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His four-by-four was equipped with chains and he knew these roads, so rapidly turning around and heading deep into the development was not as crazy for him as it would be for anyone else. Once he reached the other houses, he slowed down just in case someone was out in the road, but thankfully the members of this little hamlet were staying inside. He made it to the home of the one doctor they had, Marcus Devon, without any trouble. After turning off the vehicle, he jumped out, gently picking her up and carrying her to the house, where he kicked the door three times.

  The door opened to Marcus's youngest son Brody, who grinned at him. "Hi, Brent."

  "Hey, Brody. Your dad here? We have someone who was in an accident."

  Alert, Brody nodded and opened the door wide to let Brent in, closing it behind him. "Take her into dad's office. I'll go tell him."

  "Thanks, son," Brent called, walking down a long hallway and into a large room. He hit the light switch with his elbow and a doctor's office lit up, complete with padded table. Laying her on top of it, he looked closely at the left side of her face, relieved to see the bleeding had stopped.

  "Hey, Brent, someone have an accident?" Marcus asked, walking into the room and closing the door behind him as two of his sons were trying to see what was going on.

  "Yes, her truck couldn't make the climb up to her house, and as it slid backward it crashed into a tree. Looks like she banged her head against the side window as well."

  Nodding, Marcus washed his hands before coming over. "So this is the woman who bought Jessup's place," he said calmly as he began to examine her. "Rather startling with her deep black hair. What color are her eyes?"

  Brent responded before he thought about it. "Brown."

  "Hmm," Marcus responded conversationally. "How long has she been out?"

  "Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes."

  "Well, I would like to—" He stopped speaking as Charmagne groaned. "Ahh, the patient is alive," he said in dry amusement.

  Blinking her eyes open, Char moaned as she grabbed her head. A dull pounding came from her left side and she just wished it to go away. Surely she had not hit the seat that hard? Blinking the haze out of her eyes, she was surprised to find herself not in the cab of her truck, but lying flat on her back looking up at two men, one of them Brent Carmichael. "Uh… what am I doing here?"

  The man she did not recognize chuckled. "Ms. Kendle. My name is Dr. Marcus Devon. Do you remember what happened?"

  "My truck hit a tree."

  He smiled and nodded. "And what date is it?"

  "You have got to be kidding me." Wasn't that the kind of question they asked on television?

  Brent coughed and she felt her hand squeezed. "Marcus rarely kids. What date is it?"

  Sighing and rolling her eyes, which made her wince, she told them. "And I just moved here and it snowed more than I expected, and my truck decided not to make it up my hill. Any other stupid questions you want to ask?" Immediately she regretted her tone. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so…"

  Marcus patted her shoulder. "Quite understandable, my dear. I'm not exactly partial to accidents either." He placed a hand in front of her face. "Follow my finger." She did everything he asked, no matter how stupid it sounded, and finally he nodded. "Well, you don't seem to have a concussion, which is good, but if you begin to feel dizzy or have trouble seeing, please call me right away. We have an air lift service that can take you to Denver if you have problems," he explained, going over to a set of drawers. "Are you allergic to anything?"

  "Uh, no?"

  "Good. I will give you a shot for the pain and for inflammation. Then I will bandage up that cut and you should be ready to go. Do you have someone to stay with you tonight?"

  "No, I moved here on my own. I'll be fine."

  "I can stay with her," Brent said. She turned her head sharply to glare at him and then moaned as the world began to shift. "Don't move quickly," he said in a kind voice. "You did hurt your head."

  Duh, she thought, but did not say it aloud. A low chuckle came from Marcus's direction.

  Brent and Marcus spoke in quiet voices as she was given two shots and four stitches. When he finished the tape on her bandage, she was glad. Doctors were not her favorite people.

  "I would like to see you tomorrow," Marcus said as Brent helped her to her feet.

  "I'm sure I'll be fi—"

  "I'll bring her by. What time?" This time she did not swing her head to look at him, but she glared daggers at the floor, imagining it as his face. How dare he just lord it over her?

