by Megan McCoy
“What’s this?” She asked, hoping her tone sounded light enough.
“I thought we both deserved a drink, today,” Rayne smiled at her. “Oh, you drink, don’t you? I never thought to ask.”
“I do, and that looks great,” Liz said. “It's been one of those days, again.”
“Planning a wedding is hard, isn’t it,” Rayne said, softly.
“It's not easy, that’s for sure. Have you done that?” Liz asked, then said immediately, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“That wasn’t prying,” Rayne said, smiling again. “It's okay to ask,” she picked up the folder though, and Liz noticed she didn’t answer, but took a huge big suck from her straw instead.
The waitress came by and asked if they wanted food. Rayne shook her head and so did Liz. She just wanted to get her many cakes hammered down and then get back to the next thing on her list.
Sipping her drink, she looked up, “Oh man, that’s good!” she said.
“Yeah, I don’t drink often other than a glass of wine after work to unwind some nights, so when I do drink, I like it to be a girly fruity fun thing,” Rayne shook her head, and Liz noticed her hair falling into place obediently. Hers never did that. It just got messier.
“I like a good beer now and then,” Liz confessed, “but I’ve never really cared for wine a lot. I try to make a drink now and then, but last one I made I messed up bad. The recipe said do something called muddling the basil for a mojito. I couldn’t figure out what muddle was, so I just threw it in the blender whole. And then poured it all down the sink after one sip.”
Rayne laughed. “I’ve poured lots of things down the sink. It's the main reason they’re there. To cover up our mistakes so we don’t have to confess them.” Wistfully, she added, “I wish there was a life sink where we could send things away and not have to deal with them again.”
Startled, Liz looked at her. Rayne always seemed so confident and as if she never rethought anything other than her temper, maybe, and she wasn’t real sure that she actually regretted that or if it was one of those, sorry I got caught kind of things.
“Yet, we have to live with our screw ups,” she said, lightly, then changed the subject. “Did you know I need three cakes? Why do I need three cakes?”
“Apparently, they have no idea how many people are coming to the wedding,” Rayne supplied. “Did you know that the Lyon’s have basically invited the entire town?”
Liz’s mouth went dry. “Seriously? I had no clue. I thought there were about a hundred and fifty people and I thought that was too many.”
“Sorry,” Rayne shrugged and handed Liz a picture. “What do you think of this for the bride’s cake? I was thinking chocolate mint for the groom’s cake and either a marble or lemon-citrus for the other cake. What do you think?”
“I think I need another drink,” Liz said faintly.
“We can do that,” Rayne motioned the waitress. “Did you not know this? Isn’t this your wedding?”
“I thought it was,” Liz admitted. “But apparently, it's a Lyon occasion and I’m the dress up doll in attendance.”
“At least you’re pretty enough to pull it off and don’t forget, you can say no to anything you don’t want,” Rayne said, but flipped to a couple more pictures. “Do you like this one better?”
“No, I like the first one,” she said, softly. The entire town? Even their waitress maybe? People she didn’t know and weren’t related to? This was overwhelming. “Say no?”
“Yes, it's a word. People don’t know what you want unless you tell them. Sometimes, I’ve learned in the kitchen, you have to say it loudly and repeatedly. Sometimes innocents get in the way, but yes, you have the right to say no about anything.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think they passed that law a while back. It's a real thing.”
Rayne thought about her meeting with Liz. The woman acted like she didn’t realize that she any power over this wedding. That she could tell Matt she didn’t want a huge affair, that she could say slow it down. That she could even ask what was going on. How could she not know that her wedding was the affair of the year? That was a little naïve and she had a hard time believing people were still naïve in this day and age. Maybe some were. She’d never had that chance or opportunity though. Growing up too early, and too fast had left her with a cynical outlook on life. She questioned everything and everyone and no one would take advantage of her.
As she put her car in gear, she wondered quickly if she should let Liz drive home. She’d had two big drinks, and not eaten anything. Well, she had several errands she was walking to, she’d said, so if she was a little tipsy, she should be fine by the time she drove home.
Happy that they’d decided on the cakes, she stopped by the party supply house to pick up a few more items. She’d been told that anything she needed would be reimbursed, and any staples could be grabbed from the kitchen. The entire ranch, other than the hands to take care of the animals had been blocked off and was closed for three days. She’d heard it was the first time they’d ever closed during the height of the summer season. They’d closed for one day for Jeb and Candy’s wedding, apparently. She didn’t know why Matt’s wedding was more important, or deserved bigger. Politics. Who knew? Maybe it was as simple as Candy put her foot down and Liz wouldn’t? The simplest answers were often the right answers.
If she married Cole, she’d make sure that—
Her breath caught and her palms started sweating. No. Just no. That was not something that she needed to even entertain the thought of in her brain. She wasn’t marrying him. He kissed her and made her melt, yes, but he also had put her over his knee twice and spanked her as if she wasn’t a grown ass adult. And she’d let him. Why? And why hadn’t he bared her bottom the second time like he said he would and why was she disappointed about that fact? It was ridiculous.
