Tied to Home

By Diana Hunter

Explore the fictional coastal town of Port Clef, Connecticut where the unexpected always happens. Love and sex is in the air, especially when the lock on a pair of handcuffs breaks in TIED TO HOME, Diana Hunter’s contribution to this wonderful new series. Her predicament is his opportunity.

Delve into the entire Sweet Spot series by The Sizzling Scribes: Ruby Storm, Cait Miller, Lynn LaFleur, Tara Nina, Diana Hunter, Arianna Hart & Tielle St.Claire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diana Hunter
• Release date: Oct 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301811182

Diana Hunter

Diana Hunter became interested in writing stories with bondage and D/s themes when she found a dearth of them on the web. Nothing she read seemed to have the romantic element she knew was possible in such relationships. Challenged by a friend to write a better one, she wrote her first full-length novel, Secret Submission. Each book Diana writes contains a kernel of truth or deeply held conviction from her own life, but don’t ask her where truth ends and fantasy begins...she’ll never tell! When not writing, Diana is usually at her loom, weaving thread lines of a different sort. Married for over thirty years to the same man, she is grateful for all the wonderful encouragement he gives her.

Book preview

Tied to Home

By

Diana Hunter

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Diana Hunter

All rights reserved

Discover other titles by Diana Hunter at

http://www.dianahunter.net

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Cover Design: Katherine Duprey

Chapter One

Matt Carter roared into Port Clef on his Harley, figuring a showy entrance made with flair and panache might just keep his cousin from rolling his eyes and demanding money.

Not that Matt owed Brian a lot. A thousand dollars wasn’t much, was it? Not to a settled family man with a wife and a kid, a man who owned his own business and who belonged to the local Rotary.

Giving the engine a little more gas, he gunned down the street, turning at the last minute into Doyle Automotive, the garage his cousin had started from scratch nearly ten years ago. Weaving between a waiting pickup truck and a VW Beetle up on blocks, he pulled into one of the two bays, sliding the back end of the bike as he came to a stop inches from his cousin’s toes.

Brian crossed his arms over his chest as two workers Matt didn’t know stopped what they were doing in the other bay and stood to watch the show. From past experience, Matt knew Brian could throw a magnificent tantrum when he wanted. Grinning at his cousin, he turned off the motor and kicked down the stand as he dismounted. Best defense was a good offense, his daddy always said.

Hey, Bri. He threw his arms wide, ready to enfold the larger man in a huge hug. Life is good, man.

For a heartbeat he thought his cousin might backhand him instead of giving him a hug. But then he broke out in a huge grin and pulled Matt into a close embrace more like brothers.

Matt, I was getting worried, Brian confessed as they parted.

The two employees moved closer and Brian frowned. Don’t you two have work to do? With alacrity, they turned and pretended to get back to their tasks.

Matt laughed. Still the tyrant, I see.

Always. Come on in the office.

They passed through a glass door into a waiting room with a high counter separating the seating area from the workspace. Brian nodded to the female customer who sat engrossed in a crossword puzzle, not paying them any attention. Matt followed his cousin through a second glass door into an office that needed a thorough cleaning. And organizing, Matt amended as he eyed the stacks of receipts, bills and other assorted paperwork every business seemed to accumulate. Brian swiped a pile from his desk chair and plopped it on the floor. With a wave, he indicated the room’s only other chair, similarly piled with papers.

Sit down and tell me why you haven’t answered any of my calls. Hell, I even texted you once. Took me forever but I did it. And you didn’t even answer it. Where the hell have you been for the last year?

Matt scooped up the papers and held them out to Brian who shrugged and indicated a less-full corner. Really, Bri? This is your filing system? Ignoring the mess, he dropped the papers and turned the chair, straddling it and resting his arms along the back.

Yeah, well, once little Brian was born, Cathy decided she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. I haven’t gotten around to hiring a new girl.

Matt snorted. Whoever you hire’s going to need a backhoe on this mess.

You’re avoiding the question, Matt.

He was, but wasn’t about to admit it. Let’s just say your office takes my breath away. Got anything to drink?

Without taking his eyes from his cousin, Brian reached behind him to a small fridge and pulled out two diet sodas. He tossed one to Matt and popped the top on the other. Matt held up the can. Generic cola? Since when? What happened to the beer?

Since I put on twenty pounds when Cathy was pregnant. And the real stuff’s expensive.

Matt opened the can and downed the soda in one long pull. You’re right. Not as good as the real stuff. And definitely not as good as a beer.

Where’ve you been, Matt?

Here and there.

Brian said nothing, only waiting for a real answer. Matt set down his empty on a pile of papers. He wasn’t going to fess up no matter how serious Brian’s expression. He deflected the topic again. How’s Cathy doing? She enjoying motherhood?

