Finding Submission (Service & Submission Book 1) (2 page)

“Lick me dry, Kitten.” The sound of her new bells hadn’t stopped yet.

When Avery had cleaned him thoroughly, he pulled her up into his arms and kissed her forehead. “Such a good girl.”

“Sir. I love my new collar. Is it okay if you find me staring at it in every mirror in the house?”

“It would be my pleasure to find you staring at it. It looks even better on you than I anticipated.”

Chapter 1

Avery Beauchamp looked at her checkbook — the car payment was due that day, and she didn’t get paid for two more days. She had already pushed the due date back two weeks. It
had
to be paid today. She could call her father — he’d come to the rescue before and would do it again. But Avery wasn’t willing to eat enough crow for that. She was
not
going to be the first one to give in; she’d wait until he contacted her first.

Judge Beauchamp loved his only daughter and doted on her. But when she’d walked out six months ago, she’d proclaimed loudly that she would do it alone with no help from him. She could’ve stayed at home and continued with her comfortable life, but her father wanted her to follow the house rules as long as she lived there. She was twenty-four and had graduated from college; she wasn’t a child who needed a curfew and rules. He wanted her to be home by midnight during the week, and two in the morning on Friday and Saturday. She hadn’t had a curfew since she’d left home. He‘d reduced her allowance, forcing her to get a job, but she didn’t qualify for anything with her degree in International Relations. And she refused to work as a cashier in any of the local stores.

The last straw occurred the night she came home at two in the morning —on a weeknight. Her father had been waiting for her in the living room.

Judge Grayson Beauchamp had flicked the lamp on in the living room when she entered the house. “Avery Rose, what time were you supposed to be home, young lady?”

Avery’s hand had grabbed at her chest. “My God, Daddy, you scared me to death!”

“Answer the question, please.” He’d dropped his chin looking at her.

“Midnight. But Daddy, we were at the local coffee shop listening to a jazz band. We lost track of time.”

She hadn’t been happy with the interrogation and had let him know it.

“I don’t care where you were. Rules are rules for a reason, and you know me well enough by now to know that I don’t back down from my rules.” The Judge had paused, staring at his only daughter. “Your disregard has consequences. You’ll now be required to be home by eight o’clock for a week.”

Avery had adjusted her stance and put a hand on her hip. “Are ya freaking kidding me? Daddy that’s ridiculous and you know it.”

“I know no such thing. My rules aren’t to be ignored, young lady, and an earlier curfew for a week will remind you of that.”

“I’m done with this. I’m moving out. I need to get an apartment. I just posted an ad on Craig’s List offering my services as a housecleaner in Brentwood. There are enough rich people out there; I should be able to get a few houses lined up. Enough to pay my own rent.”

“That’s your decision. I’ll pay your rent for the first two months and help you move out. Until then, however, you’ll follow my rules.” He’d raised an eyebrow at her and continued. “And you’ll be home by eight o’clock every night for the next week, and then follow my curfew until you leave. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She’d have agreed to anything until she could get out from under his thumb.

Now, here she was with two Rolex watches in her hand. She’d stolen them from the Johnson’s house. Paula and David Johnson had a drawer filled with Rolex watches — his and hers watches. They wouldn’t notice they were missing. Or so she thought. She knew that if she sold them at the pawn shop, she’d have enough money to pay her car payment. She’d never done anything like this though, and was a nervous wreck.

Avery knew that twenty miles or so outside of Brentwood, she’d be able to find a pawn shop. They were everywhere in that neighborhood and if she wasn’t sure, all she had to do was ask. She parked her car along the crumbling curb in front of the pawn shop, and walked in.

It was a quiet night, and she seemed to be the only customer in the shop. The guy behind the counter greeted her, “Hey, good evening. Can I help you?”

“Uhm. Well, I have these Rolex watches and I need to sell them.” She pulled them out of the pocket of her leather coat, putting them on the counter.

“Wow. These are beautiful. Where’d you get your hands on these?” His eyes narrowed. “You’re kinda young to have one Rolex, let alone two.”

Shit. What are you going to do now, Avery?

“They were a gift from my father. He gave them to me for high school and college graduation.” The lie rolled right off her lips. It concerned her at times like these how easily lies came to mind. She tried to not look nervously at the man.

“Well, let me go to the backroom and check out the value for these. I’ll come right back with a price for ya. Look around and enjoy yourself. I’ll be about ten to fifteen minutes.” He winked at her, walking away with the watches.

Avery meandered around the store, looking at swords, baseball cards, comic books, and dolls. The shop had an amazing record collection. She was totally engrossed in looking at the records from the seventies and eighties when she heard the bell above the door jingle. She glanced over her shoulder to see a police officer walk in. Her heart leapt in her chest.

Oh God, is he here for me?

Avery contemplated simply leaving, but if the cop wasn’t there for her, that would make her look guilty. And she needed the money for her car payment, she had to wait. Unsure of what to do, she focused on the stack of albums in front of her, trying to look casual.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” The police officer suddenly said, standing behind her.

Avery gasped, turning around. “Yes, Sir?”

“Are you Avery Rose Beauchamp?” The officer questioned, looking at his notebook verifying her name.

“Yes, Sir. Is something wrong?” She swore her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.

“Miss Avery Rose Beauchamp, you’re under arrest for stealing two Rolex watches from Paula and David Johnson. In addition, you’re under arrest for possession of stolen goods and trying to sell the previously stated stolen goods.” He handcuffed her and read her her Miranda rights.

Avery knew enough about the law to keep her mouth shut and go with the officer without a fight.