  And worse, how dare it make her body tingle in a way she had not felt in a very long time?

  "I'm sure I'll be fine," she said after he insisted on carrying her back out to his huge monster truck and setting her in the passenger seat as gently as if she were a baby. "I'll just go to bed the moment I ge—"

  "No, you won't," he said firmly as he put the key in the ignition and started up the beast with a mild roar. "You were in an accident, Ms. Kendle, and hit your head. You need to be watched tonight and, as you don't have someone else to do it, I will."

  The words should have set her off, but strangely she felt taken care of. She was not sure how to feel about that and, as she was not sure how to respond, she changed the subject. "There's all sorts of food in my truck. It's probably frozen by now." Great, she'd just purchased all that food and it would probably be unusable.

  "I texted Lelo to check out your truck. Knowing his wife, Kelli, she would have noticed the food and put it somewhere safe."

  That was… strange. Nice, but strange. Who goes out of their way to look after their neighbors like this? What was this? The twenty-first century version of Leave It To Beaver?

  Even with the pain medication, her head still hurt and she found herself squinting since even though it was dark, there was still a tremendous amount of snow falling and, combined with what was already on the ground, it was rather blinding in the headlights. As Brent turned onto her drive, she tensed, sure that at any moment they would slide backward and this time she would end up in the hospital.

  Surprisingly, his vehicle never swerved or slid once, just made slow and easy progress up the hill. When they pulled around the trees, it was to find her truck and a tractor parked in front of her garage. "I'll get you inside and then talk to Lelo about your truck."

  Okay, so that was taking things a bit too far. It was obvious he was a nice guy, but he was also a bit of a Neanderthal. She could take care of herself; she had been doing it for close to thirty years. The problem was fighting the person inside who was shouting Let him do it, dummy!

  Between the day she'd had and the meds the doctor had given her, she was actually stunned when he suddenly appeared on her side of the truck, quickly undoing her seatbelt and lifting her up just as gently as he'd put her down.

  "Hey, Lelo," he called to a small man with short gray hair and a thin mustache. "Can you bring me her keys?" Before Lelo could answer, her front door opened.

  "Hey, Brent," Kelli called. "Come on in. I turned her heat up and made some hot chocolate too." Her soft voice chatted as he walked in the front door. Looking around in a daze, Char had a hard time figuring out what was different, though something definitely was. "Her bedroom is down the hallway," she informed him, pointing down the hall. "Put her on the bed and I'll come help her change into pajamas."

  Obviously none of these people understood the concept of space. Brent put her down on her bed before untying and then removing her wet shoes and socks.

  "Poor dear," Kelli said soothingly, walking into the room with a mug of hot chocolate. "Go on," she tutted at him, pushing him toward the door. "I'll call you as soon as she's decent."

  He muttered something that sounded like, "Damned mother hen," but it was said in such a pleasant voice, as if it was a compliment rather than a put down, that Char could not pull up animosity for it.

  Kelli smiled softly at her. "How are you feeling, Hon?"

  "Head hurts," she mumbled.

  "I'm sure. Lelo says you hit
your head pretty hard… oh, I see you did. Poor thing. Where are your pajamas?"

  It took a few seconds for the question to make sense to her. "Uh, I don't own any," she admitted. She always slept in the nude.

  "Okay, well I'm going to go look in your closet for something warm for you to wear. Let's get you out of those clothes. You must be freezing." Warm, sure hands helped her out of her shirt and jeans before plumping up the pillows for Char to rest on and pulling her fluffy comforter over her. After handing her the mug of chocolate, Kelli walked over to the closet. "Hon? There's nothing in here."

  Laughing softly, Char nodded. "Yeah, I haven't exactly unpacked yet."

  "That's all right. You stay and drink that and I'll find your clothes. Box or suitcase?"

  "Box."

  It was difficult to keep her eyes open even as she sipped the smooth hot chocolate. It was wonderful. Char wondered if she had used milk instead of water. Whatever her secret, Kelli made a kick-ass cup of hot chocolate.

