Jack Fawkes sighed as he pulled into Maggie’s driveway with a Christmas wreath on the front seat next to him. He looked down at it as if the dead, festive tree-branch was mocking him. The truth was that he just didn’t feel very Christmasy.
Not that he didn’t respect the holiday’s importance, and for the sake of the townsfolk he even found himself pretending to be into the holiday spirit… But the unfortunate fact was that he was lonely, he was in his thirties, and he was going to get snubbed by Joanna Menard when he walked into the house—he just knew it. With any other girl, some snobbery wouldn’t move him at all. He was the town sheriff and was used to being known as the ‘bad guy’, but Joanna had a way about her that made him feel two feet tall… which he was sure was her intent. She never missed an opportunity to treat him like a possum that had gotten into the basement.
“Time to get this over with,” he said, grabbing the wreath as he left his car.
Her aunt liked him at least. In fact, Aunt Maggie had been a surrogate mother to him while he was in his teens. When his mother was fighting cancer, and eventually died from it, Maggie Menard was always there to make sure his father, his brother, and Jack didn’t die of starvation. She would also snoop enough to make sure he and his brother didn’t get into any amount of regrettable trouble, which he appreciated even today. Hence the wreath, and its painful delivery.
He knocked and put on a grin in preparation for the door being answered. He could hear the sound of someone coming near. Then he heard a muffled voice groan, “Oh, Lord… it’s him.”
“Who?” came a much more distant, nearly inaudible answer.
“Well, answer it and lead him back here. I’m elbow deep in cookie dough!”
The lock clicked and the door opened wide, revealing Jo, who was even more gorgeous than he remembered with her glassy emerald eyes and her long, dark brown hair draped over both shoulders. She wasn’t dressed to impress; despite it being mid-morning, she was still in a long black t-shirt, flannel pajama bottoms, and huge slippers that resembled milk cows. Her expression was even less welcoming than her outfit; she seemed to groan through her eyes.
“Hi,” she said wearily.
“Hey Jo,” he replied with a friendly grin. “Nice slippers,” he teased lightly, looking for some sort of conversation that might make her smile.
“Nice hat,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She didn’t even have to gesture to the fluffy lumberjack flap-hat he was wearing. She stepped aside to let him inside the house, closing the door behind him.
“It is nice,” he assured, trying to take anything she told him with a light attitude. “It’s warm. It’s perfect. Don’t know what I’d do without it.”
“I’m sure your life feels very complete,” she droned, rolling her eyes as she turned away from him and began to walk towards the kitchen. “She’s this way,” she informed over her shoulder. “Take off your shoes.”
He inwardly grumbled, then proceeded to remove his boots just as ungracefully as he feared he would while desperately attempting to make any sort of conversation with Jo that he could. “So, you done with college?” he asked, hopping on one foot while trying to tug off his other boot.
She was obviously not interested, but she slowly turned around and leaned against the door frame. “Yeah,” she answered in a drawl, picking some lint off her sleeve. “Art degree managed.”
“Four-point-oh!” her aunt called from the kitchen proudly.
“Wow,” he said, genuinely impressed. “Great job,” he encouraged with a grin.
Jo met his gaze just briefly, then blushed and looked away from him again. “It’s just an art degree.” She shrugged. “And it took me four and a half years to get it,” she added as if it lessened the achievement. “It’s no big deal.”
“Do you know what you want to do now?”
Jo’s eyes rolled up, her blush gone, and she gave him a robotic stare. He immediately felt unsettled, like he had asked the wrong question, said the wrong thing. It was as if every time he tried to elevate the conversation out of chit-chat, he would get chided for it.
She had long discarded all of their past friendly relationship, but at one point they had been very close. When she was in high school, he had viewed her like an adorable little sister. And then she came home from college on her first break and she had magically transformed into a sex-kitten. Every curve seemed perfect, the way she held herself seemed graceful and mature, and her voice, which was normally giggly, had become very low and measured. She had officially blossomed.
Too bad he had fucked that up a year before her great metamorphosis.
He was about to let his memory turn back to the exact moment when their relationship changed, but he was distracted when she finally answered.
“No.” She didn’t elaborate on that, not taking the bait into more conversation, and instead just led him into the kitchen. She opened her arms and presented him like she was selling a new appliance to her old aunt, who was balling up cookie dough into balls. “There he is! Now, I’m off to the shower. If I don’t come back in an hour, send a search party.”
