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The diner is busy, the low hum of conversations mixing with the clatter of plates and the smell of coffee and frying bacon. Kate wraps her hands around her mug, the warmth seeping into her fingers as the server drops menus on the table.
She doesn’t even glance at hers, sliding it across the table without looking at it, hoping Tyler will let it go “I’m good,” she says, lifting the coffee to her lips.
Javi is sitting across from her, chatting with an investor about forecasts. He looks up briefly at her comment, eyebrow raised, but doesn’t say anything, diving back into the conversation.
Tyler, sitting beside her, doesn’t miss a beat. She feels his gaze almost immediately, heavy and unwavering.
“You’re sure you’re not hungry?” he asks, his voice even, casual enough that it could almost pass as idle curiosity if you didn’t know better. The problem is, she does; she knows the agreement they made, and how surprisingly seriously he takes it.
Kate doesn’t look at him. “Positive,” she says lightly, her fingers tightening slightly around the mug.
“You haven’t eaten since breakfast,” he presses, the edge in his tone barely perceptible, but she hears it anyway.
Her shoulders stiffen, but she forces herself to stay relaxed, keeping her eyes on the coffee. “I said I’m fine,” she replies, setting the mug down a little harder than necessary.
The table goes quiet for a beat, and Javi’s voice falters before he picks up again. Kate keeps her expression neutral, but her heart is pounding, and a spark of defiance flares in her chest.
Tyler doesn’t say anything else at first, but she can feel him watching her, the weight of his gaze impossible to ignore. It makes her skin prickle, and a small part of her wonders what he’s going to do about it.
And then he leans in, his voice low enough that only she can hear. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to order a sandwich. Then, when we get back to the farm, I’m putting you over my knee, and we’re going to have a conversation about why skipping meals isn’t an option.”
Her breath catches, and heat floods her face. She looks around, sure someone must have overheard, her heart thudding as her mind races. If anyone has, there’s no sign of it.
He leans back, his voice as calm as ever. “Do you understand me?”
Kate swallows hard, her cheeks burning. She keeps her eyes on the coffee, her pulse roaring in her ears. For a moment, she considers saying no, just to see what he’d do. But something in his tone—steady, sure, and utterly unflinching—makes her hesitate.
“Yes,” she mutters, barely above a whisper.
“Good,” he says simply, turning his attention back to Javi and the investor as though nothing had happened.
Kate doesn’t move, her face still hot, her hands clutching the mug like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. The spark of defiance is still there, but now it’s tangled with something else, something she can’t quite name.
The rest of the meal drags, Kate’s mind far from the table. She eats the sandwich set in front of her almost mechanically, flushing when she feels Tyler’s gaze lingering on her.
Javi and the investor continue their conversation, oblivious to the tension simmering between her and Tyler. She nods at the appropriate moments and even offers a polite smile when Javi glances her way, but the barn—and what’s waiting for her there—is all she can think about.
When the check is paid, and they step out into the cool afternoon air, Kate feels Tyler’s hand settle lightly at the small of her back, guiding her toward the truck. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels loaded, like a promise of what’s to come.
The drive back to the farm is quiet, the hum of the tires on the road the only sound. Kate stares out the window, her fingers twitching in her lap. She tells herself she’s fine, that she doesn’t care, but her chest tightens the closer they get.
By the time they pull into the long gravel driveway, her palms are damp, and her heart is pounding again. Tyler parks the truck, cuts the engine, and gets out without a word. Kate hesitates for a moment, staring at the barn ahead, before finally stepping out and following him inside.
The barn is dim, the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the cracks in the wooden walls. Tyler moves with purpose, dragging one of the old folding chairs into the middle of the room. He sets it down and sits, leaning back slightly as he fixes her with a calm, steady gaze.
Kate stops a few paces away, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Her cheeks burn, but she lifts her chin slightly, refusing to let him see how nervous she feels.
“What’re you doing, Tyler?” she asks, keeping her voice steady, pretending this isn’t a question she already knows the answer to. “Mom will be home soon. Let’s get out of here—”
“Kate,” he says steadily, cutting her off.
She swallows hard. “Tyler.”
“Do you really want me to spell it out?” he asks, his tone low and deliberate, each word landing like a challenge.
Her feet shuffle against the barn floor as she debates whether to push him further. She knows she probably doesn’t want him to elaborate, but the words won’t come, her pride refusing to let her give in so easily.
“Alright then,” Tyler says, leaning back in the chair, his posture easy but his expression firm. He tilts his chin up, his steely eyes locking with hers. “I’m waiting for you to place that behind of yours over my knee so I can use my palm on your bare ass to make it very clear how I feel about you tryin’ to skip meals again.”