  "Well, you should probably get some warmer gear, but this will work for now." Kelli walked in with one of Charmagne's college sweatshirts, a pair of sweats, and her bunny slippers.

  Giggling slightly, Char helped Kelli dress her, though in retrospect her helping was probably more of a hindrance, and when she laid back on the bed, she was too exhausted to move. "You sleep now, Hon," Kelli's soft voice said. "I'll go tell Brent you're asleep."

  "'Kay," Char mumbled before drifting into slumber.

  She woke up suddenly, making one of those startled movements where she sat up before she was fully awake, breathing hard and clutching her chest where her heart was beating madly. "Hello?" she called, though unsure why.

  A creak to her right surprised her and she turned her head just as a small lamp came on. Brent walked quickly to her side. "Headache?" he asked, reaching out a hand to touch the side of her face gently.

  "Nightmare. What are you doing here?" She immediately felt stupid for the question as the evening before came back to her. "Sorry. I forgot."

  His lips quirked. "Hitting one's head hard can do that. How are you feeling?" His deep voice was calming and very reassuring for some reason. Without thinking about it, she curled back into bed, her heart beginning to slow down to normal.

  "My head hurts a little," she admitted. "Mostly I just feel… scared." Later on she would worry at having admitted to such a thing, but here in the dark it felt right.

  "That also is normal. You've just had a large move, you're still unpacking, and you have now been in an accident. Any one of those would be jarring, let alone all three."

  That reminded her. "My truck?" She hoped it could be repaired easily. It was only a couple years old and she really did not want to buy a new one.

  "Lelo said the back end is caved in. He will take it to his house tomorrow and check it out. If anyone can fix it, he can." He smiled gently at her and she nodded. Her mother told her never to accept charity from strangers and she would be sure to pay this Lelo person, but for now she would just accept their generosity. "And Kelli got all your food put away. She says you will probably want to rearrange it to how you want it, but it's all in your pantry."

  "Tell them thank you," she murmured as she felt herself become hazy.

  "I will. Would you like a pain pill before you go back to sleep?"

  She never knew if she answered him.

  When she woke up, she saw that this time there was light coming in her windows, the pure white of new snow rather than sunlight, but right now she was happy it was no longer nighttime. Now, in the light of day, she was embarrassed to have let a stranger carry her all over the place, let alone stay at her house all night. Plus, two other strangers had been in her house last night. This could be dangerous. She needed to draw the line that would tell these people to back off.

  Friendships were dangerous, and she did not want to get hurt again. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to her feet and was able to take two steps before the world spun around her, and she screamed as she fell to the floor.

  Standing at the large cooktop, Brent kept his attention on the eggs that were cooking. The last twenty-four hours had been a bit of a wake-up call for him and he was still trying to come to terms with his attraction for the woman a few rooms away. Marcus had noticed it first. It wasn't until Brent informed him of her brown eyes that he realized Marcus was ahead of him. Of course, he knew to some extent he was attracted the moment she opened the door. Tiny, almost elfin, she appeared fragile, and yet there was a strength to her he admired. When he shook her hand, he did not want to let go.

  It had been years since he felt this kind of instant attraction to a woman. The last had been his fiancée, Elizabeth. That relationship had changed many things for him, including the fact that he found out others enjoyed spanking as well. He had always kept that particular desire to himself until Eliza begged him to spank her. Over their five years together, they had developed a wonderful domestic discipline relationship. When cancer took her away from him, it felt like a huge chunk of his heart was ripped away as well.

  Friends of theirs who were also into DD had gathered around him, supporting him in the lowest times of his life. When she was alive, they had talked about how wonderful it would be if they could build a community of people who enjoyed what they did so they did not have to hide it. After her death, his friends Jason, Corbin, and Calbert convinced him it could be done. When he was shot on the job and spent three months in physical therapy overcoming his injuries, he knew he could not go back to his career. Instead, he put all of his energy into researching a legal way to create a spanking-friendly community.