The whole entire thing was ridiculous. He wasn’t even her boss. Yet he treated her as if he were. She wondered if she went to Candy and told her what he was doing, what she would think?
Cole was basically Jeb’s son, so no matter what Candy thought, he would be the first one they defended. She had no options, other than to leave.
If she wanted to leave.
She didn’t want to leave.
Why? She had no clue why. Well, maybe a little. She wanted more from Cole. More what? That too, she didn’t know. But she knew she wanted something.
Sighing, she pulled into her small parking lot in front of her small room. She’d go in and make her small list and then head to her small bed alone, but tomorrow she’d get up and make huge big meals for a very large crowd of strangers. That was her life. She needed to accept that, and that Cole wanted only to make sure his family had a good chef for their business. What was she thinking? That she could be a fairy tale princess like Liz? She was an idiot and that was all there was to that.
Slamming the car door much harder than she should, Rayne grabbed all her files, her purse and a couple sacks she’d purchased earlier. Shuffling them around, she headed to her door. She was going to go in, put her stuff down and have another drink. It seemed like that kind of day. It was early yet, but oh well. She had nowhere to be and didn’t have to speak to anyone till late morning tomorrow. She’d lock her door, hibernate, drink and contemplate her life. Right now, she couldn’t think of a better thing or anything more productive to do with her evening. Sometimes a person just needed a little downtime. She worked hard. She was allowed.
Walking in her door, she kicked it shut behind her and reminded herself to lock it later.
Tossing all her packages down in one recliner, she went to the fridge and poured herself a rum and coke, from a bottle a grateful client had given her a while back and she’d never opened. It seemed like a good night to open it. She mixed herself a drink then got the bucket of ice from the freezer, and liter of cola and carried them to the small end table with her bottle of rum.
Sipping her drink, she stripped out of her clothes and put on a long t-sh
irt and scuffed into her fuzzy slippers. Happily, she settled into her other recliner and turned the TV on. Mindless nonsense was just what she needed. Maybe a lovely murder mystery? Or a silly comedy. Just not a sappy romance. That would be the last thing she needed. Flipping an afghan her grandmother had made her, over her lap, she sighed happily. What else could she need?
Finding that a channel had on reruns of Mark Harmon made her very happy. Yes, there were other people on that show too, but really, who cared? He was what she needed. Sometimes Mark smiled right at her. That was all the romance a hard-working girl like her needed. A nice smile from a hot guy. Nothing else would matter.
She did not need a spanking. She did not need sex. She did not need strong arms holding her or a shoulder to cry on when she was upset. She only needed a smile from a guy in a little box. That would keep her going for a while. Sipping her drink, she turned the TV up, reached over and set her alarm on her cell phone in case she fell asleep in the chair, and settled in for the night. She needed Mark’s smile. Oh yes, she did. Well, that and another sip of her drink.
Matt walked into the house. He was ready for some dinner and relaxation with his soon-to-be bride. He knew she had worked all day, too, then had wedding errands after. He still didn’t understand wedding errands. Wasn’t everything about done by now? The wedding was only a week away. He had his wedding clothes, she had hers. The flowers were ordered and the food was set. What else needed done? Why were there so many errands and projects and stress? This time next week, he assured himself, it would be over. They would be off on their honeymoon with the RV he had also already rented and learned how to drive.
The last thing he was prepared for was the spitfire he walked in on. Liz was stomping and had her arms crossed and he looked around for Ben.
“Where’s the kid?” he asked, knowing this was going to be an interesting night. So much for a cozy dinner and cuddling. He felt himself getting a second wind though. He’d enjoy this night just as much.
“I sent him to Candy’s for the night. He might as well get used to it, since he’s going to be there a while, after all,” she said, heavily sarcastically.
Matt, honestly confused, asked, “What the hell is going on? If you want to say something, just say it.” He put down the food he’d had Mariah make for him to bring home, took off his boots and untucked his shirt. Apparently, he needed to make himself comfortable, and he would have to reheat dinner later. Oh well.
“Do you know what I found out today?” Liz, dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of shorts and nothing else, glared at him. Her legs were as gorgeous as her ass. Even mad, she was still the most adorable thing he’d ever laid eyes on.
“I really don’t, honey. Want to come have a seat and tell me?” He asked, sitting on the couch and patting the seat invitingly.
“I do not. I’m going to tell you but I don’t want to sit and I’m not ready to be pacified.” She turned and stalked into the other room and brought him back a beer.
Women. Who knew what they thought. Gladly, he took it and twisted off the cap, and took a swig. The last thing he thought of when he was mad was doing something nice for someone else. He still had no clue what she was upset about though.
“So, did something happen today at work? While you were running errands? With Ben?” Those were the only things he could think of that might upset her this much.
“Cake,” she said, succinctly.
“Cake?” he took another drink. Oh. Hell. The new chef. “Did Rayne upset you again? Because so help me, if she did I’m going to go up there and fire her myself.” He started to stand up.
Liz stalked over and shoved him back down. “She was very pleasant,” she stated flatly.
Matt started to feel uncomfortable. Had he done something? “Dammit, Liz tell me what is going on right this very second. I’m done with this,” he said, very slowly but very firmly.
