Chapter 20

"Am I doing this right? It looks weird."

When Will called and said we were making dinner tonight, it hadn't occurred to me to say anything but yes. He texted me a grocery list, and I braved the store to get what we needed.

These were the moments I wanted to pinch myself and forget where I was just weeks ago. Suddenly, this man was front and center in my life. The other shoe hadn't fallen yet, but it was coming. Nothing that felt this good could ever last.

I'd always told myself that relationships weren't for me, and I was satisfied with the occasional hookup. After being with Will, I knew I was both full of shit and didn't know shit. No one but him ever told my cousins to shut the fuck up, and they actually listened.

Hell, even my parents were offended by him and their phone calls had now dwindled to once a week. I let it go to voice mail. They still texted to detail their disappointment, but those were easy to ignore. After the first couple, I just muted them, and they tapered off to once or twice a week too.

Will peeked around me while I chopped vegetables for the vegetable stir-fry and teriyaki chicken. His vegetables didn't look hacked when he chopped them, and mine were decidedly so. It would help if my mom's voicemail from this morning wasn't on repeat in my head.

"Nope, it's all good. The shape doesn't really matter as long as the size is close to each other. If they are too far off, then they don't cook evenly. You did good, sweetheart." Daddy rewarded me with a quick peck on the cheek. "You are a cooking master."

I snorted at that one. I doubted chopped zucchini and carrots gave me chef status, but even Daddy's words of praise weren't enough to get the internal voice to shut the fuck up.

When he'd decided to teach me to cook, I didn't think I'd enjoy it as much as I had. Providing for Will gave me a sense of accomplishment. Obviously, I knew he was a better cook, and he didn't need my efforts, but he made me feel like they were appreciated.

My parents had said I was a menace in the kitchen, but now that I'd been doing it, I thought they just hadn't wanted me around. Being in the kitchen with me would have forced us to interact. A fate worse than death for them.

There were only so many times Dad could yell at me for not playing football and Mom could detail her abject embarrassment at the unpopularity of her introverted child. Being around each other would force them to do it more.

That thought brought me back to my mom's most recent voicemail. Dad's retirement party was in two weeks, and my presence was expected. They'd rented out the private dining room at Quill over on the mainland.

Would it be too much to ask Will to go with me? We'd gone to trivia again, and he seemed okay with my company outside the house. The random shit I remembered finally came in handy, but that wasn't the same as a fancy-ass restaurant no one wanted to be at. Why the fuck did a cop's retirement need a formal dinner, for Christ's sake.

How would I even ask him? My family would be there, so it would be a nonstop Fuck with Beckett fest. Just because my dad was around his coworkers didn't mean he wouldn't lay into me.

My folks always said they'd retire and move out to Almstead Island permanently. Since Dad worked on the mainland, they only came out here to their own cabin once or twice a month.

If they moved out here, would I be expected to show up more often? If Dad applied to the department to fill his time, would the chief hire him? If he did, would I have to work with him? If he applied and didn't get hired, I'd never hear the end of it.

Goddammit.

"Fuck me!" The knife slipped into the pad of my finger when I drew it back. I raised it to my mouth to stem the blood flow, but bright-red drops dripped onto my shirt. "Goddammit, I like this shirt." Will pulled my finger out of my mouth, wrapped a dish towel around it, and squeezed.

"What did you do, sweetheart?"

"I wasn't paying attention. I think I got some blood on the board." In addition to the shirt, blood had dripped over the vegetables and cutting board. "Fuck, I ruined dinner."

"Hush, you didn't ruin anything. Jesus, this thing is a bleeder. Do you think you need stitches?" Will gingerly unwrapped the towel to get a closer look.

"I don't need fucking stitches," I sneered. "It's barely a cut."

Will ignored my snarls about not needing a fucking nursemaid to wrap my finger. He carefully cleaned the slice, wrapped gauze around it, and taped it together. He'd wrapped it tight for pressure, but I could still feel the throb. I wouldn't bleed all over the kitchen. Good enough.

"Sweetheart, I know you're hurt, but you may not speak to me like that."

"Christ. I'm not a goddamn kid."

"Pardon me?" Will's precise clip and deadly calm warned me that I'd gone too far.

"I said I'm not a kid. This is my house, and if I want to be shitty, I get to be shitty." The ice beneath me was cracking fast. Instead of listening to the little voice inside that warned me I needed to pull back, I doubled down.

"Anything else?" Will's conversational tone was belied by the fiery eyes.

Suddenly, I felt defeated. And tired. Bone-dead tired. I just stared in silence at him.

