Finding Peace

  Finding Peace

  Blossom Ridge, Book Two

  Becca Jameson

  Copyright © 2022 by Becca Jameson

  Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. And resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Newsletter

  About the Book

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Also by Becca Jameson

  About the Author

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  About the Book

  Brea

  I’m finally free from the constraints of my large family.

  I have a great job at the most amazing resort.

  I’m finding myself and I’m learning so much from the other employees.

  I’ve never known about this lifestyle before, but I think I’m Little.

  And the man who has come to work on the basement might be my Daddy.

  But his lifestyle is so different from mine. I could never fit into his world.

  * * *

  Niko

  I’ve retired from pro football and run a philanthropy in Seattle.

  My sneaky friend has asked me to do some construction at Blossom Ridge.

  He knows I have a soft spot for broken souls.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve had a Little of my own.

  My heart seizes when I meet her. I already know she’s mine.

  I just have to convince her she’s become my world.

  Prologue

  Brea

  * * *

  I glance nervously at the clock on the wall for the tenth time in as many minutes. If I don’t leave work at precisely four and make the four-ten light rail, I’ll miss my connecting bus and arrive home late. My father will lose his mind.

  I still have plenty of time. No reason to panic. It’s only three-fifteen.

  I fidget in my seat. I still can’t believe I’m sitting here interviewing for a job. I mean, I didn’t even apply for the job. I have a job. I’m at it now. I work at Stella’s. It’s a quaint café. I’ve only been here a month.

  We’re in the back room. Me. Stella. And her friend Leah. Leah and her husband manage a resort outside of Seattle called Blossom Ridge. They approached me for the first time three days ago, offering me a job there as head of housekeeping. I’m uncertain and nervous about the prospect.

  “We don’t mean to pressure you,” Stella says in the gentlest voice. “I know it’s a huge step, but it seems like you could really use a life change. If I’m wrong, please tell me to back off.” Her brow is furrowed with concern.

  I lick my lips. “Is it that I’m not doing a good job here at the café?” I murmur. This has been my biggest concern from the moment Stella came to me with this job proposition. That was the day I first met Leah.

  Stella shakes her head. “Quite the opposite. You’re an amazing employee. I will hate to lose you, but I want to do what’s best for you. You’re twenty-four years old and living at home with your parents. The burden they put on you seems overwhelming.”

  She’s not wrong. Living in my childhood home is stifling. It’s weighing on me so heavily I feel like I’m going to break into tiny pieces any day now. It’s gotten worse since I started working at the café because those hours each week allow me to breathe like I’ve never breathed before. When I get home, my depressing life seems doubly depressing.

  This job at Stella’s is my first job ever. I had to beg my father to let me get a job, and the only reason he consented in the end was because my family needs the money. I turn over every paycheck to my father. It’s worth it just to get out of the house.

  Leah reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. She has her hair in long thick braids, and one of them falls over her shoulder. When I first met her three days ago, she had her hair in the same style. She was wearing hot pink leggings, white tennis shoes, and a long white top that day. I think she’s about thirty, but her style makes her seem younger.

  Today is no different. She has on the same white tennis shoes, but she’s wearing black leggings and a purple tunic. It’s hard to believe she and her husband are the managers of a resort.

  I’ve met her husband, Craig, too. He was with her the other day and today he’s hanging out in the café while we talk in the back room. I’m kind of glad. He’s big and intimidating. He’s given me no reason to be nervous, but I have so little experience with men in general that they make me nervous just by existing.

  Leah’s expression is one of concern, her eyes narrowed, her smile faint. “We’re offering you a new life, Brea. I think you’d love living at Blossom Ridge.”

  “Why?” I fight back the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes as Stella hands me a tissue. I clear my throat and try again. “Why would you help me?”

  Leah gives her hand another squeeze and smiles. “You’re a kind, sweet, precious, gentle soul. You deserve a break.”

  And the tears fall. Ugh. I swipe at them with the tissue. My lip is trembling as I meet Leah’s gaze. I’ve thought hard about this. It would be the biggest decision of my life. “I’m pretty sure my father would disown me,” I whisper.

  Leah nods slowly. “I obviously don’t know your whole story, but it sounds like your father is overbearing to the point of abusive, Brea. He’s controlling your life.”

  “Yes.” He is. I know it. Before this week I’ve never once considered there might be a way out for me. I’ve tossed and turned every night trying to decide if I should take this offer.

  I’m not kidding. I might have to cut off all ties with my family. At least for a while. Maybe some of my siblings will later escape our weird existence and eventually and find me. Maybe not.

