Page 10 of Daddy’s Naughty Bartender (Naughty Girls Book Club #5)

S mall towns have their own special brand of cruelty, wrapped in concern and delivered with sweet tea and a side of “bless your heart.”

It starts small.

Whispers when Jason and I have breakfast at Barbara's. Raised eyebrows when he picks me up from the bar. By the time two weeks have passed since his return from Chicago, the gossip mill is in full production.

"People are talking," Susie warns on a busy Friday night. "Mrs. Henderson's been telling anyone who'll listen that you're having a 'midlife crisis.'"

"Oh for fuck’s sake." I wipe down the bar with perhaps more force than necessary. "Since when is dating a crisis?"

"Since you're dating someone who, and I quote, 'has you acting like a teenager.' Apparently, she saw him swat your butt in the parking lot Tuesday."

Heat floods my cheeks. That was a playful tap after I'd sassed him about his coffee order. Innocent by any standard, but in Prairie Harbor, it might as well have been public fornication. Someone had seen and spread the rumor. They say the book club I attend is more of a “how to” and less of a readers group. The other women in the club had a good laugh at that. A few very pious, pearl clutchers had been fast at work ever since. They were adamant that BDSM was evil, and shouldn’t be present in their town.

"Let them talk," I say with more confidence than I feel.

But the talk grows louder.

Meaner.

By Saturday afternoon, I've heard versions of our relationship that range from sugar daddy arrangements to BDSM contracts.

The truth, not that it is any of their business, is simple.

We're two adults in a consensual, caring relationship with some power exchange dynamics.

Dynamics that were rather the norm about fifty years ago.

The truth is apparently too boring for the rumor mill.

"Mom, what the hell is this?"

Emily stands in my kitchen, home from Northwestern for a long weekend, holding up her phone. My stomach drops at the social media post on her screen. Someone has taken a photo of Jason and me at the winery, his hand possessively on my lower back as he guides me inside.

The caption reads: Looks like the Merry Widow found herself a new Daddy. Wonder what Mark would think?

"Oh, honey?—"

"Is it true? Are you dating some guy who tells you what to wear and controls you?" Emily's face is flushed with anger and something else. I look closer and I recognize it immediately, hurt. She’s hurt. Is it because he’s the first man I’ve dated since her dad died?

Emily continues her tirade, "because that's what everyone's saying.

That you've gone from being this strong, independent woman to some. .. some submissive housewife!"

"Emily, sit down. Let me explain?—"

"Explain what? That my friends' parents are calling me to 'check in'? That Josh is getting in fights at school defending you? That the whole town thinks you've lost your mind?"

I hadn’t heard any of this. What in the world?

Why would it matter? I know small towns and gossip mills but this?

This is an entirely different level. Why does it matter who I date?

Did they want me to stay in my lonely little widow box they’d put me in?

"I haven't lost anything." I keep my voice steady despite the pain lancing through me.

"I've found someone who makes me happy. Who treats me well. Who?—"

"Who has you acting completely different!" She slams her phone on the counter. "Where's my mom who ran a business and raised us alone and never needed anyone? Where's the woman who taught me to be independent and strong?"

"I'm still that woman?—"

"Are you? Because from where I'm standing, you're letting some man control you. Tell you what to do. And everyone knows it. They are worried about you. I’m worried about you. Are you letting an asshole control you?"

“Are you going to keep interrupting me or are you going to let me speak?” The front door opens before she can respond. Jason enters, takes one look at our faces, and his expression darkens.

"Emily, I presume?"

"And you're the control freak who's got my mom brainwashed." Emily stands, all five-foot-four of her vibrating with protective fury.

"Emily Marie!" I snap.

"What? I'm supposed to be polite to the man who's turned you into gossip fodder? Who's made our family a joke?"

"That's enough." Jason's voice is calm but carries authority. "You're upset. You have every right to be. But you don't get to be disrespectful to your mother or to me."

"You don't get to tell me?—"

"Em, please." Josh appears in the doorway, looking exhausted. "Not now."

" You're defending him?" Emily whirls on her brother. "After what happened at school?"

"What happened at school?" I look between my children, ice forming in my stomach.

Josh rubs his face. "Tommy Henderson said some stuff. About you. About... you whoring around with—" He glances at Jason. "I hit him."

"Joshua!"

"He had it coming." No remorse in his voice. "Nobody talks about my mom like that."