Kate’s cheeks burn hotter, and she shifts her weight from foot to foot, trying to think of something clever to say, some way to get out of this. But Tyler’s steady gaze pins her in place, and she knows— damn him, she knows —there’s no getting out of it.
“I want to take a shower,” she mutters, avoiding his eyes as though that will make a difference.
“That can wait,” Tyler says, his tone unyielding. “This comes first.”
Her hands curl tighter into fists, the heat spreading down her neck as she glares at the floor. “You don’t have to make such a big deal out of it,” she grumbles.
“It is a big deal,” he insists, “it’s one of the things we agreed on, Kate, you eat three square meals a day, or we end up here.”
“I ate the sandwich,” she protests.
“Only after you refused twice, and I told you what was already gonna happen to you,” he says calmly.
“Still-” she starts.
“Tell me this, if it was one of my things, would you let this go?”
Kate’s jaw tightens, her glare shifting from the floor to him. “That’s not the same, and you know it,” she mutters, but the words sound weak even to her own ears.
Tyler doesn’t waver. “No, ma’am,” he says, his voice steady but firm. “If it were me, you wouldn’t let it slide. You’d be dragging me in here, lecturing me about following through and taking care of myself.”
Her cheeks flush hotter, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” he says, tilting his head slightly, “but I’m not wrong.”
Kate exhales sharply, her shoulders slumping as the fight drains out of her. She knows he’s right, damn him, and the worst part is, he knows she knows it too.
“You don’t have to enjoy it,” she mutters, glancing toward the barn door as if considering making a run for it.
“I don’t,” Tyler replies simply, his expression softening just enough to take the edge off his words. “But I do care enough to make sure you follow through, even when you don’t want to.”
Kate doesn’t have a response for that. She shifts on her feet, the tension in her chest coiling tighter as she debates whether to keep arguing or just get it over with.
“Kate,” Tyler says, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Come here.”
“Last chance to change your mind,” she says, raising her chin, the defiance in her voice undercut by the quiver she can’t quite hide.
Tyler doesn’t rise to the bait. “Not happening,” he says evenly. “You know why we’re here, Kate. Let’s get it over with.”
Her jaw tightens, her body rigid as she hesitates, the last shred of resistance clinging stubbornly to her pride. Tyler doesn’t move, doesn’t waver, his gaze fixed on her like he has all the time in the world. Eventually, with a low, frustrated grumble, she steps forward, stopping just short of his knees, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
“Do you--” she trails off, gesturing at her jeans wordlessly, hoping he won’t make her say it.
“What do you think, Sapulpa?”
Her head snaps up at the nickname, irritation flaring bright and hot. “You tell me!” she shoots back, the words tumbling out before she can stop them. “What am I, in charge?”
The second they’re out, she regrets them, her face burning as she clamps her mouth shut. Tyler doesn’t so much as blink, and that only makes her want to squirm more.
“No,” he says finally, his tone even but pointed. “You’re definitely not in charge right now, no matter what you seem to think.”
Her mouth opens, a retort forming on her lips, but before she can speak, he moves. His hands reach out, and her breath catches as he unbuttons her jeans, the sound of the zipper deafening in the barn’s quiet.
“Tyler!” she hisses, her hands flying to his, but he doesn’t stop, his grip steady and deliberate.
“None of this is up for debate right now,” he says, meeting her gaze with that infuriating calm. “You broke our agreement, and now we’re following through.”
Her hands falter, her cheeks blazing as the denim slides down to her knees. Tyler leans back slightly, his gaze steady as ever, and gestures to her without a word.
“Fine,” she says, knowing there’s nothing left for her to say, “let’s get it over with.”
“Good choice,” he says, guiding her down over his knee, helping her settle into place. Soon she’s staring down at the floor, starting to bitterly regret her moment of defiance.
“Okay,” he says, placing a hand on her back, “Why’re we here, Kate?”
She grits her teeth, the familiar spark of defiance flaring in her chest. For a fleeting moment, she considers some biting reply, but her position —and her jeans already around her knees—keeps her in check. “Refused to eat,” she says curtly, barely managing to hold back the retort that hovers on the tip of her tongue.
“That’s right,” Tyler says, his voice as calm and matter-of-fact as if he were stating the weather. And then, without another word, his hand comes down hard on the center of her backside.
The sting is sharp and immediate, and she hisses through her teeth, her body tensing instinctively. Before she can catch her breath, he speaks again.
“We agreed you’d eat, Kate. Hell, you suggested it. You broke that agreement, and now here we are.”
Another sharp swat lands, and she flinches, biting down hard on her lip. The rhythm is deliberate, not rushed, and each one seems to sting more fiercely than the last. Tyler doesn’t waver, his hand landing with precision, painting every inch of her backside with the same all-consuming sting.