  Part of me hates leaving my brothers and sisters to fend for themselves, but I also have to think about myself and my well-being.

  “Do you have any more questions about Blossom Ridge?” Leah asks. “It’s hard to explain exactly what kind of resort it is, but I don’t want you to be blindsided.”

  She told me it’s a place where adults can allow themselves to be comfortable in their skin and relax in an environment where they get to pretend they’re younger. I was never younger. It sounds like heaven. “I think I understand,” I tell her.

  Stella smiles at me. “You would know one person. Amy is the chef there now. She’ll do everything she can to help you get settled.”

  I only knew Amy—short for Amelia—for a few weeks before she left Stella’s to take the job at Blossom Ridge. I also know she and Stella talked about me and think it would be a good fit for me.

  I’m twenty-four years old and I have almost no education and no prospects in this life. My father is a control freak who has ensured that none of his
children have enough life experiences to make it in the real world. This is my chance. I may never get an opportunity like this again.

  I take a deep breath and meet Leah’s gaze. “I’ll do it.”

  Chapter 1

  A month later…

  * * *

  Niko

  * * *

  I’ve been at Blossom Ridge less than an hour when my gaze lands on the petite auburn Little standing near the hot tub. It takes me a moment to realize she’s not joining the three Littles in the hot tub. She’s fully dressed and adding a stack of towels to the shelves near the pool.

  She glances toward the giggling Little girls with a mixed expression. She’s almost smiling, but not quite. She seems slightly startled. Envious maybe? She stares at them for several seconds before glancing in my direction.

  I’m on the other side of the pool, getting a tour of the Ridge from Foster. My breath hitches when she sees me, and my heart leaps in my chest when her cheeks turn pink and she lowers her gaze. In a flash, she scurries into the main house without looking in our direction again.

  I watch her as she disappears before turning back toward Foster. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  He’s grinning and he doesn’t answer my question. “Cute, isn’t she?”

  “Who?”

  Foster chuckles. “I’ve known you for twenty-seven years. Don’t play dumb with me. Her name’s Brea.”

  I draw in a breath and rub my jaw. My chin is scruffy. I haven’t shaved in three days. Every time I consider letting my beard grow out it starts itching about day three and I end up shaving it off. Today is that day.

  “Does she work here?” I ask. No sense pretending I didn’t notice her. I could probably lie to Foster for a few hours, but I can’t lie to myself. It’s been a long time since a Little has caught my attention. Hell, I’m probably going to have to rein in my reaction. She undoubtedly has a Daddy already. After all, this is a resort for guests who practice age play.

  “Yep. She’s been here three weeks. And no, she doesn’t have a caregiver. She didn’t even know what age play was before she joined our team.”

  I flinch. “Seriously? She’s not Little?”

  “I didn’t say that. I’ve thought she was Little from the moment she arrived. Hell, Leah and Craig thought so when they went to Seattle to interview her. They wouldn’t have hired her if they hadn’t thought she would fit in. I’m just saying she’s learning.”

  “Sounds like she got tossed into the pool and she’s having to sink or swim.” And fuck me, but the vibes she put off were very Little. The way she smiled longingly at the girls in the hot tub. The way she ducked her head when she saw me. The way she skipped into the house with a youthful bounce to her step.

  “Yeah. About that…” Foster begins, glancing at me. “I’m pretty sure she can’t swim. Literally. I’ve watched her with Amelia in the pool a few times. She stays close to the zero-entry edge. I doubt she’s ever been in a pool before.”

  “Jesus. What’s her story?” I ask as we head for the house. So far Foster has given me a tour of the grounds and the cabins where the employees live. I’ve been assigned one for the next few weeks while I help Foster with a construction job.

  “Not entirely sure. I didn’t want to pry, so I didn’t ask Leah and Craig many questions. Amelia knows her a bit too. They were both working at a café in Seattle. Amelia was the chef there until Leah and Craig stole her to become the main chef here. Brea was waiting tables.”

  I glance at Foster. There is a shit ton he hasn’t said.

  Foster shrugs. “I know she’s had a rough life. She’s like a bird with a broken wing.”

  I inhale deeply. “Did you ask me to come here to help build an addition in the basement, or did you invite me because you know I have a soft place in my heart for damaged souls?” I lift my brows. Even though it’s been a long time since I last saw Foster, he knows me well.

  “Both?” At least he doesn’t lie about it.

  We stop by the entrance to the kitchen at the back of the mansion and face each other. I rub my hands together. I’ve been anxious to take on the project he has in mind since he first told me about it. This new side project is far more delicate. “It’s been a while since I last had a Little,” I point out.

