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Chapter 2
“So good to see you again, honey,” Loretta said. “That’s smart—enjoy the area before the tourists invade.”
I chuckled and finished my last piece of cake right there at the register in her shop. She always kept one of those cakes in her freezer for when I stopped by. The town knew her as the lovely lady who had an answer for every question. If you were lost, if you were looking for recommendations, if you wanted a wildlife guide, if you wanted to fish or hunt, you came to Loretta’s souvenir shop on Main Street.
She lived in the flat above the shop and missed having someone to dote on. Luckily, she had a handful of grandkids—and me, when I was in town.
This cake. Fucking hell. Some sort of dense, rich Bundt cake with vanilla and cardamom. With a sugar-butter crust on top.
“I’m not saying I’ll be back tomorrow, but…” Chef’s kiss. I slid the empty plate and fork over the counter.
She laughed softly. “Don’t you worry—there’s more in the freezer.”
I grinned and pretended to clutch my heart. “You’re the only woman for me, Loretta.”
She found that funny. “Oh, get out of here. I hope your brother answers the phone now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I chuckled.
The bell above the door dinged as I stepped out, and I walked right into the phone booth for the second time in twenty minutes.
Arden couldn’t avoid me forever. I knew he was at Clara Hill. He had to be. He even worked from there these days, despite he had his old office in Pittsburgh.
In another life, maybe I would’ve been part of the group who’d bought the old estate. It was certainly beautiful. They had a few acres all to themselves, with Clara Hill at the center. I loved to visit in the autumn. When the forest around them was ablaze in reds and oranges.
On the other hand, I’d never been a big fan of dog and pony shows, and Clara Hill took BDSM communities to a whole new level. The members who dedicated themselves to it actually lived on the estate twenty-four seven.
I’d once introduced Arden to BDSM, and he’d gone all in. He’d never been interested in coming with me to smaller clubs and get-togethers. He wanted the lifestyle.
“Answer, you fucking—” I stopped and huffed a breath. He was gonna try to dodge me altogether, wasn’t he? He wasn’t daft. He would know I’d come for him.
Then, fucking finally, I heard his voice.
“Arden Sinclair speaking.”
“You absolute knob—why would you give my information to Danny Rose? Are you dead from the neck up, mate?”
“Ah, big brother. I was waiting for you to call.”
“Then you should’ve waited closer to the phone,” I growled.
He chuckled. “I take it he paid you a visit at the cabin.”
“Paid me a visit?” I echoed incredulously. “He ambushed me when I arrived with the twins.”
That was somehow even funnier to my brother. “Amazing. I’ve only met the boy once, and I’m already an admirer.”
The boy.
I didn’t understand Arden sometimes, which was how it’d been all our lives. Nine times out of ten, he was calm, predictable, methodical, and composed. Then there was that tenth time. It was how he’d once ended up taking a sabbatical in Spain, how he’d joined the Army, how he’d started a kink community, and how they now had a sanctuary on their grounds for exotic pets that’d been released into the wild.
It became my problem when the pet was Danny Rose and the wild was my property.
“So you met face-to-face,” I stated. “Tell me he came to your office in Pittsburgh.”
“Nope. He knocked on the door right here.”
At Clara fucking Hill.