Seems to.

And little Bri? How old is he now?

Two.

Matt chuckled, but it felt forced even to him. Terrible twos, hm?

Not so terrible yet.

Silence dropped between them. Matt had no more small talk and Brian obviously wanted answers. The big, open-armed welcome he’d hoped for apparently went only so far. He made one more attempt to deflect his cousin.

How are Aunt Donna and Uncle Stu? Brian’s parents had pretty much raised Matt when his own parents were killed in a plane crash when Matt was thirteen. Brian was only a few months older and the two had always been close as kids.

But after his parents’ deaths, Matt had turned to rebellion, fighting his depression with his fists. Brian always brought him home, often bloody and beaten, and his aunt and uncle always took him in, bandaging him up and sighing over a grief they didn’t really understand. They had moved on, why couldn’t Matt?

They’re well.

Brian’s short answers annoyed Matt. He should’ve known better than to expect a parade for the prodigal cousin. He stood. Well, thanks for the soda. Guess I’ll be on my way.

He took a step toward the door. The ice in Brian’s voice stopped him. Mom’s got cancer. Where the hell have you been?

The news hit Matt as if someone slammed him against a brick wall. He wheeled to face his cousin. Aunt Donna? Cancer? What kind?

What do you care? The kind that kills.

Matt’s breath caught and he fought to get his nonchalant mask back on straight. I care, Brian. She’s…she’s my aunt. It sounded lame even in his ears. But how to explain Aunt Donna’s place in his life? While she hadn’t exactly become his second mother, she was his mother’s sister and that made her damn near close. The first time Aunt Donna had bandaged up a skinned knee after Matt had gotten in a fight with Billy Owen, the class bully, Matt had cried, not because it hurt, but because she had the same careful hands as his mother. Sometimes he got in fights just so Aunt Donna would patch him up and he could glimpse his mother again.

Brian, look, I know I’m not around much…

Ever, Brian interjected.

Matt ignored him. …but I love your parents. A lot. I’ll go see them now.

He took another step toward the door but Brian’s hand on his arm stopped him. Matt stood surprised, he hadn’t known his cousin could move so fast.

Not until you tell me what’s going on.

Part of him wanted to tell Brian to fuck off, the other part wanted to fess up. For once, the better sense won.

I’m broke.

Brian let go of his arm and turned away in disgust. What else is new?

I had an investment that went bad. Retirement community in Florida.

Brian said nothing, only crossing his arms over his chest again as he waited for Matt to spill it all.

Matt gave a dramatic sigh. Old folks always need assisted living places. Found a couple of investors and joined in. How was I to know the land wasn’t buildable? Whole state’s nothing but a swamp, I find out.

You’re not getting another handout, Matt.

He hid the desperation. I can see that. Not with Aunt Donna… He stopped talking lest his voice break and give away how close to the edge he really stood.

Brian’s voice softened, but didn’t relent. I’m sorry, coz. I just can’t. The business is doing great and the tourists will return in another week, which is a plus, but that means more work. With mom’s bills though, and Cathy expecting again…

Matt looked up. Expecting? You’re having another baby?

Brian didn’t even bother trying to hide his grin. She’s twelve weeks along. First trimester’s done and over with so she’s stopped throwing up every other morning and gotten some energy back. A shadow passed over his face. I don’t want to bring this baby back to an apartment. If the season is good, we think we can afford a house. He narrowed his eyes. And if I don’t throw good money after bad.

Matt’s shoulders drooped in earnest. Point taken. He gestured toward the mess of an office. Don’t suppose you could use another hand this summer? I’m good with bikes and I know how to file.

Brian studied him as if he’d proposed something outlandish and Matt laughed. It’s okay, coz. I’ll find something. Didn’t mean to put you on the hot seat.

His cousinBrian turned to survey the catastrophe that was his filing system. I just wish I trusted you to stay.

A small hope ignited in Matt’s chest. You know me, Bri. No moss grows on me. He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. But I could give you the season. It’s May fifteenth, yes? I’ll give you ‘til September first. Three and a half months and that’ll be two weeks longer than I’ve stayed in one place for the past eight years.

Brian turned to face him, his look hard. I hire you and you work for half-pay the first five weeks. That’ll pay me the thousand you owe me. You spend your time playing secretary, he gestured to the piles of papers, but if we get a bike in, I’ll let you take a look before I assign it out. You might get it, you might not. But mechanical work pays five dollars more an hour.

Matt knew a good deal when he saw one but he didn’t want Brian to think he was that hard up. I get my room back over the garage at your mom and dad’s, no rent.

Brian stuck out his hand. Deal.

Deal.

They shook and, as if by magic, their antagonism dropped away. Brian put his arm around Matt’s shoulder and gestured out the door. "Lunch first and you tell me the