Crestfallen inwardly, Jack simply watched as Jo shuffled silently out of the room without so much as a ‘goodbye’.
“Merry Christmas, Jack,” Maggie said, her wrinkled face smiling brightly as she walked over with her arms outstretched to hug him even though he was easily a foot taller than her. Her hugs were delightfully warm. They were almost worth having an awkward run-in with her niece.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, picking up the wreath and waving it. “Or Merry Christmas in three days, I should say.” He winked at her playfully.
She clapped her hands together excitedly as she eyed the wreath. “Excellent! Thanks so much! Put it on the table. I’d take it, but I’m sticky with cookie dough.”
“Well, thanks for hugging me then,” he teased.
She waved at him dismissively. “I didn’t get you,” she assured with a smirk. “How are you these days? You haven’t visited in two weeks now! I wondered if you forgot all about me,” she added with a motherly chide.
“Of course not,” he grunted, trying to sound much more chipper than he felt. “I wanted Jo to have time to get situated before I came up,” he assured, looking over at the kitchen island where a large scattering of several different types of cookies sat.
She watched him scavenge for food for a moment before she said, “You know, Jo’s single and here for a while… Why don’t you try asking her out? Maybe for a cup of coffee or something?”
He chuckled. So, Maggie could tell that he was interested in her niece. He knew he shouldn’t be too surprised. Maggie always seemed able to read someone’s intentions in a matter of seconds. He was never able to lie to her.
“Because she might take a swing at me!” he answered, then stole a cookie and took a big bite. Afterwards, he walked towards the fridge and took out some milk—just like he used to do as a teenager. He’d always eat and run, and although Maggie complained about it, she also seemed to nag at him when he didn’t do it often enough.
“She’s interested,” Maggie enlightened with a quiet voice. “Oh, she’s too stubborn to admit it, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
“Like I’m diseased?” he said with a full mouth, unable to let what Maggie was trying to say penetrate his defenses. There was simply no way Jo was interested in him, as painful as it was to swallow, and all the wishful thinking in the world from her aunt wasn’t going to make a bit of difference. “No, I’m afraid I ruined it.”
“If you’re suggesting that she won’t talk to you because once upon a time you spanked her, you’ve got another think coming,” Maggie assured firmly, trying to accentuate her seriousness by pointing a chunk of cookie dough at him. “You hurt her feelings somehow. She holds onto a grudge, but she never stopped liking you. I think you just have to be a little persistent! Look, you need to come over and woo that girl. Try to crack that hard shell of hers. I’m not telling you that you have to be nice, either. Don’t kiss up, but sincere and honest won’t hurt. She’s smart, but she can be as thick as a brick. As can you.”
Reaching for a second cookie, he said, “I don’t know, Maggie. I think you’re seeing something that just isn’t there. Ow!” He sucked air through his teeth as she snapped him on the back of his hand with a wooden spoon.
“Don’t be a pig,” she said. “I’m sending Jo to deliver cookies today. You’re on the list,” she promised. “Why don’t you come up and have some Christmas dinner with the Ruarks, Jo and me?”
He hummed thoughtfully. “Hm, well… As much as I like your next-door neighbors, Mag, the feeling’s not exactly mutual since last week when I busted little Kevin with a DWI. That would create a little bit of awkwardness, I’d say.”
She rolled her eyes. “You just are no good at politics, Jack,” she said with a grin, shaking her head. “But you’re a good boy.”
“Maggie—I’m thirty-two,” Jack reminded with good humor.
“Oh, God! I feel so old,” Maggie sighed exasperatedly.
“I wouldn’t worry about me being anywhere for Christmas, anyway,” he said pessimistically. “I’m gonna be snowed in. So are you, in fact. You’ll be able to make it to the Ruarks, but not into town, for certain. Like I told you on the phone the other day, we’ve got reports of a huge snowstorm heading our way. We’ll all be buried, so if you need to do something, make sure it’s done before mid-afternoon. That’s when they say it’s gonna hit.”
“You don’t have to work?” she asked, sounding concerned. Like a mother, she worried incessantly about Jack, and she would only worry more if he had to drive in horrible conditions in the middle of nowhere; ambulances were famous for not even making trips up to the mountain during storms. It was as if the town was cut off from the world.
