Travis asked her how she liked her coffee and then got up from the couch and moved around in the kitchen, preparing mugs of coffee.
Turning to Hank, Veronica asked, “Hank, do you think you’ve always been a Dom? Do you think that Dominance is somehow in your genetic makeup?”
Hank ran his fingers through his hair, obviously trying to figure out the best way to answer. She wished he’d speak without self-editing but then his answer surprised her.
“Have you always been a writer?”
She gazed into his eyes and the smile on her face reflected the one he gave her when understanding lit up in her mind. “Yes. I have. Even before I knew how to write, I think I was. Growing up, I would see the story in everything. My imagination has always been more…”
“Vivid?”
He took her breath away with the understanding in his eyes. “Yes. I’ve always felt as if everything was coming at me as this huge extrasensory experience. Sometimes that meant that I couldn’t understand why others didn’t react the way I did. I just…felt everything so powerfully. But it also meant I ran with a lot of those feelings and got called a drama queen and a daydreamer.”
“Because you’d get so caught up in all of it.”
“Yes. I’d play games of ‘what if’ with myself and lose track of time. And if I tried to explain myself and what I was thinking I got funny looks or was teased.”
He chuckled softly. “I can imagine you doing that. Did you get in trouble?”
“Sometimes. More than a few of my teachers called me a daydreamer. When they mentioned that in my progress reports and report cards, my parents saw that as a negative. They wanted me to be a straight-A student and do well in college so I could become a part of the family business, ranching.”
Hank picked up her hand and played with her fingers as he glanced at her. “You don’t strike me as the ranching type, Nika. No offense.”
It was nice that he understood that about her. “None taken. I love being here on the ranch and didn’t mind growing up on one, but it’s not the career endeavor for me that it is for my parents and my brothers and sister. So you think you’ve been a Dom your whole life?”
“Well, not in the sexual sense. That didn’t come until later, but I’ve had Dominant traits my whole life.”
“Most notably?”
“The need to protect, guide, and inspire trust. I know that sounds kind of lofty, but there are too many assholes in my line of work who get a badge and a gun and suddenly discover an overinflated ego. They want that job because of the power rush. I’m not in this profession to make myself feel important. I hold it so other people will feel safe, so their lives are better and they’re happy. I think those qualities are also needed by my sub.”
“I thought you didn’t have a sub.” She wanted to Hoover the pouty-sounding words as soon as they came out of her mouth.
Hank chuckled quietly and she noted Travis’s interest in the topic by the twinkle in his eyes as he handed her a steaming mug of coffee. It felt odd to be served by him.
“No, I don’t have a sub. I was speaking in general terms. I’m a public servant and it would be difficult to keep that kind of relationship quiet. At least, I haven’t met a woman yet who didn’t tell secrets to her girlfriends. I have to maintain my constituents’ trust.”
“Do you think holding the position you do satisfies some of those needs?”
“The nonsexual needs, yes, probably. As far as the women I’ve dated are concerned, my habits are as vanilla as they come. I’ve never found a submissive whose wants and needs complemented my own enough to make it worth risking the negative exposure.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is that something you want very much?”
“Would you be happy if you couldn’t write?”
She understood exactly what he meant. “I’d feel like a part of me was missing…amputated. Is that how you feel?”
Hank nodded. “Like a part of me is missing. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack when the haystack is full of posers, wannabes, and psychos—on both sides of the issue. Doms and subs are understandably wary. A lot of men with a pushy personality seem to think they’re Doms and wind up with disastrous results. It’s not like how it is in books. The right Dom/sub combination can take years to find each other and sometimes it never happens.” Veronica heard the quiet longing in his words and tried to focus on her questions but there was a part of her that was reaching out to him, wanting to soothe the ache in his voice.
“From research, I know there are a lot of ways practitioners approach Dominance and submission, and BDSM. Where are you in the spectrum?”
Hank suddenly grinned and she felt the flush creep up her neck and a giggle fluttered inside her.
“Are you asking where I stand on the whips and chains?”
The levity finally burst forth and she didn’t mind when her cheeks warmed. “Yes, I am.”
Hank chewed his lower lip for a second then said, “I enjoy having the reins firmly in my hands—whether that means safeguarding a sub’s health, delivering a spanking, or the occasional whipping. I say reins figuratively, Nika. I don’t own any leather apparel, either. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”
Veronica shook her head vigorously. “It doesn’t.”
Travis smirked. “Now I’m picturing you in leather. Thanks for that.”
The three of them laughed and the tension in the room dropped to a more manageable level for her.
“Honestly, Hank, I had a hard time imagining you like that. I don’t think you need it, but I…”
Hank sat forward and looked into her eyes. “Tell me.”
“I’d love to see you in your Sheriff’s uniform and…your hat.” Even the mental image got her a little wet.
Hank smiled broadly and said, “I guarantee you’re going to have plenty of opportunities to see me in my uniform.”
“I am?”
“You are, Nika. More questions?”
“Yes, this one may seem odd, and if you’re uncomfortable answering it, I’ll understand.”
“Shoot.”
“What scares you most?”
He barely hesitated before speaking. “A couple of years ago, someone new moved to Divine. Actually, she wasn’t new to the area. She’d been born here and then her family moved away when she was a kid. Her name is Lily. She returned to the area as an adult. She didn’t know it at the time but she was in dire need of medical attention.”
“She was? What happened?”
