Confessions of the World's Oldest Shotgun Bride

by Gail Hart

  “You miss her.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So stop moping around and call her.”

  “Three hour time difference. She’s probably still taking meetings. She’ll call when she’s done.”

  That was how it should be, anyway. He shouldn’t have to call her. He was the wronged party.

  But she was the Ice Queen. She wouldn’t give in. Her fear and her pride wouldn’t let her. No matter how much she was hurting inside, she’d hide her heart behind that wall of ice. If he didn’t want to lose her and go back to spending his nights in places like this, he had to make the first move. Because he could.

  He dug his cell phone out of the pocket of his bomber jacket.

  Crap. Dead battery.

  Maybe Katie had tried to call. A seed of hope sprouted in his heart.

  Whether or not she’d tried to reach him, he didn’t need to be here drinking cheap beer. He grabbed his bomber jacket from the back of the bar stool and shrugged into it. “Not into it tonight, man,” he told Murph. “I’m going outta here.”

  * * *

  The next afternoon, true to her word, as soon as her presentation was over Kathryn checked out of her hotel and took a cab to the general aviation section of the San Diego airport. After checking in with the charter company, she read the newspaper in the waiting area while the pilot made sure the single engine jet was fueled and all the necessary maintenance taken care of, as well as filing the flight plan. With the time change and a quick stop to refuel, it would be morning before they made it to Dulles, but she’d be home in time to surprise Steve for breakfast. He still wasn’t answering his cell phone. Just as well. The things she needed to say to him were better said in person.

  Though her body was running a serious sleep deficit, she dozed only fitfully during the flight. When sleep wouldn’t come, she leaned back as far as she could in her seat and closed her eyes, listening to the slow, steady drone of the jet engine.

  Then well into the second segment of the trip, the engine stopped droning and coughed.

  Kathryn bolted upright and sat still enough to hear her heart thump, listening. After a few seconds, the engine coughed again. Then again. The reassuring drone had been replaced by a disturbing sputter.

  Telling herself to stay calm, she made her way to the cockpit and dropped into the co-pilot’s seat.

  The pilot’s hair was cut short, hinting at a military background. That at least was reassuring. But the expression on his face, calm yet dead in earnest, confirmed that she wasn’t imagining things.

  “Our engine is failing,” Kathryn said rather than asked. She wanted him to know he didn’t need to lie to her. She knew the truth, and she could handle it. She wouldn’t panic.

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “What’s your plan?”

  “I’m looking for a flat field where I can make an emergency landing. I’ve notified air traffic control that we have an in-flight emergency, and they’ll send the Civil Air Patrol to look for us. You go back and buckle yourself in. I’ll let you know when you need to brace for impact. This may not be my softest landing ever.”

  This couldn’t be happening. Sometimes the universe had a twisted sense of humor. The man she loved was trained to fly in combat, but she was the one about to go down in a plane crash.

  She remembered Steve’s words on their wedding night. Trust your training, trust your wingman and trust your equipment. The equipment had let her down. Now her fate was in the hands of her wingman, the young pilot sitting next to her, all steely eyed concentration, and on his training.

  “One more question. Where did you learn to fly?”

  “In the Air Force, ma’am.”

  In that case, she trusted him.

  Returning to her seat, she fastened her seatbelt and grabbed the armrests, waiting. The soft pink light of a sunrise filtered through the window and the air was eerily quiet, the plane gliding.

  Then a shout from the pilot broke the calm. “Now!” Seconds later, the small plane shuddered and slammed into the ground. Kathryn’s head jerked forward and hit the padded bulkhead as the plane bounced up, slammed back down, and slid over the pitted surface of a cornfield. The screeching noise of rending metal filled her ears. After what seemed like an eternity, but must have been only seconds, the plane came to a stop.

  Moments later, the pilot was at her side. “Are you okay?”

  “Hit my head,” she mumbled, slightly dazed, as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Next time she’d have to remember to pull that sucker tighter.

  “Sit still. Help is on the way.”

  Within a few minutes, she heard the faint sounds of emergency sirens in the distance, confirming the pilot’s words.

  She was alive. Lord almighty, she was alive.

  * * *

  “When are you letting me the hell out of here?” Kathryn asked the doctor. The man she loved was waiting for her, and she had no intention of staying in this emergency room one minute longer than absolutely necessary.

