Protect and Correct Read online

  “He knows I am still alive, doesn’t he?”

  “We are pretty certain he does. He had to have seen you taken out of the area, and we can’t take the chance that he assumed you didn’t survive.”

  “Damn it, Collin. I should have listened to your warnings and not been so nosey. In this particular situation, ignorance is bliss,” Brooke said miserably.

  “Sometimes you are told no for your own well-being,” Collin sighed. “Or, in this particular situation, to save your bottom from the punishment it is going to experience later for breaking into my computer and disobeying my instructions.”

  “Pardon me? It is my life and—”

  “You asked me to spank you. Don’t act like you don’t remember.”

  “I was under the influence of those meds I took. Why would I want you to discipline me? I am a grown woman… the whole notion is ridiculous,” Brooke blustered. She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, staring out over the yard. “Besides, it hurts.”

  Collin chuckled. “Of course it hurts. It would not serve as a deterrent if it didn’t. But you made that request, and I intend to honor it. We will take care of it this evening after dinner. This way you will have all day to think of ways to weasel out of what you have coming to you.”

  “What if I refuse? You can’t force me.”

  “Actually, I could. Physically, I am quite a bit bigger and stronger than you are, but that is not my style. No,” he eyed her, “my true strength is mental. I suspect that a woman of integrity such as yourself will find that you are incapable of reneging on something that you know you deserve. Now go slip on your sneakers, and we will go for a jog.”

  “Jog? I hate running.”

  “I doubt you ever ran a day in your life with your old body. This one, though, demands maintenance. And I am going to teach you how to take good care of it. I don’t care if you like it.”

  “Well… Okay, maybe I never have run before. But that doesn’t mean I like the idea of doing it now,” Brooke grumbled, slowly standing.

  “You’ll get used to it. We will start slow and work your way up. You are still in recovery mode and need to introduce your muscles to more normalcy apart from hospital rehab.”

  “Still not happy.”

  “Still don’t care. Move it, munchkin,” Collin laughed, smacking her on the rear and not acknowledging the evil glare cast in his direction.

  * * *

  Brooke wheezed miserably as Collin pushed her to trot the extra hundred yards back to the house. She stopped at the front door, bent over and gasping for breath. “You are killing me,” she panted.

  “That was less than a mile. Walk it off,” the man ordered. He had not even broken a sweat.

  “I hate you.”

  “You hate exercise. You adore me. Tomorrow will be easier. At least on your lungs. Not so sure how your backside will be feeling,” he teased.

  “I disagree. I’m fairly certain that I hate you. Thanks,” Brooke accepted a hand towel and wiped the back of her neck. “I can’t believe I am sweating like this. Can we go jump in the water?”

  “I think it is a bit too chilly for that, but you can wade around on the shore. Come on,” Collin grabbed her hand and began running to the backyard, Brooke’s protests to slow down echoing in the trees. She threw her sneakers on the ground and walked knee deep into the gentle waves, sighing with relief as she dug her toes into the cold, sandy bottom.

  “This feels good. Try it.”

  “Too cold.”

  “Wimp.”

  Collin raised his eyebrow. “We will see who the wimp is this evening, little girl. You can put on this big, tough act now, but I am willing to bet you will be changing your tune when you are bare-bottomed and across my knee.”

  “You are not funny.”

  “You don’t see me laughing, now do you?”

  Brooke snarled at him. Unfortunately, no laughter met her in return. She cursed the day that God invented the bottom and the concept of spanking. Like it or not, Collin’s words ate at Brooke as she showered and got dressed for their trip into town. She felt her body tense with apprehension at the thought of being bare-bottomed and across his knee, but she also could not deny the uncomfortable wetness that spread between her legs. What was this man doing to her mind?

