Page 14 of Heathens

Even Fiora had seen it. She’d mentioned that my relationship with Locke was complicated. That would be an extreme understatement. I had been harboring a horrid secretthroughout my late adolescence until now, one that I fully intended to take to the grave with me.

I was in love with my father’s best friend.

It hadn’t happened gradually, either. I had been introduced to Locke when he was invited to dinner one night, and I had lost my heart to him on first sight when I was just eighteen. My father was sadly resigned that I had chosen not to attend college in Seattle, but we were trying to make the best of it. I came into the room and saw Locke sitting there—in my usual chair—and I knew I was a goner, that whatever gurgles of feeling I’d had for anyboysbefore were no more than emotional indigestion.

Locke Hartwell was all man, and I instantly became hooked.

This man had reached out and grabbed a hold of my barely beating heart and made me feel alive, made me feel like I could do anything. He then quickly looked away and began talking business with my father. Confused with my rush of emotions, I took a seat as far away from my new obsession as I could get.

What I’d felt then toward Locke had never gone away, and never diminished. To the contrary, the longer I knew him, the more acute my responses became. It got so that I could barely stand to be in the same room with him, and yet I couldn’t stay away. He and my father had always been close, and since they were in the same ‘circle of friends,’ they spent a lot of time together.

I tried desperately not to feel the way I did and was careful not to reveal any of my feelings toward Locke to anyone. There wasn’t another living soul who knew how I felt about him. I had kept it all inside and smiled and laughed and ate dinner with them as if it was nothing more than me being Daddy’s little girl, curious about his crime and underground doings.

Locke still unknowingly held my heart in his hands, but I would never encroach on my father’s territory, even after death. It would be wrong, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Itwasn’t about the age to me, or that I should be calling LockeUncle Locke, rather than picturing myself having sex with him.

It was the fact that my father expected Locke to watch over me… not fuck me.

Locke occasionally called to ask me out to dinner, or to accompany him to a social function, but as hard as it was, I always declined. I didn’t know how far I could be trusted with him, and I refused to do anything that might dishonor my father’s memory. I was quite sure that being seen around town with your father’s dear friend fell well into impropriety, so I always turned him down.

Lunch was safe… or at least I kept telling myself that.

Just like every other bi-monthly meal, we sat and talked about the weather, what we had been doing for the past couple of weeks, and other inconsequential topics. Although not terribly exciting, it was comfortable and always made me feel a sense of calm.

Toward the end of the meal, he threw his napkin on his plate. “Next time, we’re going someplace where the food is decent.”

“This is decent,” I peeped indignantly.

That eyebrow shot up as he pinned me with a glance. “It’s always the same. Next time we’re going to Ghost Pines.”

I pursed my lips. “The pretentious seafood restaurant? I can’t afford it.”

Another near smile. “But I can, and I’m taking you. For dinner. And I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. I work too damn hard for my money to be eating in dives like this. And there are far too many good restaurants in Heathens Hollow to be wasting our time here eating the same thing over and over again.”

I held my breath, my eyes skittering away from his to the neutral territory of the scratched Formica tabletop. I knew—just from being around him—that Locke was a very dominant man. Certainly not abusively so—well, at least not toward women—in any way, but there was never any question as to who was in charge in his relationship with me.

Locke had never hesitated to lay down the law in more ways than one.

In a way I’d never forget.

Locke Hartwell had spanked me.

Chapter 7

Storee

Yes, Locke Hartwell had spanked me.

God, even thinking about that statement made me want to blush and giggle like an adolescent schoolgirl.

But it was a day I would never forget.

Never.

I had come fervently knocking on Locke’s door, looking for a refuge after having had a bit of a fender bender while trying to parallel park on Main Street. I’d barely been able to get out much of anything beyond, “Oh, man, am I in trouble! You have to help me keep it from my dad. Please.”

That Lincoln Town Car was as close to a baby as my dad had now that I was grown, and he had saved nearly a year for it. I’d driven it because I had yet to save up enough money to buy my own.

I had taken it without telling my father.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com