Protector: Doms of Mountain Bend Book 1 by BJ Wane (reading books for 7 year olds .txt) 📗

work and their evening down time aside for time with a willing submissive.

After getting through their rebellious stage without the Coopers giving up on them, he, Clayton, and Dakota had left to attend college, remembering what it was like to be a victim. For Shawn, whose father had taught him to always stand up for the underdog, choosing a career in law enforcement had been easy. But he’d come to love the ranch just as much, which made it difficult to choose between the two. As deputy sheriff, he enjoyed more time off, fewer responsibilities, and less stress, leaving him able to work both jobs.

His thoughts switched gears as he drove by the spot where he’d changed Lisa Halldor’s tire. Shawn didn’t care for puzzles, and the tugs on his memory banks the schoolteacher kept prompting were bugging the heck out of him. If he didn’t know better, he would think she was the same girl he’d rescued all those years ago. Since the odds of that were on par with winning the lottery, he discounted that possibility as soon as it popped up. Father Joe would have given him notice if that were the case. There’s no way the priest had forgotten how he’d pestered him for information about the frail child who had clung to him with such trust.

As Shawn pulled in front of his home, Clayton drove up behind him in his Bronco, dashing his hopes of coming up with a work excuse to delay pulling his weight at the club. Sliding out of the cruiser, he gave himself a mental kick for the selfish idea and jerked a thumb toward the front door as Clayton joined him.

“Come on in. It won’t take me long to get ready.”

“We have time. I finished early today, but you were still out.” A satisfied grin creased Clayton’s tan face, revealing the dimples women loved. “Nailed the son of a bitch with a ten-year mandatory sentence. Fuck, but winning is good.”

“I pity the poor person whose circumstances should grant them leniency but they end up with you on their case. You’re a cold bastard in the courtroom.”

Clayton possessed a ruthless, unforgiving streak when it came to lawbreakers. He’d never forgiven the courts for letting the drunk driver who had smashed into his parent’s car, killing them instantly while leading the cops on a high-speed chase, walk free on a technicality. As a prosecutor, he never acknowledged gray areas by offering a plea bargain or reduced sentence.

His grin turned wicked as he replied, “I save my warm, good nature for those sweet submissives. They love me.”

Shawn sent him a wry look as they entered the cabin. “Until you dump them. I thought I heard last week they have a bet going on regarding who can hold your attention the longest.”

“Cool. I can have some fun with that. Don’t you ever tire of all this wood?” he questioned, looking around the log walls and wood ceiling.”

“Don’t you ever tire of the industrial look?” Shawn didn’t know what Clayton found appealing about open duct work and the modern iron and brick décor of his home.

“Can’t say I do, not yet, anyway. Hey, there. You going to let me pet you today?” Clayton squatted down and held a hand out to the dogs as they rose from their beds but stayed out of reach.

“Mo, Curly, come.” Shawn patted his leg but the shepherds didn’t budge. “Sorry, Clay. There are dog treats under the sink. Try bribing them while I change.”

While taking a quick shower, Shawn made an effort to get in the mood to pull his weight as co-owner of Spurs tonight. That meant taking the time to socialize with new guests, show them around or give a demonstration or two, and at least act like he enjoyed exerting his dominance. It pissed him off to find himself so blasé about indulging his sexual preferences at this age. Thirty-five wasn’t even close to fifty, when he’d expected to go through the recent up-and-down mood swings plaguing him. Both Clayton and Dakota had passed their mid-thirties birthday, and neither seemed bothered.

After dressing in his usual club attire of jeans, boots, and a black leather vest over a cream work shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he was in a marginally better frame of mind. His attitude improved even more when he returned to the living area and saw the dogs had made friendly with Clayton.

“Was it your charm or a treat?”

“My charm, of course. But the large dog biscuits didn’t hurt my case.”

“I’ll bet. I need to let them out for a bit before we leave, so we have time to eat.”

Clayton winced with exaggeration. “Nothing you put together, I hope.”

“No,” he returned, unoffended. He was the first to admit he couldn’t cook worth a damn. “I picked up barbeque.”

“Works for me. I’ll put it in while you keep an eye on the dogs.”

An hour later, Shawn drove to Spurs, determined to get his head back in the game of playing and off everything else for the night.

Chapter Three

Lisa didn’t have as much trouble finding the tucked-away, log-hewn private club as she did finding a place to park. She was used to a smaller venue and, seeing so many vehicles, she almost whipped around and returned to her newly rented home. The thought of spending another lonely evening by herself held less appeal than hanging out in such a large crowd, though, and she found a space big enough for her compact car at the far end of the last row.

No one else was arriving as she made her way to the front door, but it was already close to the ten o’clock deadline to enter, according to the website information for guest night. Besides shoring up her nerve to not only