  “They haven’t changed.” He chuckles. “I was hibernating for five years before Amelia showed up and knocked me on my ass. It took about ten seconds for me to remember how to care for a Little girl. It’s like riding a bike. It comes naturally to me. I know it does for you too.”

  I rub my scruffy chin again. There’s no denying Brea grabbed my heartstrings and I haven’t even heard her voice. But… “Taking on a broken Little is a huge responsibility.”

  “Yep.”

  I smirk at him. “By the way, why am I not shocked that you call your Little Amelia while everyone else calls her Amy?”

  He grins. “It’s her name.”

  “Uh-huh,” I tease. “I bet she flinches and jumps to attention every time you use it.”

  “Yep.”

  I roll my eyes. “Show me this unfinished basement. I can’t focus on your secondary project right now.” I shake my head. Damn friend setting me up. Already I’m twisted and raw from spotting Brea from afar.

  I hope I’m not in over my head.

  Chapter 2

  Brea

  * * *

  “Do you want me to start carrying things to the table?” I ask Amy as she puts the finishing touches on tonight’s beautiful dessert. It’s a carrot cake. I’ve never had a carrot cake, but it has made the entire house smell divine all afternoon.

  “That would be great. Thanks.” Amy purses her lips as she squeezes adorable orange carrots onto the top of the cake out of frosting. My mouth is watering.

  Tonight is beef stew night and that scent has also been wafting into the air all day. She started it this morning. Homemade bread and honey butter too.

  When I moved to Blossom Ridge three weeks ago, I took the biggest gamble of my life. I arrived with almost nothing but the clothes on my back. The only reason I have a state ID and a social security card is because Craig helped me apply for them when I got here.

  Craig and Leah and everyone else at Blossom Ridge have saved my life. Literally. Or at least rescued me from hell. I don’t know what would have happened to me if they hadn’t offered me this lifesaver.

  I still haven’t told them much about my past, mostly because I’m embarrassed, but they know enough. They’ve given me a place to live, food to eat, and clothes to wear.

  It’s weird living in the small cabin behind the mansion. Until I arrived here, I’d never spent a single night of my life alone. I’ve never even had my own bed.

  I haven’t slept well yet. It’s too quiet, and I get scared when I wake up in the night alone. But every night it gets better. I’m finding myself. And I’m learning a lot.

  I’m so ignorant about the world that I don’t have a clue what normal is, but I don’t think Blossom Ridge is the definition. This place is more of a haven. A place where grown adults come to relax and regress. They’re called Littles. They have a caregiver who is a Mommy or a Daddy, someone who takes care of them entirely.

  It’s mesmerizing to watch, and I have to admit I’ve been envious of everyone I’ve seen. I’ve learned there are a ton of reasons why an adult might like to spend time pretending to be younger. Some of them simply enjoy the simplicity. Some loved their childhood so much they wish they’d never had to grow up. Some thrive on being naughty and getting disciplined.

  But some missed out on all or part of their childhood for an assortment of reasons. Like me. Maybe this is why I find it attractive. Childhood? Ha. I never had one.

  I carry the plates to the table and set them on each placemat. We have three couples staying at the Ridge this week, so I set the table for twelve. That’s the maximum number of people who can sit at the kitchen table, and it’s a bit tight. It was built for ten. When we have more than six guests, we set up an
other table in the giant room for additional seating.

  There’s plenty of space. The kitchen is huge. There’s also a dining room off the kitchen, but we rarely use it. It has an even longer table that will seat far more people, but the owner of the mansion wants the guests to feel like they’re at home. He likes the kitchen to have a relaxed vibe where any guest can come and go and grab a cookie or a piece of fruit.

  I totally agree. The dining room would be stuffy and not as inviting for Littles and their caregivers. It’s saved for special occasions. I can’t wait to be here for Christmas or Thanksgiving or a wedding. It will be magical. But for everyday use, Master Roman is right. The kitchen is perfect.

  I’ve met Master Roman, the owner, and his wife, Lucy, two times. She’s also Little. They came for a few hours one day and then last weekend for two nights. They’re so kind and friendly, just like every other person living here and visiting.

  After I arrange the plates, I head for the silverware and napkins. I’ve only recently started helping Amy in the kitchen. I was technically hired as head of housekeeping, which Lord knows I’m beyond qualified to do. But most days it doesn’t take very many hours to keep things in order, so I’ve started helping Amy.

  I’m a pro when it comes to housekeeping. My skills in the kitchen are lacking. Well, that’s not entirely true. I can and have cooked for and fed far more people than we’ve ever had staying at Blossom Ridge so far, but I did so on a shoestring budget. Nothing like the gourmet meals Amy creates.