“No. I have the day off,” he said, though he didn’t bother pretending to be particularly excited about it. “My deputy begged to work the whole Christmas weekend when he found out his mother-in-law was visiting. He’d rather be snowed in at the office than with her…”
“Well, maybe some time to yourself is what you need this year, Jack. I think you need to do some soul-searching, honey. I know you’re unhappy.”
He was suddenly getting uncomfortable about how pensive Maggie was getting in her old age. “I’m happy. Perfectly, wonderfully gaga about life,” he exaggerated, wishing with all his might it was true.
She sighed and raised an eyebrow. Finally, she just threw her hands in the air as if she surrendered. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep out of it,” she promised. “It’s your life…”
“That’s right,” he said with a nod. “It’s my life… And my cookie.” He mischievously snatched his hand out and grabbed a cookie before she could react. Then he walked over and kissed her on the cheek before he turned to leave, shoving the cookie in his mouth as he did so. “Merry Christmas if I don’t see you ‘til after. Call me if you have any emergencies,” he offered, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t. Maggie’s house was stable, her pantries were stocked better than most castles, and although she had a bad hip, she had close neighbors and a niece to help her with chores.
He knew she was right, though. He did need to do some soul-searching. His life wasn’t turning out like he had hoped it would. He had become sheriff when he was twenty-eight, but it didn’t seem like he had progressed much after that. He knew he needed a big change; he just didn’t know what that was going to be. Luckily, he had Christmas to sit by himself and figure it out.
Jo stood motionlessly in the shower, deep in thought, just letting the water flow over her.
Whenever she saw Jack, she could barely think of anything else for a long time. She hated how her emotions were so conflicted. On the one hand she didn’t want anything to do with him, but on the other she thought he was the most gorgeous, wonderful man alive.
She figured most of the things that made her nearly swoon when she saw him were only emotional remnants of her past. Growing up, she thought the man walked on water. He was nearly ten years older and he acted like he was twenty years older. When she was still in high school, it already seemed like Jack had his life figured out. He was fresh out of the military after two tours of duty, and it seemed like everything he did, and everything he said, was just perfect.
She wasn’t alone in her thinking, either. All the other girls in her school felt the same way about him. It was impossible not to. Jack was tall and had a fine, chiseled body, a hard jaw line, sharp, piercing blue eyes… Everyone thought that he was all that is man.
And, out of all the girls in town, she was the one that got to see the most of him. Because of his connection to her aunt, he lavished attention on her. She figured now that he did that because he was trying to help her get through the shock of her parents’ death—maybe because he had experience when it came to loss. His mother died when he was a teenager as well, and he was no stranger to grieving.
He had spoiled her, which was exactly what she needed at the time. He would bring her thoughtful little gifts, take her out to movies, and drive her to Bend, Oregon to go shopping. He would even pick her up and drop her off at school constantly, making her the envy of every girl she knew. Not to mention, having a handsome guy in his mid-twenties give her so much public attention made her popular in a new school.
She hadn’t been a good student before her parents’ car accident, but Jack had been able to keep her focused enough to get the grades she needed for college. Her world had seemed more and more right every day, even though the high school crowd that existed in the small town was quite a rough, tight-knit bunch, and it was hard to stay out of trouble.
So by the time she was a senior, she was well liked enough to get invited to everything—every party, every camping trip, every concert. Maggie was oblivious, and Jo had begun to keep Jack, who was the town’s sheriff by then, as much at bay as she could. But the more she separated herself from him, the more suspicious he became.
Suspicious or not, and however much he seemed to be on her case, she loved it. And after starting her senior year, she came to realize that she was in love with him. And since she was at that age where everyone seemed to be hooking up in the back of old Chevy trucks, or underneath the football bleachers, she decided that she wanted Jack Fawkes to be her first—who else was more perfect? She wasn’t attracted to anyone else; nobody else held a candle to him. No one held the type of magic she felt Jack was capable of. And since he spent so much time with her, she felt that she wasn’t too off-base in thinking he might reciprocate her feelings.
