Page 67 of For the Record
“You can start by showing up on Coy’s doorstep and apologizing,” Bree surprised Sawyer by saying. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken those thoughts aloud.
“Let’s say you’re right, and Coy doesn’t actually love you.” Bree shot Sawyer a speculative look. “Maybe it’s lust. How will it grow into anything more if you don’t give her a chance?”
“Hmm,” Sawyer hummed, noncommittal. She wiped her eyes, picking up her spoon again. Bree made more coffee as she ate. The porridge was cold but delicious.I’ll have to let McCoy know.
“For the record, I think you’re wrong.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” Was it possible to genuinely fall in love with someone over the course of a few months?
Sawyer needed to find out.
Three hours later, Sawyer realized she didn’t remember McCoy’s address. She didn’t know Greg Miller’s address either, or even if McCoy was truly there. It was Sunday, so the shop was closed, but would McCoy go there if she was upset to tinker on a car? It bothered Sawyer that she didn’t know. She prided herself in learning every nuance there was to someone, especially since she’d permitted McCoy to discover such an intimate piece of her.
I slept with a woman,Sawyer marveled for the umpteenth time. She slowed her Range Rover down for a red light. Was she being rash again, hunting McCoy down throughout the city? It would be simple to just call the younger woman or send a text, but each time Sawyer tried, nothing came out. To put everything she felt into words seemed as daunting as it was proving impossible.
“I had sex with McCoy,” Sawyer said into the silence of the Rover. It was difficult to bask in the pure enjoyment of the act when she was so humiliated over not climaxing. Was sex supposed to feel so out of control? Sawyer thrived on discipline. Every single moment with Olivier had been on his terms, but one thing he could never command had been her lack of response to him. With McCoy, Sawyer had become lost in wanton desire for the first time, and it had been terrifying.
“Turn right onto Davie Street,” directed the SUV’s GPS. “Your destination will be on the right.”
“Okay,” Sawyer breathed. Moments later, she parked a few doors down from O’Rourke’s Pub. “God, what am I doing?” If anyone knew the address to McCoy’s place, she figured they’d be here. Perhaps Sloane was working, or Frankie. So much had happened that it was hard to believe Sawyer’s date night with McCoy had been just last night.
The pub was busy with their noontime rush when Sawyer entered, so she asked the first server she spotted if Sloane was working. “What about Frankie? Is she in?” Sawyer asked when she learned Sloane was off today as well.Is it a Miller tradition to keep Sundays work-free?If so, it was no wonder McCoy got annoyed that time Sawyer insisted she come in.
The server pointed down the short hallway off the side of the bar, “In her office, the last door on the left.”
“Thank you,” Sawyer replied, before heading in that direction. The office door was closed when she arrived, and Sawyer squared her shoulders, taking a deep, encouraging breath before knocking.
“Come in,” came Frankie’s low, almost sultry, voice.
Tabarnak, Sawyer thought with a shiver. If Frankie’s voice gavehergoosebumps, then she could just imagine what it’d done to McCoy in the past.Ugh, don’t think about that.
“Sawyer, what a surprise,” Frankie said when Sawyer opened the door. She stood from her desk, gesturing to Sawyer. “Please, come in.”
“Sorry to show up unannounced,” Sawyer began, taking in the attractive, pin-stripe white suit Frankie had on. If memory served, she’d been wearing a different suit the night before. “I was hoping you could give me McCoy’s address. I want to surprise her and can’t remember the exact street in Richmond.”
“She’s not home. Shut the door. Let’s have a chat.”
Sawyer blew out a breath, and as she shut the office door, she said, “I don’t have time—”
“McCoy is upstairs. In my apartment.”
“—for a chat,” Sawyer finished slowly. Frankie’s statement sunk in, and she narrowed her gaze on the other woman. “What did you say?”
“No need for jealousy.” Frankie waved the idea off with a flick of her wrist. She sat back down, gesturing to Sawyer to do the same, and then crossed one thigh over the other. Her confidence as she controlled a room was breathtaking to watch. “I’ve known McCoy a long time, Sawyer. Though some might say it was just about sex, they wouldn’t have a fucking clue what it’s like in a Domme/sub dynamic.”
Sawyer frowned further. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’m who McCoy turns to when she’s feeling vulnerable.” Frankie shrugged, studying Sawyer from across the room. “I was her Domme, and I promised to protect her wellbeing.”
“You aren’t her Domme now,” Sawyer said tightly.
Frankie smiled.Smiled, and Sawyer had the strongest urge to slap it off her face. “I can see why she’s so entranced with you. Have you noticed yet that McCoy is a bit of a chameleon around others? Maybe not, since you’re just discovering one another, but if you pay attention, you’ll see she acts differently depending on who she’s with. With her friend group, “The Fab Five” as they call it, McCoy is the funny one. With her friend Naz, she blends in to be part of “the guys” even though she hates smoking cigars. Sloane brings out the mother hen in her, and out there—” Frankie paused to point outside to her pub, “—she was the player. For years, I watched her flirt with others and lead them to the washroom or out the front door.”
Why is she telling me this?Sawyer tensed. She knew McCoy wasn’t like that, at least not with her. Was this Frankie’s way of steering Sawyer away from her? She opened her mouth to put astop to the conversation when Frankie held up a finger in a “just a minute” gesture.
“And then up there”—Frankie pointed to the ceiling—“behind closed doors, McCoy can just be. No pretense, no judgment, as vulnerable as she needs to be. I noticed something last night though, Sawyer. McCoy is all of those things with you. It’s kind of incredible to witness. Her eyes never wander far from you. She makes you laugh, fusses over you. From what Sloane told me, you protected McCoy. So why is she moping on my sofa right now?”
“You love her.”