"Good, follow me. Dinner can wait." Will pulled off the ridiculous frilly pink apron he'd gotten from his mom and had permanently migrated to my kitchen and tossed it on the counter on his way out of the kitchen. He headed toward the bedroom in a long stride and never once turned around to look to see if I followed him.

I did.

"Sit on the bed, please. I'll be right back."

"What the fuck are we doing?" I snarled.

"You safewording, sweetheart?"

"Fuck no."

"Then do what you're told."

Will turned on his heel and walked back out of the room. He didn't wait to see if I sat on the bed.

I did.

His quiet calm pissed me off. I wanted him to fight with me, tell me off, or slam out the door. Something. Instead, he called me sweetheart and put me in time-out like a toddler.

Fuck. Every time I thought about my parents being on the island permanently, I felt like my skin was peeling off. Shit, I wouldn't put it past my dad to show up on scene, just so I could be told how much I'd fucked it up.

Now Will was doing whatever the hell he was doing out there, and I was in here counting floor planks while I considered all the ways I'd screwed up a nice evening.

Hell, maybe Will wanted to pack his gear without me watching. It wasn't only his real men wear pink apron that had migrated to my house. It was the rest of his plants that needed TLC before he sent them to an undeserved grave, his files for grant applications he'd been processing, and his running shoes collecting dust.

It felt like centuries, but it probably wasn't more than five minutes before Will returned. Rather than come inside the room, he leaned against the doorway, watching me. He had that damned half-smile of his like he knew some kind of secret and wasn't going to share it with me.

"Is something bothering you'd like to tell me about?"

"Yeah, I cut my finger and got pissed off."

"That wasn't about cutting your finger. You got to thinking about something when you were chopping because that's the best time to start getting pissed off. I could literally see a little black rain cloud forming over your head."

"Now you got jokes?" I scoffed, but he didn't respond.

"If you don't want to talk to me, let's try option two."

"What the fuck is option two?"

"I spank your ass."

"Whaat?" I choked out.

"You heard me. You can tell me what you started thinking about that got you so upset, or I can spank your ass. Your call."

He'd asked me earlier if I was safewording, but fuck that. He couldn't hurt me and wouldn't want to hurt me, so I might as well take the spanking. What the hell did I have to lose? "Okay. Let's go, Will."

"I'm Will, huh? That's certainly a choice." Will crossed the room to stand next to me. As he crossed, he pulled a wooden spoon thing from his back pocket. It wasn't the cheap kind that was like three for a couple of dollars. The one he held was thick and solid with smooth, polished wood. Maybe walnut? Rather than a rounded end, it was elongated and about three inches long.

"What the hell is that?"

Will turned it over in his hand to look at it from different angles. "A spurtle. It's a combination spoon and spatula. I think it's going to work great. Sweetheart, I need you to be naked and lean over the bed. Good thing you bought such a high one."

Will's tone was conversational and nonchalant like we were neighbors meeting over the back fence and talking about the weather. He leaned against the bed like he didn't have a fucking care in the world while he waited for me to bare my ass.

Fine. I made sure to look directly at him. My shirt was pulled off first, and Will remained unaffected. Hmph. Next, I unbuttoned the fly on my jeans and shoved them down. There was a flicker of interest when he realized I'd gone commando after my shower. That was better. My eyes never left his when I tossed my clothes into the corner. Will's eyes raked over me and briefly lingered on my junk.

"Aren't you gonna get naked too?"

"I don't need to be naked to spank. Just you." The calm confidence in his words made me uneasy. I had thought that maybe we'd just come in here and fuck around, but it felt like Will wasn't interested in me tonight. Shit. This wasn't how I'd expected it to go. Hell, I thought he'd use his hand. Will never did arm days. It would sting more with his improvised paddle, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"Sweetheart, lean over the bed like you were told." Will's words were kind, but his tone didn't leave room for ambiguity. There was a bite to it. When I got into position, Will moved to stand behind me. He traced over the globes of my ass but never dipped into my crack or made a move to touch my cock or balls. "First, tell me your safewords."

"I'm not gonna need them," I snorted.

"Humor me."

"Green is go, yellow is need to talk, and red stops everything." I rolled my eyes, but Will didn't see me. There was no damn way I'd need them.

"I thought we were beyond you calling me Will."

"Does it matter?" My voice was strained with a superhuman effort to keep my body still. His indifference began to freak me out.