She moved her hand down her tummy as she let herself think of Jack the way she used to, which was actually quite easy. It felt like it was yesterday. She’d never known how to seduce him back then—not that she did now—but she could remember how badly she’d wanted to be his. To feel his stubble against her cheek, his chest against hers, a kiss so passionate she was sure she’d come all over his cock the moment he threw her on his bed and claimed her with one thrust…
Leaning against the shower wall as if she was pinned to it by the man she needed inside her so desperately—both then and now—she let her mind wander through the long list of shameful things she wanted Jack to do to her, rubbing her clit furiously until she was on the brink of climax.
Then she remembered the moment her hopes were dashed. The day Jack spanked her.
It had been the most devastating yet also the most erotic thing her brain could comprehend.
Maggie had gone to visit a close friend for a week in February of Jo’s senior year, and this had seemed like the perfect time to seduce Jack. She had just turned eighteen, she was alone, she had a whole house to herself, and Jack seemed very determined to do a lot of ‘checking up’ on her.
The only problem was her friends, who were loveable opportunists. When it became known that she wouldn’t be under the watchful eye of her aunt for a whole week, her girlfriends had taken advantage of the situation. That had been fine with Jo; she wanted to kick back and hang out, and she figured Jack couldn’t stop by even half as often as she wished he would. He worked, after all.
Maggie had left Saturday morning, and by that afternoon Jo and her girlfriends were already hanging around the house with a cabinet full of liquor and a Ziploc full of weed, giggling with each other and talking about boys in their class. Talking and giggling grew into action and her friend Jane actually called one of the subjects of their conversation, which in turn got them all invited to go up to the ski slopes with the boys. They were happy to provide the booze, of course, which wasn’t going to be a hardship thanks to Maggie not locking up the liquor cabinet.
But just as they had hauled the cooler into the back of her aunt’s Chevy, the sound of tires at the bottom of the driveway had made them all think incredibly sober thoughts. Jo could still picture Jack as he strolled up the driveway with his hands in his pockets, his expression growing more suspicious—and more dangerously, deliciously stern—with every step.
Remembering the look in his blue eyes, she found her clit with her fingers. His expression could be so intense… It sent butterflies flocking everywhere, but it also made her naughtiest parts come to life. She soon lost control of her arousal, and within moments she was moving her hand lower to slide her index finger deep into her aching pussy. She stifled a moan as she continued replaying her memories of that day like some sort of horribly, shamefully arousing car wreck.
“Hi, Jack!” she welcomed with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “How ya doin’?” she continued sing-songishly, tilting her head innocently and even batting her long eyelashes.
“Just checking on you,” he answered, looking towards the house and then back at Jo and her friends. “You girls off somewhere?”
She looked over at Jane and Mary, both of whom swooned in silence for a moment before one of them answered shyly, “Yeah… We’re off to meet Russell and Peter at the slopes.”
“Sounds like fun,” he replied off-handedly, his eyes going from girl to girl. “You remembered to turn off the stove and everything, right?” he asked as he started to walk towards the house. “And the heater?”
“I forgot the heater,” Jo answered with a hiccup she tried to pass off as a cough. “Could you turn it off for me, Jack? We’re kinda in a hurry.”
“Sure,” he replied. “I’ll turn it off, but hold on.” Jack held up a finger to signal her to wait before disappearing into the house.
Mary and Jane looked over at Jo with extremely nervous expressions. “He’s alright,” Jo assured with a relaxed wave of her mitten. “He’s probably just coming back out to tell us to turn on the headlights and to wear our seatbelts.” Jo rolled her eyes, but as she looked towards the house she added with an adoring smile, “He acts like I’m five.”
The girls giggled, clearly starting to feel more at ease as they began climbing into the truck.
Jack seemed to be in the house for quite a few minutes before he came back out just as Jo was checking which of the dozen pockets of her winter coat she might have left the keys in. He walked right up to the driver’s side and opened her door. Then, with no warning whatsoever, he reached across and took off her safety belt before yanking her out of the car by her upper arm.
Jack was so fucking strong. It was easy to forget sometimes how he could pick her up like a ragdoll, as if she weighed nothing at all. Her pussy twitched and her fingers built up speed as she pictured him holding her up against the shower wall and fucking her. Then her mind returned to that day, thoughts of which should have dampened her arousal but didn’t seem to be at the moment.
“Everybody out,” he ordered the other girls, pointing at the far side of the car while he kept his tight grip on Jo’s arm. He wheeled her over to the back of the truck just in time to meet the other girls there, who now had nervous grimaces on their faces.