"This is what I mean!" Emily gestures wildly.

"This relationship is affecting all of us.

My brother's getting in fights, I'm getting pitying looks from friends who've heard the gossip, and you're just..

. what? Playing house with Mr. Christian Grey in real life?

Do you let him tie you up? Spank you? Do you wear a ball gag? "

"Emily, you're out of line," Jason says firmly.

"I'm out of line?" She laughs bitterly. "My family is falling apart because my mom decided to have some kinky midlife crisis, and I'm out of line?"

"Go to your room." My voice comes out harder than intended. "Now."

"Mom. I’m an adult, you can’t send me to my room.”

"This is my house, Emily. You can go to your room or you can leave. We'll discuss this when you can be civil."

She storms out, slamming her door hard enough to rattle the windows. Josh lingers, looking torn.

"I'm sorry about the fight," he offers quietly. "But, Mom... it's getting bad. The stuff people are saying..."

"I know, baby." I pull him into a hug. "I'm sorry you're dealing with this."

He hugs me back, then pulls away. "I'm gonna check on Em."

Once alone, Jason and I stand in heavy silence.

The weight of judgment, of small-town cruelty, of my children's pain, presses down on me like lead. Most of the town is made up of good, loving people. But, the mean voices can be louder than the nice, even if they are fewer. There are some who have put in offers on the bar and I’m constantly turning them down.

They’d love to stir up the drama, maybe cause business to go down so they can swing in and snatch it out from under me.

"Maybe they're right," I whisper. "Maybe this is too much. Too fast. Too?—"

"Stop." Jason pulls me into his arms. "This is exactly what they want. For you to doubt yourself. Doubt us."

"My kids are suffering because of me. Because of us."

"Your kids are suffering because people are cruel and small-minded." He tilts my chin up. "You've done nothing wrong. Loving me isn't wrong. Letting me care for you isn't wrong. Finding happiness after loss isn't wrong."

"Then why does it feel like I'm destroying everything?"

"Because change is hard. Because people fear what they don't understand." He presses his forehead to mine. "But, baby, you can't live your life based on other people's comfort levels."

"What if I lose them? My kids?"

"You won't." Such certainty in his voice. "They love you. They're scared and confused, but they love you. We'll work through this."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I've seen you with them. The foundation you've built. It's strong enough to weather this storm."

A knock at the door interrupts us. Linda Morrison stands on my porch, looking sympathetic but determined.

"We need to talk," she says without preamble. "The town council meeting tonight... there's been a complaint."

"A complaint?" I step back to let her in. "About what?"

"About the bar. About... 'inappropriate behavior' on the premises." She glances at Jason. "Someone claimed they witnessed 'lewd acts' in the parking lot."

"That's ridiculous!"

"I know. Believe me, I know. I’ve got your back. But three council members are pushing for a review of your liquor license." Linda's face is grim. "Karen, they're trying to use your personal life to attack your business. And they might succeed if we don't handle this carefully."

The room spins. The bar is everything. Our livelihood, Mark's legacy, my children's inheritance.

"Who filed the complaint?" Jason's voice is deadly quiet.

"Officially? Anonymous. Unofficially?" Linda meets my eyes. "Betty Henderson. She's had it out for you since you refused to donate to her campaign last year. Her husband still has his eyes set on buying the bar and turning into a wing joint. This is just the excuse she needed."

"What do I do?"

"Show up tonight. Both of you. Face them head-on. Make it clear that your personal life has no bearing on your professional capabilities." She squeezes my hand. "And, Karen? Don't you dare let them shame you. You've done nothing wrong. I’ll send out a text. The Naughty Girls will come support you."

After Linda leaves, I sink onto the couch, overwhelmed. Jason sits beside me, solid and steady.

"I can go back to Chicago," he says quietly. "If my presence is making things worse?—"

"No." The word comes out fierce. "Don't you dare. That's what they want. For me to give up the first good thing I've had in years because it makes them uncomfortable."

"Even if it costs you the bar?"

"It won't." I find steel in my spine, the same steel that carried me through Mark's death. "I've run that place impeccably for five years. They have no grounds except gossip and judgment."

"And if they don't care about grounds?"

"Then I'll fight." I meet his eyes. "I'm done letting fear run my life. Done apologizing for finding happiness. Done pretending I don't need what you give me."