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CHAPTER TEN

I solde sat at the edge of her bed, fighting frustration and a crappy mood from hell. This was her second morning in White Springs, and this day better not be a repeat of yesterday.

What a waste.

None of the things she’d wanted to explore with Johnny took place. Just thinking about it pissed her off so much, she could spit nails faster than a nail gun.

Soon after he’d told her about the attack on the clubhouse, her sweet interlude in Johnny’s arms came to an abrupt end. To her shock, a pragmatic and distant man replaced the warm and charming Daddy she’d fallen in love with. Speaking in a humorless tone he’d never used before, he sent her to square away her belongings, which took about… Oh, a whopping fifteen minutes.

While she futzed around with her things, Johnny inspected the house and grounds, then she heard him in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors and shuffling pots and pans. She could only guess he was familiarizing himself with the setup and checking supplies .

An hour or so later, he’d asked her to join him in the kitchen. She was surprised at his cooking ability. He’d put together a nice brunch, consisting of a simple but delicious cheese omelet with a side of cut strawberries and melon. But not once did he ask for her help or try to find out what she liked to eat. When she sat at the table, something about his stern attitude informed her she should finish the last morsel on her plate.

Following the previous pattern, Johnny didn’t allow her to pick up or help him wash the dishes. At this point, she wanted to rail at him. She wasn’t a spoiled, useless girl. Since she’d been very young, her mother had trained her to help around the house, and Isolde enjoyed being useful. She offered anyway. Johnny listened without an argument until she finished, which was worse.

Quietly, he led her to the living room, turned on the TV, and after surfing around different channels, he turned to the comedy channel and left her alone. He returned later with Mr. Bubbles, put her rabbit in her hands, and walked out.

Isolde went from staring at the TV to the wall. His silence and the strange distance were killing her. What had happened to the expressive man who wanted to show her pleasure, the Daddy who’d explained so well his feelings for her?

“You are…so beautiful. And I… I love…love…everything about you.”

Lord, the emotion in him had been so vivid, she’d trembled listening. His words would forever be embedded in her soul.

Now, she feared the worst. Had she lost him? Pushed him away? Was he gone forever from her?

Prompted by an uncomfortable anxiety, she’d left the living room and searched the house. She found him outside, at the back end of the porch, sweeping the wooden floor. Her keen eye didn’t lie to her. There was no dust to speak of; the management agency had left the rental property spotless. So what was he doing?

Using any excuse to stay away from her.

But why ?

She stood, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Eventually, he paused sweeping and glanced up with a bland smile. Before she could ask what was wrong, he spoke first. “We need supplies, but I’m kinda too beat to drive into town. I’m ordering pizza for dinner. What do you like on yours?”

At least he’d extended beyond monosyllables to sentences.

Isolde fought the tears burning her eyes. “Cheese and pepperoni work for me. Thanks for asking.”

Turning on her heel, she went back inside. She couldn’t figure out the change in him, and she was done struggling. Later, she ate the pizza slices he served her without a comment, then, after dinner, she went straight to her bedroom and fell asleep talking to her cherished Mr. Bubbles. At least her stuffie listened.

But now, as she stood from her bed, she felt stronger, energized, and way more determined thanks to a decent night’s rest. Whether Daddy wanted it or not, she was prepared to wave the red flag and seize the bull by the horns when it charged her way.

As Isolde walked down the hallway, she saw him in the kitchen. Sipping his coffee, he stared out the side window with an absent expression. Great opportunity to surprise him.

She reached the threshold, and he stopped sipping. “Good morning.” With uncanny timing, he spoke before she could.

Isolde let out a breath. “Same to you.”

Isolde caught the flash. Lasted a brief moment. Barely there. His expression shifted from aloof to hesitation. Her heart jumped… But he recovered and shut down again. Didn’t matter. He could pretend until the end of days. She saw it. Damn him, she saw his doubt.

For whatever reason, Johnny had adopted a change in behavior, afar cry from the man in her Dalton bedroom, the affectionate Daddy he’d revealed to her.

Isolde wasn’t taking this without a fight. She’d had a taste and craved the whole man. He couldn’t ask her to let him go, any more than he could ask her to give up chocolate cake. Once you’d had a small bite of heaven, your taste buds would ask for more forthe rest of your life. Same thing with Johnny.

As she sashayed close to him, he narrowed his gaze. Had he guessed her strategy? She could tone it down a bit.

“That coffee smells divine…Daddy,” she said, with emphasis on Daddy.

“Um, have some.” Blinking, he stepped back too quickly, reached for a mug on the counter, and then brought it up between them like a shield.

Gotcha, Daddy.

She’d ambushed him with her seductive walk and tone, and it worked. No matter how good this new act was, he still wanted her. However, it was important to slow down a little. Being too obvious would push him back into his cave.

Isolde gave him a few inches of space as she picked up the carafe and filled her mug. His eyes glued to her, he didn’t speak or move. Time to add a little pressure. Isolde stood in front of him and brought the mug to her mouth. Locking her gaze with his, she slowly parted her lips in an anticipatory move, then licked the rim before she sipped a tiny bit and swallowed.