  Back to his jovial antics, Collin cheerfully ushered her into the car with a comment on picking up some specialty items for the evening pursuits, including a wooden spoon and a nice, broad wooden hairbrush. Brooke scowled, muttering her opinion of his thoughts under her breath. Her mood, like the weather, was growing fouler by the minute. Her mood was a brew of exhaustion, soreness, anger, confusion, terror, and unmet arousal. Complicating her unhappiness was her physical discomfort as her muscles screamed in protest from the forced jog, hunger, and abdominal cramping associated with medication-induced constipation… All in all, a dangerous mixture of volatile ingredients that would blow at the slightest spark.

  They drove to a quaint little diner, surprised to see that it was quite crowded with locals.

  “I don’t want to go in,” Brooke said, hankering down in the seat. “Can’t we just take out?”

  “What’s wrong, honey bun?”

  “Please stop with the cutesy nicknames. They are making me sick to my stomach.”

  “You are going inside with me. No arguments. Why are you so cranky?”

  “I dunno. I have one fucking nerve left, and everything is getting on it.”

  “Then this is a good time to work on your anger management issues…”

  “I don’t have any goddamn anger issues!” she shouted. She reddened as she realized what had happened. “I am just not in the mood.”

  “As I was saying,” Collin said cheerfully, acting as though the outburst had not occurred, “your old life habits need to be changed so that your new life is a happier and healthier one. To start, absolutely no more swearing from you.”

  “What the fu…”

  “You heard me. You need to learn how to express your anger appropriately. You would never pop a gasket when you were in the courtroom, would you?”

  “Not intentionally. It happened now and then.”

  “Yes, which is why you were known as the Coroner’s bitch. Don’t look so surprised. You know the truth.”

  “You suck.”

  “Let’s talk about name calling. I think that now would be a good time to learn to think about what you say and how to say it,” Collin said patiently. “Every time you want to say something nasty to me, I want you to pause and say the opposite of how you feel.”

  “That’s not conducive to honest communication,” Brooke snapped.

  “Again, focus of choosing words to appropriate express how you feel, and deliver it in a respectful method. Personal attacks, though, are to be delivered with words and actions opposite of whatever nasty thing you are thinking.”

  “Who do you think you are anyway? You act like you are this know it all psychologist… Oh!” Brooke’s eyes widened with understanding, “Your old life? Is that what you did?”

  Collin nodded. “Yes, only I was a psychiatrist. That is why Denise changed her tune when she wanted to know when I had gotten my medical license. I had to give up my practice and all those years of school when I was, uh, renewed. But, like you, the knowledge still exists, and I will not hesitate to practice it when it’s appropriate. Let’s get inside before the rain starts up again.”

  “Do I have to?” Brooke sounded like a petulant child.

  Collin nodded, holding his hand out for her to take. He hugged her tightly when she exited the car, surprising her.

  “What was that for?” She wrinkled her nose, her jewel sparkling against her skin.

  “You needed it. You don’t have to hide this face or body from people anymore, baby. It’s okay.”

  “I still feel like I am going to be laughed at. You know the feeling… You walk by a table, and you hear twittering, knowing they are making fun of you.”

  “Old tapes, Brooke. A
nd filled with lies. You have nothing to be afraid of. I’m here.”

  Brooke sighed and allowed him to lead her into the restaurant. They were seated quickly in a corner booth and handed menus by an older woman with bleached-blond hair and an uneven line of red lipstick.

  “Welcome to Patty’s. I am Francine. New in town, or just visiting?”

  “Coffee,” Brooke demanded, ignoring the greeting.

  Collin frowned at her and then smiled up at the waitress. “Good to meet you, Francine. My name is Collin Doyle, and this is my lovely wife, Brooke. We just moved into town. Maybe you can help us? We need to get her some new clothes, and she was admiring your blouse. Weren’t you, darling?”

  “Why, aren’t you the charmer? Go down the street and head right on Broadway. You’ll see Vintage World. What brings you to this part of the nation? You don’t look like a lobsterman.”

  “No, ma’am. The only lobster I do is already steamed. I do online sales and websites.”