She clenches her fists against the urge to squirm, her pride refusing to let her give him the satisfaction. But it’s impossible to ignore the growing heat, the way the swats are starting to cover already sore skin.
Tyler doesn’t lecture, doesn’t scold, or give her the distraction of responding. She’s left alone with nothing but the pain and her thoughts, with the mounting awareness of exactly why she’s here.
The minutes stretch, her breathing quick and uneven as she tries to hold onto the last shreds of her resistance. But the burn is relentless, and she feels the fight slipping away with every measured swat. She swallows hard, her vision blurring slightly as she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the ache spreading across her skin.
Finally, just as she’s about to snap, he pauses. The sudden stillness is almost worse than the punishment itself, her heart pounding in her ears as she braces for what comes next. His hand rests lightly on her back, grounding her, but the weight of his presence feels even heavier.
“You know why this matters, don’t you?” he asks quietly.
She doesn’t respond right away, her throat tight as she struggles to find her voice. “Because I skipped a meal,” she mutters finally.
His hand comes down again, sharper this time, and she yelps before she can stop herself. “Try again,” he says evenly, giving her no room to deflect.
Her jaw tightens, her pride sparking again, but the sting still radiating across her backside keeps her grounded. “Because it’s not just skipping a meal,” she says reluctantly.
“That’s right,” he says, his hand resting on her back again. “It’s about taking care of yourself, Kate. About keeping your promises. This isn’t exactly a hardship for me,” he adds, the faintest trace of a smirk in his voice, “but I don’t like seeing you run yourself into the ground.”
“Yeah, I know,” she says softly.
Good,” he says, hand patting sore skin. “Just a bit more, then.”
She groans, a low sound of protest, but she doesn’t put up a fight. She braces herself, gripping the edges of the chair as he shifts his focus lower. In a moment, his hand lands a heavy, deliberate round of swats to her upper thighs, the sting sharper and deeper than before.
The first strike makes her gasp, her breath catching in her throat. The next few follow quickly, leaving no time for her to adjust, each one building on the burn that’s already there. She can’t stop the small yelps that escape her lips, the sting radiating in a way that makes her squirm against his hold.
“Tyler,” she manages to hiss through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pause, his rhythm steady and purposeful. He doesn’t hit harder—he doesn’t need to. The placement alone is enough to leave her breathless, the ache settling deep enough that she knows she’ll feel it long after this is over.
“This,” he says, punctuating his words with another sharp swat, “is for making me remind you not to push yourself past your limits.”
Another swat, sharp and precise. “And this is so you don’t forget what happens when you try to brush it off.”
She hisses again, her hands gripping tighter as the final swats land, slower now but just as firm. Her eyes sting with unshed tears, her pride worn down to a raw edge. By the time he stops, her thighs are burning, and the ache spreads across her skin like a vivid reminder of everything he’s said.
Tyler rests his hand on her back again, his touch steady and grounding. “Alright,” he says quietly. “We’re done.”
She stays still for a moment, her breathing uneven as she tries to pull herself together. Slowly, he helps her upright, his hands firm but careful as he steadies her. She doesn’t meet his eyes at first, her cheeks burning as she fumbles to pull her jeans back up over her sore skin.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now, the concern unmistakable.
She nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” she says, her voice quiet but steady. “I’m okay. You’re still an asshole, you know.”
Tyler grins. “Yeah, I know, city girl. Next time remember this before we get here, okay?”
Kate exhales sharply, a weak laugh escaping her lips. “Yeah, yeah,” she mutters “no more skipped meals,” she says, her voice coming out quieter now, almost sheepish.
“Good,” he replies simply, his tone easy. After a pause, he glances down at her, his expression softening even more. “You know I wouldn’t push if it didn’t matter, right? To both of us?”
Kate doesn’t answer right away, her hands buried in her jacket pockets, her steps slowing as they approach the farmhouse. For a moment, she just listens to the crunch of gravel underfoot, the way the wind stirs the trees in the distance. Finally, she looks up at him, meeting his gaze. “I know,” she says softly. “You just—sometimes you make me want to throttle you.”
Tyler chuckles, his grin tugging wider. “I’ll take that over you skipping another meal.”
She groans, shaking her head, but there’s a small smile pulling at her lips now. As they reach the porch, he opens the door, stepping aside to let her in first. She hesitates, glancing back at him for just a second.
“Thanks,” she mutters, barely audible, before ducking inside.
Tyler follows her, his hand brushing lightly against her back as he steps past. “Any time,” he says over his shoulder, his tone teasing.”
She huffs a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as she lets the warmth of the house wrap around her. Damn him, she thinks again, for always knowing exactly how to get through to her, even when she wishes he wouldn’t.