“While driving into town, she was looking for a safe place to pull over and she passed out behind the wheel. Crashed into Clay Cook’s jewelry storefront. Shattered a plate glass window and did damage to her car. I was on the scene a couple minutes later along with one of the town doctors, and she was rushed to the emergency room where she was diagnosed with internal bleeding due to a medical condition and injuries she’d received from her abusive bastard husband. She’d caught him cheating on her and he hurt her. While she was recovering in the hospital, he came to Divine to collect her.”
Veronica was horrified. “He did?”
Oh, please let this story have a happy ending!
“She’d already notified us, and the hospital, that she’d fled from him and their abusive marriage earlier that day. They called me as soon as he showed up.”
Veronica could imagine this big man championing that poor hurt woman and she wanted to hug him until his eyes bulged from their sockets. “What happened?”
“We tried reasoning with him. He told me that Lily was not only his wife but his sub. He said that he dominated her and she submitted to him. His demeanor and the way he said it told me what I needed to know. We had to physically restrain him from going after her and wound up arresting him for disorderly conduct and disturbing the peace. He left and swore he’d be back.”
“Oh. Did he come back?”
“Yes, but in the interim Lily divorced him and found what she was looking for in Divine. She’s now happily married to Clay Cook and his brother, Del.”
“The man who owns the jewelry store she wrecked her car into?”
“Yes. They’d all known each other since they were kids and they wound up falling in love. Anyway, the abusive bastard returned to Divine. Without going into all the details, I’ll tell you he tricked Lily into coming to him. We got a tip from Seth Carter, who you met at Maizy’s wedding. He happened to see them together and could tell something was wrong. The bastard knocked her out and tied her down in the bed of his pickup, with an electrical storm brewing, knowing that she has a lightning phobia.”
“He
what
? Tied her down?”
“Yes, with wire, to eyebolts he’d installed for that purpose. His plan had been to kidnap her, terrorize her with the storm on the long drive home, and take her back to his mobile home, which he’d retrofitted with shackles and chains. He’d planned to chain her up and make her his slave, so she’d never get away again. There’s more to the story, which is more personal for her. If you ever get to know her, I’m sure you could ask her about it, but suffice it to say, this shithead believed that he owned her, body and soul.”
“What happened?”
“We caught up to him. He pulled a gun and I shot him.” He watched her intently.
“Dead?”
“Dead.”
“Good.”
“It was by no means easy to take another’s life, even though it was in self-defense. I did what needed doing.” Hank smiled and rubbed her knee with his knuckles. “So when you ask me what I’m most scared of, I’d have to say not being there for someone who needs me, and winding up losing that person.” His level gaze held hers and she nodded. “Now, since I answered such a personal question, I get to ask you a personal question, Nika.”
From anyone else, the words would have set her on edge, but she knew she’d tell him what he wanted to know even before he asked. “What’s your question?”
“What do you need most?”
Chapter Six
Travis watched as she squeezed her hands together. Talking about herself made her uncomfortable. He recalled the visible anxiety he’d seen her dealing with before the wedding and at the club. Her lack of sleep probably made that worse.
She looked between the two of them and said, “To be important.” Her words were soft, embarrassed in the quiet room.
Hank sat back and his eyebrows rose. “You mean to be on the
New York Times
Best Sellers list? Or to sell a million copies of your latest book?”
She shook her head and frowned. “I don’t care about either of those things. Best seller lists and royalties are great. They make it possible for me to do what I love. What I’m talking about is being important to
someone
. Knowing that my presence or absence means something to someone.”
“You mean in a relationship?” Travis asked, thinking he understood. “You feel starved for acceptance from those closest to you, don’t you? Earlier, you said you are an underachiever in a family of social overachievers, meaning you feel you don’t fit in there. You talked about being close to Cord and Jackson but you rarely see them. And then there’s Grandma Kate, but you rarely see her. Your life is spent writing and online. You’re starving, Nika.”
Her eyes took on a faraway quality. “I don’t mean to sound pathetic. I need to be wanted for myself. Not for what I write, or how much money I make, or who I know. Just for who I am. I want to know I’m…enough to someone.”
Hank got up from the couch and gestured toward the stereo receiver in the entertainment system. “You mind if I turn on some music?”
“No, but I don’t know how any of that equipment works.” Travis thought that was interesting considering that she’d been there nearly a week. He had an inkling that she felt she shouldn’t touch it.
“That’s okay. I can figure it out.” Hank glanced at him with a smile and tuned the radio to a country station. Thomas Rhett’s “It Goes Like This” was playing as he adjusted the volume, so they could still talk, and returned to the couch.
They each took one of her hands and Hank lifted her knuckles to his lips. “I’m willing to answer all the questions you have, Nika, but I have one more for you.”
“I’m supposed to be interviewing you,” she whispered softly as Hank scooted closer to her. Her breathing became ragged as she moved back against the couch, her eyes riveted on his lips, and then she turned her gaze to Travis. She didn’t look hunted or scared to him. Her pupils were dilated and her cheeks were filled with beautiful color.
Travis whispered as he came closer, too. “Is this an interview? Really? Is information all you want? Or do you want more? I sense this goes beyond clinical curiosity for you.”
She whispered, “I need to know.”
Hank circled her wrist with his fingertips, gently entrapping her. Anticipation flared inside Travis at her gasp and the look of pure need in her eyes. Hank said, “Really know? Or do you just want me to recommend books for you to read, or get you in touch with a munch group, or do you want to hear about the subs I’ve known—”
She cut him off. “I don’t want to know about any of your subs—” It obviously bothered her to think of women willingly submitting to Hank. “I want to know…”
Hank tilted her chin so she couldn’t look away from him. “Do you want to be dominated, Nika? Is that why you were with Brent? You thought he was a Dom?”