  “I see… And do you work, Brooke, dear?” Francine asked, eyeing her with a pleasant smile.

  “Yeah. I am an analyst…”

  “She tests my products as a basic consumer and then fills out surveys,” Collin interrupted, nudging her with his foot. Brooke glared at him. How dare he dumb her down!

  “Oh? What products?” Francine asked, unaware of the sudden tension.

  Brooke stared straight at Collin and answered. “Sex toys. Could I please get some coffee now?”

  She could not decide who turned the deepest shade of red—the waitress or Collin. Either way, her response succeeded in changing the subject to coffee, and Francine quickly left the table.

  “What the hell was that about?” Collin asked. “I was trying to introduce us into the community.”

  “You acted like I am a stupid, uneducated housewife. I have a master’s degree and—”

  “There is absolutely nothing wrong with being a housewife, kiddo. It is a long honored profession that this world needs. Plus, you had a master’s degree. You are, in all intents and purposes, a regular girl now. The whole idea is to blend in and become part of the community, not to isolate or draw unnecessary attention to yourself. Damn… That woman is already spreading the news.”

  “I don’t care. I am used to being a social outcast.”

  “Brooke, let’s get something straight. We are here for your protection. We want the people to care about you, not to want you to leave. Towns like this can provide the strongest protection, and you need that.”

  “He won’t be able to find me. He doesn’t know what I look like.”

  “No, but I am willing to guess that he knows enough about you to ask the right questions.”

  “From who? A waitress with a third grade education who can barely see well enough to put her lipstick on straight? How many people in this place have even graduated middle school? Seriously, the level of intelligence here—”

  “Cut it out, Brooke. You need to adjust that attitude. I… Oh, thanks, Francine,” Collin suddenly smiled as the woman placed two cups of coffee on the table before them. “I apologize for my wife’s surliness. She has been a bit out of sorts lately. You know, lady problems.” He lowered his voice in a knowing tone. Brooke felt her face flush.

  “You poor dear! You might want to go to the herbal store and pick up some Black Cohosh. That is supposed to help balance things.”

  “I don’t believe in—”

  “That is an excellent idea, Francine! Nothing else has helped,” Collin interrupted. He quickly gave their order, topped with more appreciative thank yous. With a sympathetic smile in Brooke’s direction, Francine left the table.

  “I hate you,” Brooke repeated her mantra.

  “Get over it. What I don’t understand is how you, of all people, can be such a snob.”

  “I am not a snob!”

  “You certainly are. You talk about people with less education the same way that the ‘pretty’ people talked about you! How dare you think you are better than they are simply because you had the opportunity to go to college?” Collin scolded, his eyes dark with anger. Brooke’s mouth hung open. “Do you think your advanced education is going to save your neck if that bastard comes after you? Whatever has crawled up your ass and died has finally gotten on my last nerve. Now you are to be sweet and cordial when that woman returns, or I swear I will roast your backend the second we get into the parking lot. Do you understand me?”

  Brooke stared at him in disbelief. She hid the trembling of her hands as she wrung them in her lap under the table. She felt… ashamed. But he was not done with his lecture.

  “There is nothing I loathe more than when a person who has conquered a problem in their life turns and discriminates against the very same problem. Weight loss, education, appearance… I don’t give a shit what it is. I am so damn disappointed in you right now. I really believed you to be better than this.”

  Tears formed in Brooke’s eyes. She looked down into her lap and watched as a single drop splashed on her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Collin simply grunted. He looked up as Francine brought the plates to them, thanking her sweetly for the effective way she handled her job. The woman beamed with pleasure as she fussed over his needs.

  “Brooke? Do you have something to say to Francine?”

  “Aw, Collin…” Brooke began, but she turned to the other woman upon seeing his expression. “Um, sorry I’m so cranky. Please forgive me. There is no excuse if I appeared rude to you,” she choked out. “I was wondering if, well… are there any woman’s groups I can get involved with? Collin is always working, and it would be good if I could make some friends.”

