you were pissed-off?”

  Atticus shot him a glare. “Like your redhead never says anything she doesn’t mean?”

  “He’s got you there, bro.” Jake turned to Gin, then glanced at Atticus. “Permission?”

  To her dismay, Atticus moved away.

  Jake curled his fingers around her upper arms. His level gaze met hers. “We messed up, Gin. Overreacted. Atticus kept hooking up with selfish submissives, so we goaded him to be with you. When it sounded as if you’d scraped him off because you didn’t want to serve, we figured we steered him wrong.” A corner of his mouth kicked up ruefully. “And blamed you, of course.”

  Oh. Of course they did. The bands of tension around her chest released. “I understand,” she said softly.

  “Not sure I do,” Atticus grumbled.

  She elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. “Oh, you get it. You were much nastier when you were defending your brother.”

  “Shit,” he said under his breath. “Got me there, magnolia.” He glanced at the Hunts. “I appreciate the way you got my back”—he smirked—“against a half-pint.”

  Logan winced, then took Jake’s place. The sincere regret in his face eased her heart. “I’m sorry, sugar, for putting those tears in your eyes.”

  “Forgiven.” At his obvious relief, she could only smile. Atticus was lucky to have such loyal friends.

  “I’ll tell Becca,” Logan said. “Be the first time I have gossip before she does.”

  As the Hunts moved away, Gin glanced up at Atticus. He was watching her gravely.