  The doctor looked like he was barely old enough to shave, never mind to have graduated from medical school. Which wasn’t surprising, considering she was in a small community hospital in rural Virginia. The doctor was strictly a lightweight; he wouldn’t be any match for the Ice Queen. She was as good as sprung.

  “There are no signs of fetal distress or of a concussion. I’m still waiting on some test results, but assuming they come back the way I expect, you can leave as soon as someone arrives to pick you up.”

  Kathryn pinned him down with her eyes. “I’m holding you to that.”

  “Now, Kathryn, don’t give the man a hard time. He’s just doing his job.” Martin Brubaker stepped into the room. “Please bear with Mrs. Tyler,” he told the doctor. “She’s not known for her patience.”

  The baby doc looked at Kathryn with respect. “She’s one lucky woman. This will make quite a story to tell her grandchildren—how she walked away from a plane crash with only a few superficial bumps and bruises.”

  The doctor left the room and Marty sat down next to Kathryn. “You scared us all half to death. Talk about sacrificing your body for the team.”

  “Where’s Steve? Does he know I’m all right?”

  “Yes. He’ll be here soon. He was at work when he got the news. I was closer, so I volunteered to be the advance party.”

  “I didn’t mean to make anyone worry. I was just trying to get home as soon as possible. A plane crash was definitely not part of the plan.”

  The old man smiled. “No one’s plans work all the time, not even Wonder Woman’s. But yours work most of the time. B&W will be in great hands when you take over.”

  Kathryn stared at her palms for a few seconds before returning her eyes to her mentor’s face. “Actually, Marty, that’s another plan that’s changed. I’m taking my hat out of the ring for the president’s job.”

  His face took on a gentle look. “Nothing like a brush with death to make a person realize what’s important.”

  “It’s not just that. I thought about what you said to me last week.”

  “About how your baby would suffer if you tried to have it all?”

  “No. About how exhilarating it was to build your own business from scratch. I’m going to start my own consulting company. I’ll still have to work long hours, but I’ll be able to work at home most of the time for the first few years, until my baby and my company have grown some.” She pulled her laptop from the floor and took it out of its case. “I’ve drafted a business plan. It still needs some polishing, but I’ll have time to perfect it during my two weeks’ notice.”

  Brubaker took out his glasses and scrolled down, skimming the document. “How long have you worked on this?”

  “About four hours. I started on the plane to San Diego.”

  “Always the overachiever. As you say, it needs work, but you’re on the right track.”

  “Until the crash, I didn’t think I’d have the nerve to use it.” She looked him in the eye. “I hope
you’re not hurt that I’m leaving B&W.”

  “No. I understand. But I’m sure Bruce will be disappointed that he has to compete with other companies for your services.”

  Kathryn felt a wide smile spread across her face. “Who knows? In a few years, he may not be able to afford me.”

  Steve’s bulky blond form appeared in the doorway. “Oh my God, Katie, are you really all right?”

  “Yes, and so is the baby. My only injury is a small bump on the head. Nothing a little ice won’t fix. And a hug.” She rose, laid her laptop on the chair, and held out her arms to him.

  Steve crossed the room and drew her into a hug so tight it felt like it would squeeze all the air from her lungs. “Oh, baby,” he breathed into her hair. “Now I know how you must feel when you think about me deploying. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost you. Especially after the way we left things.”

  Marty cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you alone. Three’s a crowd and all that.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kathryn saw her soon-to-be-former boss leave the room. She and Steve sat down on the utilitarian waiting room chairs and she took his hand in hers. Unshed tears pricked at the back of her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  He squeezed her hand. “No, I’m sorry. I was an ass. I should have trusted you.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. There’s something I need to say to you.” She reached out a hand and touched his cheek. “I love you, Stevie.”

  His eyes misted up. “Oh Katie, do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?”

  “Yes, I do, and I should have said it a long time ago. You were right about me when we said good-bye in Grand Cayman. I was a coward. I was so afraid of being hurt that I wouldn’t let myself admit how I felt about you. And I wasn’t considerate enough. Even though it was only business to me, I should have cancelled drinks with Jeff when I saw that my plans hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. You spent a small fortune trying to get home in time for my squadron party, even though I know the last thing in the world you want to do is spend time with more pilots.”

  Kathryn shook her head. “No. If I’ve avoided meeting your co-workers, that was out of fear too. I didn’t want to let myself get drawn too far into your world. But I’m over that now. I’m all in. I can’t wait to meet the people who have your back.”