  “Of course, dear! Do you like to do any crafts? We have a huge miniature club that meets here the third Wednesday of every month at seven.”

  “Isn’t that an oxymoron? A huge miniature club?” Brooke was genuinely confused.

  Francine laughed. “Dollhouse miniatures. We have nearly fifteen members! We would love for you to join us. Please come. There is free pie and coffee!”

  Brooke looked at Collin with trepidation. His eyes glowed with amusement. A huge miniature dollhouse club? She hated crafts and had never played with dolls! Brooke stifled a groan. They weren’t in Kansas anymore!

  Collin grinned, enjoying her discomfort. “She will be there. Thank you so much for inviting her.”

  Brooke forced a shy smile and nodded her thanks. As soon as Francine left, she turned to Collin. “I don’t have to keep reminding you just how much I hate you, do I?”

  “Do you hate me as much as you hate socializing and doing crafts?”

  “Yes, and more. Much, much more.”

  Brooke’s mood darkened as the day wore on. Collin seemed to take great pleasure in forcing her to do the thing she despised the most. Shopping. Clothes shopping, grocery shopping, appliance shopping… The final straw was broken when Collin dragged her into a novelty store at the far end of town.

  “Why are we here? My God, Collin! This town has a population of seven thousand people and less than twenty stores. Do you have to meet every person and go in every fucking store?”

  “Watch the mouth. I promise that if I find what I want, we will be done for the day. Ahh, just the thing!” He held up a thick, 14 inch paddle with the words Attitude Adjuster carved into it. He smacked it on the palm of his hand, grinning as Brooke reddened.

  “Got one just like it for my wife. Works like a charm,” the storekeeper chuckled, taking it from him to ring up at the old-fashioned cash register.

  “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to resort to this, but sometimes the bad attitude calls for a good, old fashioned paddling. Don’t you agree?” Collin commented back

  “I think every husband in town owns one of these. They also like to have this on hand as well. Fits nicely in the glove compartment. Please, take it as a welcome gift.” He held up an oval-shaped, flat back, wooden boar bristle hairbrush.

  “Thank you! I promise that it will be put to
good use very shortly. Too bad these bristles aren’t made into a matt. I would suspect it to be very uncomfortable to sit a sore bottom on them,” Collin said, noticing Brooke starting to slip out towards the front door. “Get back in here, Brooke. If you had bothered with a more pleasant disposition today, then this little detour would not have been necessary.”

  “I hate you.”

  “The attitude problem seems to come with living in this town. My gal got her buns warmed right before work this morning for the same thing.” The shopkeeper laughed. “She was crying so hard, she put her lipstick on crooked.”

  “Are you telling tales about me, Rolland?”

  “Ahh! There is my trouble maker. This is my wife, Francine. How was work today?” Rolland asked, planting a firm kiss on her lips before affectionately smacking her rump.

  “Much better since I got off. Hi again, Brooke. You don’t look very happy,” Francine said.

  Collin grinned with a shrug. “Nor should she be. She is facing some OTK time after dinner tonight. Thanks to your husband, I suspect our time together will be very effective.”

  Brooke stared at the floor, anger welling inside of her. How dare he humiliate her like that? She felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “Aw, honey, don’t be so embarrassed. Nearly every well-loved wife in our little town sports a tender bum now and then. Domestic discipline is an accepted part of our community.”

  “Every wife? Are you joking? How in the world can that be?”

  “This town has grown by word of mouth and the ladies,” Rolland smiled at his wife, “don’t seem to be embarrassed when it comes to gossip. According to the old timers, it’s been this way for twenty years.”

  “But it’s abusive, and how anyone—”

  “Have I ever abused you, Brooke? Please, tell me,” Collin asked seriously.

  “It feels abusive! How can any mature, intelligent woman allow such a thing? We don’t live in the 1800’s anymore!”

  “Might as well be around this place,” Francine grinned.

  “This is ludicrous. How can women allow this?”