“Good coffee,” she murmured, running the tip of her tongue over her lips.

Johnny’s nostrils flared. His blue eyes flashed. The muscles in his jaw clenched and relaxed. An image of a charging bull appeared in her mind. Would he give in? Kiss her…touch her? Unfortunately, she made the mistake of smiling too soon and shattered the spell.

Frowning, he put his mug in the sink. “Good. We’ll have breakfast in town. I found a place. Then we’ll shop for supplies.” The stiff words were meant to maintain his efficient and unemotional demeanor. But Isolde had discovered the dangling tip of an unraveling thread. She had every intention to keep on pulling until his cover came undone.

The ride into White Springs along the solitary Fl-136 went by pretty quickly. Johnny turned right on US Route 41, and a few more houses appeared on both sides, giving credence to the term downtown. They were not in a populated or highly traveled area, which worked well with Johnny’s hiding-out plans.

Isolde glanced out the window at the passing landscape, so different from where she lived. Winter storms had struck several glancing blows to Dalton, leaving behind crisp, cool air. It was much hotter and sunnier down here. She guessed the temperature was in the high seventies, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

“There’s our restaurant.” Without releasing the wheel, Johnny pointed to an unpretentious long bungalow with a green open-gable roof on the left side of the street. The surrounding parking area, crowded at the moment, was an indication of good food. A hard-to-miss sign announcing “The Happy Pig” stood near the street.

Isolde wouldn’t call it a restaurant, but then again, in these parts, this was the closest they might find to one.

Johnny pulled into the parking lot. He turned off the engine, and, remembering his last admonition, she waited until he came around and helped her down. Did he crack a smile or give her an approving nod? Nope. He was still holding on to his shitty mood.

Let’s see how long this lasts , she thought as they entered the place.

The Happy Pig was bright, spacious inside, and fairly busy, but not packed. Sitting arrangements consisted of long tables for family-style eating and shorter ones for folks who preferred to eat alone or with a small group. An ancient jukebox sat near a well- stocked bar, and an abundance of mismatched pictures, posters, and framed photos decorated the walls. The owner took pride in this establishment and kept the place clean. The tables, counters, and wood floors gleamed.

“Welcome. Sit wherever you like,” a middle-aged lady greeted them from the bar, and Johnny led Isolde to a table in the front corner.

“Look, Daddy. A jukebox. I haven’t seen one of those in years.”

“Looks real old to me.” He shrugged. “Probably doesn’t work.”

“Gah, what’s wrong with you?” She was close to reaching her limit.

“What do you mean?”

He had the nerve to appear bewildered, but she saw the lady approach and decided to drop the matter.

“Hi, guys.” She put menus down. “Welcome. I’m Therese. Are you visiting or passing through?”

Isolde bit her tongue. The response was Johnny’s territory. He’d answer according to his plan.

He smiled at Therese. “We spent the night nearby. We may decide to stay a few days. Do some canoeing.”

“Oh, I know. You’re the guests staying at the River’s Edge Road property. It’s real nice and private for a young couple.” She winked at Johnny, and Isolde almost laughed. If she only knew.

“I’m sure it’s equipped for fishing and water sports,” Therese continued. “Anyway, I’ll let you check the menu. Can I bring you something to drink?”

“Isolde?” Johnny asked.

“Coffee and water for me, please,” she said.

“Same.”

“Be right back, and by the way, we’re only doing breakfast, but if you’ve got a hankering for a burger, we could manage one.”

Therese left, and Johnny muttered, “Hankering? ”

“Yeah. As in craving, yearning, desiring something very badly.”

“I know what it means. She surprised me, is all.”

“City people don’t use the term. It’s more of a country, down-home kind of thing.”

“I guess so.” Johnny turned his attention to the menu.

Sighing, she went through the breakfast offerings. But she couldn’t get excited about the choices or shake off her disappointment at this turn of events. She’d put such high hopes on this escapade with Johnny. Now she glanced at long and tedious days in near isolation with a man who’d closed himself off to her. She’d made a terrible mistake.

Therese returned with their beverages, and they gave their order. She turned to leave, but Isolde stopped her. “Is the jukebox working?”

“Sure, but the songs need updating. You’ll find most are country. That is, if you’re thinking about putting coins in. It’ll set you back fifty cents.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t ask me. I’m not giving you any change,” he said moments after Therese left.

“And I’m not asking, you grouch,” Isolde snapped. “I have my own change.” She lifted her small purse.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to bring attention to ourselves.”

“What attention? How? By playing music?” She gestured toward the empty tables. “None of these people give a flying hoot about us. We’re just another tourist couple spending a few days in a small town by the Suwanee River. End of story.”

“Please don’t get upset. I’m only looking out for your safety.”

“Is that what you call your silence…and this…this absence?”

“What absence? I’m right here. Lower your voice, Isolde. You’re almost yelling. ”

“Yelling?” she hissed. “I’m not… You don’t… How dare you?” She could barely speak. And his placid expression made her even angrier.

