“It’s just a local thing,” I explained. “It’s not like I’m planning on hitting the circuit or anything.”
“Yet.”
“Your word, not mine.”
“So, what are your words?” he asked. “Are you getting bored here already?”
“Haven’t been here long enough to be bored,” I replied. “And I’ve enjoyed sitting in for practice sessions with the service subs as they polish their bootblacking skills. Some of them are well on their way to truly making an art form out of it. I’m looking forward to seeing Payne in action with his kit. Been making sure to get my boots extra dusty too, just so he’ll have to work to get them polished.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed your leather collection growing,” he replied. “You know what else I noticed?”
“What?”
“Your crafty way of trying to change the subject.”
And busted again.
Might as well try for three. “It said in the file that our guest loves animals and hopes to visit the petting zoo as well as enjoy both outdoor play and indoor game and movie nights.”
“So basically, he wants a whole domestic living, slice-of-life kind of vibe, with loads of praise and attention,” Thorin declared. “Sounds almost like a vacation for us, when you really think about it.”
“It says that most of his comic strips feature animals and that some are truly risqué and a big hit within the kink community. I’d love to see what he thinks of the goats, especially Clancy. One errant crow and that poor goat will faint dead away and probably wind up immortalized in one of Payne’s comic strips. We should take him down to meet them and the rest of the critters once he settles in. That way we’re ticking off an experience right from the jump.”
“Okay, we’ll go with that and then play it by ear from there,” he said. “And I’d still like to know what the deal is with the Bull and Barrel Bash.”
That was Thorin. Stubborn. Tenacious. I’d known him more than half of my life; I knew better than to try and slip things past him. We had this weird sort of together thing going on that sort of worked, and sort of didn’t, depending on what day it was and which of us you asked. We scened together. We scened separately. But we never had sex with anyone else unless the other was there. We’d always worked better with a third in the mix, but finding one who fits both of our needs had never been easy. We’d only had two who’d worked out long term and that last one had nearly destroyed our relationship.
Several bolts, a few more screws, and the chains to connect the swing to the base were all attached before I worked out how to answer his question.
“It’s just for fun,” I said. “To see if I’ve still got it.”
“Why? You have nothing to prove.”
“It’s not about proving anything. Just finding out one way or another.”
“And again, I ask why?” he pressed. “Because to me, saying you want to find out ‘one way or another’ means you’re giving consideration to the possibilities that open up if you can.”
Intense, that was the only way to describe the way he was studying me, his storm-gray eyes threatening a hurricane if I didn’t diffuse the situation quickly. Too bad I’d never been good at diffusing anything when it came to him. Most days, I was too busy winding him up so he would break into his sexy Dom voice and go all growly on me.
“It’s nothing, Thor, seriously. You are reading way too much into it,” I finally said.
“Am I?”
“Yeah, you truly are. If I were fully committed to doing it, I’d have mailed everything in by now. I’m still on the fence, and even if I wasn’t, I have no intention of doing anything beyond that one event,” I grumbled. “Haven’t you ever considered getting back on a bull again?”
A rueful chuckle was his only response at first, along with a crooked finger to get me to come over to the side he was working on and hold the end up while he finished tightening the bolts that secured the washer to the wood.
“I doubt any doctor will let me,” he replied. “I’m shocked they’re letting you.”
“It’s conditional.”
“And what would those conditions be?”
“That if I get wrecked again, I’m done,” I replied. “No ifs, ands, or buts. So yeah, I’m thinking about one more ride while I’m still being allowed to. I’m seriously not thinking any further ahead than that.”
With the final turn of the wrench, we had one swing down and one more to go. With their concrete anchors, the swings wouldn’t go anywhere, even in the worst storms, and they were built big enough to fit three comfortably, though I could picture a few of the Littles dragging a blanket into one and curling up for a nap.
“Seeing you get carted off the way you did sealed the deal for me,” he admitted. “I expected it to be worse. Blew up every contact I still had trying to see if they knew how you were doing.”