  He grinned. “I’m glad. You’ll see; they’re really not so bad. Even Murph.”

  “I want to support your career.”

  “Right back at you. I’ll stop giving you grief about working long hours. I’ll be proud to be the president’s husband.”

  Kathryn smiled. “There have been some developments on that front too, but we can talk about them later. Right now all I want is for you to take me home.”

  * * *

  Once Kathryn and Steve arrived back at the condo, exhaustion overpowered her. She barely had time to yank off her clothes and crawl into bed before she fell into a drugged-like sleep.

  Several hours later, she woke up to find that Steve had moved to the far side of the bed and lay with his back toward her. Not acceptable. Crossing the expanse of sheet between them, she leaned over him so her hair brushed his chest, then brought her hand to rest on his stomach and shook him until he woke up. “What are you doing so far away?”

  He rolled onto his back, eyes still full of sleep, and looked up at her. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know you need to sleep.”

  “Not before I take care of you.” She slid her hand lower and curled her fingers around his dick, squeezing until it turned rigid.

  “I can wait.”

  “I don’t want you to wait. I want to do something for you now.” She squeezed him again, harder. “This is mine. I get to make it swell up big and hot and hard, and then make it shrink again. I want to see you come.”

  His breathing was ragged as he mumbled, “Kathryn...”

  “It’s Katie.” She lowered her mouth and licked the head of his penis, swirling her tongue around it as though it were an ice cream cone. She tasted a drop of salty moisture on the tip and smiled. “I think you’re almost ready.” She took his shaft in her mouth and cradled his balls with one hand. He groaned and his muscles tensed. She worked her mouth up and down in a steady rhythm until she sensed he was near the edge. Then abruptly she released him and sat up.

  A moan of frustration escaped his lips. ”What are you doing to me, woman?”

  Taking his cock in her hand again, she straddled his hips and leaned down so she could pull it into the deep vee formed by her swollen breasts. “I told you, I want to see. I want to look at that beautiful seed that filled my breasts with milk and my belly with a baby.”

  Steve let out a guttural moan and tangled his hands in her hair as she stroked him, steadily increasing both the pressure and the pace. Within moments he came, and came, and came, his release seemingly endless. “Oh yes,” she whispered, “you still want me.”

  “Like I want to breathe air.” He pulled her up so her head rested on his chest, just below his chin. “You make me feel eighteen again.”

  Kathryn cuddled tighter against him. “A few months ago I was resigned to living like a nun. I even thought I wanted it that way. Then you came along and made me feel like a woman again and wouldn’t let me shut you out. I know we’re about more than sex, but I’m glad the sex is so good.”

  He stroked her hair. “You took care of me so well I’m not good for anything. I owe you an orgasm.”

  “You sure do, bud. And I’m a ruthless businesswoman. I intend to collect in the morning, with interest. Compound interest.”

  “At an illegally high rate, I hope.” A satisfied sleepiness crept into his voice. “Plenty... time... in morning...”

  Yes, they had plenty of time. Time for her to be his wife and his mistress, his Madonna and his whore, to indulge her inner good girl and her inner slut. “All the time in the world,” she agreed, brushing his sleeping forehead with a kiss.

  Thank you!

  Thanks for reading Confessions of the World’s Oldest Shotgun Bride. I hope you enjoyed it!

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  Acknowledgments

  Clichés become clichés for a reason, and yes, it takes a village to raise an author. Though many people helped me make this book a reality, I owe special thanks to Kate Parker, Peggy Parsons, and Robin Kaye, my critique partners while I wrote the first draft; my agent Jill Marsal and my “sister” Jennifer L. Hart for their editorial assistance during revisions; my copy editor Alicia Street; and my cover designer Kim Killion. In addition, this book would never have happened without the emotional support of Liane Gentry Skye, Saranna DeWylde, and my family.

  About the Author

  Before becoming a writer, 2013 Golden Heart ® finalist Gail Hart spent a few years as an Air Force JAG and then settled in as a lawyer and manager for the Federal government. Despite what opposing counsel sometimes said about her briefs, she didn’t write any fiction until later in her career. She must have been destined to be a romance writer, though, because even the law review article she wrote had “sex” in the title. She spent most of her life on the east coast but now lives in San Antonio, where she doesn’t miss the cold. Confessions of the World’s Oldest Shotgun Bride is her debut novel.

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Gail D. Reinhart

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by The Killion G
roup

  Formatted by Author's HQ