After releasing Jo’s arm, he opened the back of the Chevy. Reaching into the truck with an angry grunting noise, he grabbed the cooler inside and dragged it toward him before opening it.
Jo hiccupped again, wondering if she had ever been so ashamed. She looked over at Jane and Mary, and though their expressions conveyed anxiety they both also had a look of resolve that seemed to communicate that none of them were allowed to break down and admit to anything. They watched silently as Jack opened the cooler, looked inside, and then closed it again.
He heaved a loud, disappointed-sounding sigh before slowly turning back around and crossing his arms. He looked at them all—but especially Jo—accusingly. “Well, Miss Menard? Do you have any amazingly riveting reason for having Maggie’s entire bar in that cooler?”
Red faced and guilty, Jo realized that she didn’t have the will to look him straight in the face. Her eyes lowered, instead, to the area around his navel.
“I didn’t think so,” he said. “Minor in possession?” He held out his hand. “Give me the keys, Jo. I’m driving your friends home. Playdate over. Wherever you kids were going is not where you need to be.”
With an angry, thwarted huff, and finding no way to defy him, Jo checked her coat pockets again until she finally found the keys in her pants. She walked up to him and put them roughly into his open hand. Then, very suddenly, his facial expression went from disappointed to angry. Quick as a flash, he grabbed her coat and took a couple of hard sniffs of her. She blushed at the audacity, wondering what she had just done that tipped him off to investigate her further.
“Have you already been drinking?” he demanded.
“No,” she lied stoutly, glaring at him.
“Do you want me to get my breathalyzer?” he challenged further.
She had taken a single swig at that point; she was mostly just high. She could have sworn she heard one of the girls gulp, but she wasn’t too alarmed by the threat—she would love him to go search his car for his breathalyzer, if he even had it in there. That would give her time to go behind a bush and use her very impressive gag-reflex to get rid of the evidence, eat some snow, chew a mint, and be back in time to evade his wrath. “Go ahead,” she dared. “We haven’t been doing anything. We weren’t even going to drink it. We were going to watch the boys do it.”
Jo frowned at the memory. Jack could have been cool, here. He could have just kept her from going up the mountain, sent her friends home, and then took her inside to fuck the daylights out of her. That really would have turned their story around, especially because Jo liked to imagine the way he would have fucked her. He had been pretty angry, so the fucking would have been so deliciously rough, especially for her first time. There was no way he didn’t have a beautiful cock; his hands and feet were huge, everything had to match…
Oh God, she still wanted his cock so bad. Bad enough that she was playing with her clit while reliving the most humiliating moment of her life just because he’d been part of that moment.
“Uh huh,” he said disbelievingly, letting go of her jacket and narrowing his eyes as he stared her down. She knew he was upset; there was a vein in his neck she’d never seen before, and she hadn’t seen him lock his jaw like that either. After a long moment he pulled his jacket sleeve over his watch to look at it. “Alright. You’d better make it to ten. Stand on one foot… All of you.”
Jane and Mary definitely gulped this time.
“Ready?” he asked, eyeing them. Jo, unlike the other girls, felt confident. “Go. One—”
She’d never imagined she could actually be drunk or high enough not to be able to stand on one foot for ten seconds, but she couldn’t even balance herself long enough for him to reach two. Whether Jane or Mary could have lasted longer was never discovered, because as soon as Jo failed, Jack grabbed the scruff of her jacket and hauled her back over to the trunk of the Chevy.
Before she even knew what his intentions were, he had quickly and effectively unzipped the front of her pants, moving faster than she would have thought possible. Less than half a second later, her panty-clad bottom was draped over his knee. When she looked for help from her friends with a horror-struck expression on her face, she could tell they weren’t even going to move. They were paralyzed with shock and guilty fascination.
Wordlessly, Jack raised his hand high and brought it down mercilessly upon her barely covered behind. Another stinging swat quickly followed, then a third and a fourth, and she soon lost count as she squeaked and bucked and tried desperately to wiggle off of his lap. He spanked with purpose, as if he had only this one shot to get through to her and he wasn’t going to waste it.
“You can think you’re put on this world to do whatever you want, Joanna Lynn Menard, but you will not drive drunk in my town. It makes me sick that as soon as your aunt leaves you alone for a second, you throw her trust away and endanger your life and the lives of your friends!”