Folding her arms, she sat back, staring into space. A long silence ensued until a young man arrived with their plates. But now, her appetite was gone. She stabbed at her scrambled eggs, then bit on a crispy rasher of bacon. Hungry or not, she had to admit the food was good.

The front door opened, and three young men entered the place. “Hey, Therese,” one of the guys called out.

“Morning, Buddy,” Therese replied as all three sat at the bar.

Isolde gave them a cursory glance. All three were clean-cut, somewhere in their early twenties, and not bad on the eyes.

“Stop that,” Johnny growled.

Tilting her head, she asked, “Stop what?”

“You know.”

Johnny’s placid expression had disappeared, and so had the distance. He was present and engaged.

The devil whispered sweet nothings in her ear, and she took the suggestion. She rummaged inside her purse, found her wallet, and took out a couple of coins. With a big smile, she pushed back her chair.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Johnny grated.

Ignoring him, she stood and walked to the jukebox. Somewhere in that old list, there had to be a good song.

Don’t do this , the sane part of Isolde warned, but she was beyond any advice and fully committed to this course. Even better than an unraveling thread, she’d found a huge chink in Johnny’s armor. Nothing could stop her from digging at it.

Peering into the glass, she studied the selections. As fate or crazy luck would have it, her eyes fell on B5, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” She dropped the coins and pressed the number .

As the iconic fast-paced fiddle intro filled the restaurant with its rousing sound, Therese laughed, and the three guys sitting at the counter whooped and hollered. The guy Therese had called Buddy rushed to Isolde, and without asking, he whirled her into his arms, going round and round. He was moving her so fast that she only had quick glimpses of Johnny rising to his feet. When the song reached the bridge, she laughed and stepped back from Buddy.

“Aww,” he complained, holding her in place. “Don’t stop. The song’s not over.”

“Isolde.” Johnny’s deep voice rumbled next to her. “We have to go.”

“Oh, but?—”

“You heard me. Now.” He removed Buddy’s hand from her arm.

“Hey. Let go, asshole,” Buddy griped.

“We’re late for an appointment,” Johnny said evenly.

Isolde swallowed. She’d seen fire in his eyes before; this time, she saw deadly ice, and it put the fear of heaven in her soul. She’d pushed him too far.

She gave Buddy an appeasing smile while Johnny, holding on to her wrist, walked out in a hurry. “Thanks. It was fun, but we really must go.”

Johnny said nothing. He just gripped her arm like a vise and pushed the door out without releasing her. Unfortunately for Buddy, he followed them out.

“Yo, long hair. What’s your problem?” he shouted, striding toward the truck. His two friends walked out with him, but didn’t move from the door.

A silent Johnny, pressing his lips to a hard line, led Isolde to her side of the truck, then boosted her into the seat. He walked around to his side, and she squealed in fear and surprise. Buddy blocked Johnny’s way in a threatening stance. Quickly, she hit the truck’s power button to lower the window in time to hear Buddy. “You didn’t answer me, asshole. We teach manners to rude people in this town.”

Buddy was a tall kid. Johnny had a couple of inches on him and years of fighting in an MC. He thrust out his arm, gripped Buddy’s throat with iron fingers, and squeezed, cutting off his air supply. Wild-eyed and fighting for breath, Buddy clawed at Johnny’s hand and arm, fighting to loosen the hold. But Johnny, a deadly expression on his face, didn’t yield or let go. Shouting at Johnny, his friends bolted in their direction.

In a panic, Isolde begged, “Please, let him go.”

She saw no expression on Johnny’s face when he released the young man. Coughing and gasping, Buddy crumpled to his knees. His friends helped him stand, then walked him back to the restaurant.

Calmly, Johnny got in behind the wheel. “I could’ve hurt that kid,” he hissed. “This was on you because you disobeyed. I’m not a boy, Isolde, and I don’t respond to games. Remember that.” He shifted into Drive, but kept his foot off the gas.

“As long as you’re under my protection, you do as I say. You don’t hesitate, or argue back. When this is over, we’ll revisit our situation. If you believe it’s fine to disobey me whenever it suits you, we’re not on the same page and you’re not committed to our relationship.” He shook his head. “I won’t settle for anything less. Much as I hate doing it, I’ll drive you back to your father’s house, where you can do whatever he allows you to do. Until then, my orders are not up for discussion. We’re not a committee or a democracy. We’ll talk when we get home. First, I have to shop for food, and you better behave at the store.”

He spoke in a slow and careful cadence. Stunned to silence, she folded her arms against her burning stomach. The silly high school game of jealousy to make him react had backfired, and badly.

Would he really take her back to Dalton?

No, no, no.

“D—Daddy…I?—”

“No, don’t. You have to earn back the right to call me Daddy.”

Isolde glanced at his handsomeyet stern profile, and a hitched sob escaped her lungs. A stabbing sensation twisted deep in her chest, and she held back a cry of pain. Covering her face with her hands, she swallowed as stark realization and utter determination filled her soul with purpose.

One, her soul was irrevocably bound to Johnny Gun. She loved him more than life.

And two, she’d do whatever was necessary, but she wasn’t letting him go without a fight.