"Yes, it matters to me, so let's start with that. You call me Daddy, not Will, unless there's someone around that you don't want to hear you say it. Do you understand?" His tone was deceptively calm, but I heard the intent behind it.

If this were a call-out, I'd lay money on him being the suspect we all thought was harmless who then unexpectedly wreaked havoc. He continued to lightly massage my ass. Despite my pissy mood, my cock hardened because Will's hands would always make me want more.

"Yeah," I responded.

CRACK. Will sure as shit knew how to swing that spurtle. That fucker hurt.

"Try again, sweetheart."

"Yes," I said through clenched teeth, "Daddy." His hands rubbed away the sting. My cock didn't get the memo that I wasn't supposed to like this.

"Good, please remember."

Will let loose a torrent of blows on my ass. He was careful to stay on the fleshy, muscled areas, but I knew I'd feel it tomorrow. I wouldn't have expected him to wield it with such force. He moved into different areas, and each one became a little more painful.

After a few minutes, the pain started to seep into my brain and then transformed into a haze that let me float and bob along. The pain was still there but not searing. It turned to a constant, dull throb. The longer it continued, the more my father's voice receded into the background.

Each blow sent me higher into the atmosphere, where I lost track of time and my mind wandered. Every strike sent me further and further away from my physical self and higher into the ether. My father's derision and dislike of me was more like an annoying gnat buzzing around my head. It bothered me, but it couldn't hurt me. The burning heat that Daddy was administering to my ass blocked every voice in my head.

It finally registered that Daddy had stopped spanking me, although the fiery heat lingered. He gently smoothed lotion across my cheeks. It registered that my face felt wet. I reached up and was surprised to find tear tracks down my face. Daddy produced a towel from somewhere and used it to clean his hand off before tossing it aside to climb onto the bed.

Daddy reclined against the headboard and gestured for me to join him. I lay, stomach down, between his spread legs with my arms wrapped around his middle while I pillowed my head on his torso. His whispered words didn't fully penetrate the fog of my brain, but I heard snippets of proud and love and sweet man. The tears I thought I'd finished shedding returned for an encore and soaked the front of his soft, cotton tee. After a few minutes, I pulled myself together but didn't move away from him.

"Sweetheart, are you ready to tell me what happened." Daddy's voice was soft. His fingers lightly scratched my scalp.

The pain from his blows had been reduced to a steady but not unpleasant ache. Just different. Between the three sensations, I felt myself sinking to somewhere I didn't expect. I'd never experienced this level of relaxation. It felt like every pressing worry, disturbing thought, and grating emotion had been soothed.

"My dad is retiring. They've always said their plan is to move back to the island full-time when that happens. I know my dad. There's no way he'll just not work. Being a cop is his whole personality, so I wouldn't give it a month before he's trying to get on at least part-time with our department. My mom won't have being a cop wife as her identity. Will she start expecting more from me? I don't think I can give her more. I don't want to give her more."

"Didn't you tell me your chief and dad know each other?"

"Yeah, they were in Seattle together before Chief left to take over this job."

"Didn't you also tell me they didn't like each other?"

"My dad fucking hates him, but I doubt Chief even thinks about my dad."

"Hates him, huh? Why would he apply for a job in a department run by a guy he hates?"

Fair point.

"I could see my dad showing up on a scene just to fuck with me," I answered.

"But doing that would be interfering, and your chief would, I'd guess anyway, handle that. I don't know the guy, but he's decent?" He stopped and waited for my affirming nod. "And respects you and the other officers?" I nodded again. "And maybe doesn't think about your dad but knows he's an asshole?" Another nod. "Then why on earth would he hire him or put up with him interfering? Maybe give the guy the benefit of the doubt?"

I tightened my hold so Will knew I'd heard him.

"There's this other thing too." Daddy waited patiently for me to continue. "I have to go to his retirement party in a couple of weeks. It's at Quill and a command appearance."

"Well, first, even the banquet food is amazing there, and that sucks almost everywhere. Second, you have a date."

"You don't have to go," I scoffed.

"Baby, you don't understand."

"Seriously, you don't have to go. It's fine. I'll just hang out with Cameron and let him enjoy annoying the piss out of me or something."

The words that came out of my mouth were a reflex.

Always step back. Never expect. Never ask.

"Stop. I'm going to the damn party with you, and it's not because I have to go. I want to go. I want to go everywhere with you. I'd be damn proud to walk into that room holding your hand. I don't give a fuck if your parents don't like it. I don't give a fuck if anyone doesn't like it. You understand, sweetheart? No one gets the privilege of holding your hand but me."

This man wrecked me.