She hoped the scolding meant he was almost done, but the spanking went on and on and she couldn’t do anything about it. When she tried to shield herself with one of her mitten-covered hands, he just pinned it to her lower back with his free hand and continued blistering her bottom.
Jo stretched with shameful pleasure as she remembered how he’d heated her backside. At the time it had been nothing but a horrible, humiliating punishment, one that had kept her from sitting until the next morning, but now the memory of his firm hand landing over and over on her quivering bottom had her on the brink of climax. What would it have felt like if he’d bared her?
“Please… Please stop! Stop this!” She was tipsy—more than just tipsy, if she was being honest—but she was well aware of how utterly humiliating it was to be chastised this way. Not only like a small child, not only at eighteen years or age, but in front of two of her closest friends.
Those friends, by the way, were completely worthless to her. They obviously weren’t even considering any sort of intervention. They looked like they had been struck by a bolt of lightning and were probably praying that they weren’t next.
Jack’s hand was very large, very strong, and did a very efficient job at setting her bottom ablaze. The sting he was building in her backside was shocking—she couldn’t in a thousand years compare it to any sunburn she had ever had—and in no time at all she was reduced to tears.
Jo apologized. She apologized for everything she had ever done—every lie, every prank, everything. She promised, in fact, never to do anything else wrong for the rest of her life. Halfway through this litany of apologies she was offering as if there were magic words that could make this assault stop, her cries went from sharp screams to breathy sobs, complete with eyefuls of tears.
It didn’t deter Jack. He landed at least fifteen more smacks as she sobbed over his knee before he finally helped her rise from his lap. She turned away from him then to pull her pants up gingerly over her scalded flesh, but she remained unable to stop crying or to take a normal breath.
She dreaded making eye contact with him, and when she finally did, she found absolutely nothing apologetic in his expression. His face was hard as stone with no signs of remorse to be found anywhere about him. “I want you to keep out of trouble, you hear?” was all he said.
Wiping a mitten across her face to clean her tears off, she nodded.
“Alright. Say goodbye to your friends, then get in the house and stay there until I get back. You and I are going to have a long talk about driving safely, little girl,” he informed, then watched as she turned to her friends, who were still stunned beyond words, their faces as white as snow.
“Oh, God…” Jo closed her eyes, remembering exactly how that moment had felt. Her ass had been sore for a while, but it seemed like her pussy was now soaked for life. She pressed herself against the shower wall and let herself buck against her hand, her body pulsing with her orgasm.
Even after her climax subsided and her mind cleared, Jo’s cheeks still blushed at the memory. She had been incredibly lucky that neither Jane nor Mary ever told a soul about what had happened. They blamed not making it up to the slopes on a flat tire, and they had never brought it up with each other since.
Afterwards she had gone inside the house, locked the doors, and cried herself to sleep. Jack had come back, that she knew, because there had been a blanket over her when she woke up. The next day he had stopped by, hoping she would go to church with him, but she refused. She vowed she would never go anywhere with him again. She was deaf to his explanations as to why she deserved the spanking, and even when Maggie—to whom Jack had confessed the whole matter—openly told her that she backed him up, Jo remained far too hurt to ever forgive him.
Despite the fact that it was now something she masturbated to, the spanking had ended Jo’s dreams of a future with Jack Fawkes that day. Not so much because of the embarrassment he’d caused, or even the spanking itself, but because the punishment gave her insight into how he must have seen her. She had been Jack’s project, his charity case. He obviously viewed himself as more of a babysitter than a potential romantic partner or even a friend. How could he love someone he so obviously saw as a child? Certainly not in the way she wanted to be loved by him, she’d decided.
She washed her own slick desire off in the hot water, disgusted at herself.
“What the hell’s wrong with me?” she snapped, banging her head in frustration against the shower wall. How could such a thing have aroused her so much for so long? How could she have Jack in authority over her—which made her feel so safe and loved—but still have him see her as a woman and not some kid he had to look out for?
You can’t, her mind informed her harshly. You can’t have both. And you shouldn’t like a chauvinistic, narcissistic woman-beater like Jack Fawkes anyway. What’s the matter with you?
It was then that Jo realized she had been so in deep thought that she had shampooed twice.
She sighed. This man will be the death of me.