Chapter 2

Preston was annoyed with the commute from his new house. It was only thirty minutes but with the chores and fixing up his house needed, he found himself increasingly tired — waking up earlier was putting a strain on him. He had been at Dixon and Gordon Law Offices for over ten years and had established himself as a skilled attorney with a good reputation. He didn’t like having to drive to Nashville from his house in Old Hickory, but it was necessary at this point. He would just have to that get used to it, like everything else in his life.

He stretched his long legs out of his Mercedes, standing to his full height. He adjusted his dark suit, pulling on the length of his sleeves so the correct amount of dress shirt was visible past the hem of the jacket. He reached into the car, pulling out his briefcase. He quickly ran his fingers through his dark hair, fixing it after his drive in with the windows open. He inhaled the fresh spring air, looking up he couldn’t see a cloud in the sky and there were geese flying overhead announcing with their honking that they were home for summer. A new beginning — for him and for his house.

He’d always wanted an old house, one with orchards, barns, little buildings and shacks with the possibility of horses, dogs, and chickens. He couldn’t believe his fortune when a fellow lawyer’s sister who was a real estate agent found this beautiful house from the 1860s that had great potential. The elderly couple that had owned it had been there their whole marriage, and none of their children wanted to move back home to keep the house. The wife had been born and raised in that house. There were antiques everywhere. The attic, barns, out-buildings and sheds were filled with old tools, china, stoneware, tables, stoves, trunks, dresses and much, much more. He really needed to go through all those buildings and categorize the items, figure out what he wanted to keep and what he wanted to sell. But, again, with the job he had it was difficult to find the time. He struggled with simply cleaning the house, let alone organizing and categorizing everything else. The elderly couple obviously had found it difficult to keep up with the housekeeping near the end, and when he’d first moved in he’d actually found himself dusting and vacuuming more than looking for antiques. He needed to enlist the services of a cleaner, someone who had the knowledge and ability to clean in an organized manner.

He looked down at his watch. He had twenty minutes to get to his office, organize his paper work and make it to court. He waved to the security guard, swiping his badge in the badge reader waiting for the door to open. He made his way to the elevator while Brittney, the receptionist, waved to him from the front desk. She flirted with him often and he found himself thinking again that he should probably ask her out, but she just wasn’t his type. She was tall and willowy, lithesome with wispy strawberry blonde hair, and a smattering of freckles on her nose — and very bubbly. Just not his type.

“Hi Preston” Brittney said, jumping up from her chair behind the modern, silver reception counter. “You have a message from Judge Morton’s office, Sir.”

“Hi Brittney. How are you today, sweetheart?” Preston reached for the little pink message slip. He directed his attention to the note, turning toward the elevator and pressing the up button several times, ignoring the fact that Brittney was openly staring at him.

“You have a good day, Preston!” Brittney waved from behind the desk, her cheeks flushed.

Absent-mindedly, Preston turned and said, “Oh, I’m sorry. You too, Britt.”

The elevator dinged, and he stepped in, deep in thought.

The note from Judge Morton indicated that he had a new case that had been added at the last moment, scheduled first on the docket this morning.

Damn!

This didn’t go with his plans for the day. He liked orderly schedules without inconvenient interruptions. He looked at his watch again. He had ten minutes to get to the Judge’s chambers.

The elevator doors opened and his legal secretary was standing waiting for him, “You received the message from Judge Morton, I’m assuming?”

He walked past her quickly, talking over his shoulder. “Yes, I got it. Thank you, Liz. I don’t have much time, but how was your weekend?”

“Good! The grandkids came to the house and we spent our whole weekend dealing with diapers, squabbles, naps, paint, crayons, and the Cartoon Network.” She followed him into his office. “And I have to tell you Preston, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Preston stopped, shuffling through his papers and giving her a smile. “I’m so happy for you, Liz. It sounds wonderful.” When he looked at her, he could see a younger version of the Liz before she’d come to work for him, before wrinkles and age had dulled her. Even now she still had a vigor to her spirit and people were gravitated to her. She had a listening ear and a helping hand for everyone who came into her path. She’d be retiring soon and he didn’t have a clue what he was going to do when she left.

“Preston, sweetie.” Liz tilted her head. “Your day is coming. You’ll find a woman someday and before you know it, you’ll look over your shoulder finding yourself with a house full of noisy grandkids, too.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Liz,” He said, laughing. He grabbed the files he needed, and shoved them into his briefcase, closing the latches. “I have to find a woman and make her my wife first.”

He rounded his desk, briefcase in hand. “I hate to be rude, but I have—” he looked at his watch “—five minutes to get to Judge Morton’s chambers. I’ll see you soon.”

* * *

Sitting on a hard wooden bench, Avery was nervous, her stomach growling. She hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. The gold name plate on the door to her right read “Judge James Morton.” Thankfully it wasn’t a name she was familiar with, but she was probably just far enough away from her hometown that she wouldn’t know who these judges were. Hopefully, two hundred miles was far enough away to keep her Daddy out of the chaos.

The judge’s administrative assistant stood up from her desk and walked over to Avery. “Miss? Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? Water?”

“Uhm, water would be great. Thank you.” She watched the woman over to the corner of the room where a small college fridge was doubling as a plant stand. She returned with a bottle of water, handing it to Avery with a polite smile before returning to her computer.

Avery’s right leg bounced up and down with nerves. She pushed her dark brown hair behind her ears. She really needed a haircut. It was way past her shoulders and she usually kept it shorter than present, but money was tight and she just couldn’t get one right now. Cleaning houses didn’t pay much, but it did pay for rent and the car note for her poor little dilapidated vehicle. She knew when she grabbed those Rolexes she would be in trouble.