She didn’t waver or back down. “I heard that we’ve invited the entire town to our wedding,” she said and then turned around and walked into the kitchen, then turned around and walked right back. “I didn’t know the world was going to be at our wedding. I thought it was the family and people who worked here. Now I find out I need three cakes. Three cakes, Matt. Why? And why didn’t anyone tell me there were going to hundreds of strangers at our wedding? Did you think I didn’t need to know?”
“Why does it matter who all comes? More presents for us,” he tried to joke.
“Because! That’s why!” she shrieked.
Matt took a long swig of his bottle. Did she have a point? Did it matter? Nope. Not one iota. This could go two ways. They could have a fight, and both of them say things that they would regret, or he could blister her bottom and then they could discuss things later when she calmed down. Didn’t really seem like much of a choice to him. She needed to destress and he knew exactly how that could happen.
Sighing inwardly, he took another long pull on the beer she’d kindly brought him. Too bad she hadn’t brought him that wooden spoon, too. She was all but begging for a good paddling. He took one more drink and regretted it would be warm when he got back to it and then got up silently. Going to the kitchen, he passed her and could feel her intense emotions radiating. Well, he’d give her something to focus on. He could care less about the size of their wedding.
He cared a lot about her state of mind, which was about to change.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked, too shrilly for his liking. Yeah, he’d screwed up. She was really stressed out. What kind of man was he, to not handle this before it got this far? He would be sure to not do this again. To pay more attention to her moods. It was a good thing to learn before they got married.
Wooden spoon, hell, that wooden cutting board was just what he needed. Nice handle, thick enough to make a point. He grabbed it and turned around. Liz was right behind him, and he took hold of her upper arm and marched her back to the living room. Oddly enough, she didn’t protest or try to fight him.
Reaching over, he pulled down shorts, and still she stood still. Had this been what she was wanting all along? He didn’t think too much about it, but sat down on the couch, pulling her along with him. Lifting her shirt, he kept waiting for her to fight him but she just adjusted herself and waited.
“I will not have you talking like that but you will talk to me when you are upset,” with that he brought the cutting board down on her bare butt with a solid thwap.
Oddly enough, while she usually tried to stay stoic for a smack or ten, this time she yelled. “No! Stop it!” Which he took to mean, yeah, you’re doing the right thing.
He didn’t bother with a warm up, what she seemed to need was a good butt burning and a lot of squalling. He learned a while back that she needed to cry out her stress. He was the man to help her with that. She’d carried her burden alone for too long. He wouldn’t let her do it anymore.
Her shorts and little mint green panties were at her thighs and his goal was not to stop spanking until she kicked them off. He had a strong arm and endurance. He could hold out much further than she could and apparently, this was something Liz desperately needed.
Focusing, he started smacking, low and hard. Damn, her butt was cute. Like every other bit of her.
As she let out a loud screech of protest, he almost stopped. He couldn’t stop. She needed this and he needed to do it, for her and for him. He would not come home and be screamed at. He would come home to a happy calm household and if a red butt was the price she had to pay for him—them—to get that, he could oblige.
Her bottom started squirming and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the hand flew back and the kicking started. Why did they kick, he wondered. He’d read a while back that it was an attempt to block the bottom with the feet. Did they think that would work? He kind of liked the kicking. It opened up the bottom, made everything move around. What wasn’t to like? Why did guys on the videos always want them to hold still? Stupid males. Nothing hotter than a wiggling burning b
utt.
The yelling, well, that didn’t bother him a lot. Meant he was getting his point across and he knew it was something she needed.
The hand flew back and he grabbed it, and held it to the small of her back. Good. She was still protesting though. Not submitting, not realizing she needed to say sorry, yet. How did he know when she was done? He didn’t, but for some reason, he never really got it wrong. He’d see how long it took the panties to fly off. How far could they go? He didn’t know. Since she’d started to twist though, he knew the kicking wasn’t far behind. Then the begging, then the sobbing.
Once the sobbing started, he’d listen for the break. If you spanked properly, there was always a break, when they didn’t think they could take anymore. Sometimes panic came first, sometimes begging, pleading and promising. Depended. But no matter, then you had to spank past that, but not long. The goal was punishment or stress relief, not abuse.
It wasn’t going to take long tonight, he knew. Liz was on the edge about the wedding. Stressed out and not sharing what her issues were. Maybe he was being insensitive. He smiled, grimly, maybe he was a jerk, but his firm smacks were making their point. He wasn’t going to do a half-assed job. He owed that much to her.
Did he want her to dance? Yeah, actually he did, and he deserved a little stress relief too. Usually, he only spanked to the point where she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms, but he’d had a rough day too. She needed to put on a little show for him. Maybe he’d send her to the corner, too. His arm came down hard and she howled and stiffened. Her bottom was turning a lovely shade of red and started to seem swollen.
He needed more today.
They were getting married in a week, and he wanted to start this marriage off properly. He wasn’t going to have tantrum throwing. The bridezilla issue would be gone in a week but right now, he needed to make sure she understood that he knew what she needed.