  It took two years of planning before they were able to get all the legal contracts lined up and the okay from the state of Colorado to build it here in the middle of nowhere. Of the thousand single-family dwellings, over four hundred were filled, and they received applications daily. He would admit they were choosy. The last thing they wanted was for someone with a grudge to move in and make life difficult for the rest of them.

  Life here was happy. He kept busy with administering the development, making sure everything ran smoothly. There were twelve single women in the community, and he and the other single men were hit on constantly. They were called upon also when one of the twelve broke one of their laws and had to submit to a spanking. It never occurred to him that another woman would affect him like Eliza did.

  Lelo had been blunt about it last night. "You like her. She's pretty. You better do something before another guy gets her. About damned time you were interested in someone."

  Kelli was worse. "Oooh! Brent, she's sweet. You two will be so cute together. Let me know if you need someone to help mentor her."

  Shaking his head, he turned off the burner and poured the eggs onto a plate he had waiting. Putting down the pan, he turned toward the fridge to get her some orange juice when a loud scream startled him. A cop for fifteen years before he retired, he quickly shifted into alert mode and made his way back to her bedroom, pushing the door open cautiously just in case there was someone there. Instead he found her in a lump on the floor.

  "Dear lord!" he exclaimed in frustration, shaking off the stillness that came with his policeman mindset, quickly picking her up and placing her back on the bed. For such a tiny person, she could certainly get into a lot of scrapes. The dominant part of him wanted to tell her not to move and that if she did, he would turn her over his knee and pound her backside, but that was not acceptable. At least not yet.

  If he had his way – if she could accept spanking and domestic discipline – he looked forward to getting to know her.

  Her eyes slowly opened and she stared at him. "I fell down," she murmured.

  "I know," he said with a huff of laughter. "Stay there. I'll bring you some food."

  "Bathroom," she moaned.

  "What?"

  "I have to go to the bathroom. It's why I fell down the last time."

  "All right. I'll carry you in there and then carry you back when you
're done."

  Chapter 3

  Embarrassed, that's what she was. Char was completely and utterly mortified by the way she acted three days ago. Brent was just being a nice guy, helping her, and instead of acting thankful like any normal person should, she bit his head off and told him to get out of her house and out of her life.

  It was not one of her finer moments.

  She supposed she could come up with excuses: she was tired, hurt, getting over an accident. There were tons to choose from, but none of them were the reason any of this happened. Setting her pen next to the pad of paper she had been glaring at for the last two hours, she knew she was not going to get anything done until she made amends. The paper in front of her was filled with doodles in all the corners so that the paper appeared like a piece of stationary with a border of flowers and leaves, albeit a lined piece of stationary with a border of flowers and leaves. Not one actual word had made it onto the page.

  Leaning back in her desk chair, she forced herself to go over that horrible day. After she fainted and he picked her up off the floor, he had insisted on carrying her into the bathroom. True, he was a gentleman and left her next to the toilet before leaving the room, but still, no woman wanted the man she'd just met and found attractive to think of her in any way associated with such a basic human function.

  Peeing was not sexy.

  Then, after she flushed the toilet, she got to her feet and struggled to the vanity to wash her face, brush her teeth, and try to make herself look less like Medusa when he opened the door. "You should have told me you were done," he chided, putting an arm around her waist. "Hurry up and I'll take you back to bed."

  And it got worse. He brought her breakfast in bed, found and brought her clothing – including her panties and bra – to change into, and to top it off, refused to let her walk anywhere. He carried her out to her living room when she insisted on going there, as well as out to his vehicle when it was time for him to force her to go to the doctor's office.

  By the time they reached Dr. Devon's office, she was speaking to him in a clipped, acid-like tone that he did not even seem to take notice of. In fact, the more acidic she was, the gentler his eyes seemed to become. When the good doctor gave her a vote of confidence, she smacked Brent's hand away from helping her down off the table or, even worse, carrying her out to his truck.