Naughty Bedtime Stories: First Taste

by Trixie Taylor

  Looking up at him, her fingers crimson with Ryan’s blood, and anger coursed through her. Fire replaced the ice in her veins. Seeing the gun lying so close to her on the floor, Shayna reached for it.

  When he saw her movements, the gunman kicked out and connected with Kay’s shoulder blade, sending the dog flying across the room, connecting with the wall on the other side. Kay yelped and then nothing. The gunman scrambled for the revolver, but Shayna reached it first. She could hear the sirens getting closer; help was on the way. Determination made the decision easy for her; she raised the revolver with trembling hands, aimed and shot. Surprise passed on the gunman’s features when the bullet hit home.

  Shouts from the other end of the clinic cause Shayna to drop the gun. Rushing over to Ryan, she yelled for the police. “In here! Call an ambulance! Officer down!” Leaning over Ryan, tears ran down her face as she whispered to him, “Hang in there, Ryan. Please.” Feeling his pulse getting weaker by the second, Shayna didn’t even register the police swarming into her tiny office, she just prayed the ambulance would make it in time.

  Epilogue

  Putting on the last of her mascara, Shayna stepped back and scrutinized her reflection. Gazing into the mirror, she reflected back on the last six months, on everything that had happened since that frightful night. Seeing the paramedics wheel Ryan out of there and not being able to follow because Kay was severely hurt as well was hard for her to take.

  While the doctors had done their best to save Ryan’s life, she had fought for Kay’s. Glancing down on the dog lying next to her, she smiled gently at him.

  Sitting up, he nudged her knee with his nose.

  Thinking back on the first week after the operation and all the hours she spent every afternoon in the hospital sitting by Ryan’s side, telling him about her day and how Kay was improving. The shock arrived when she visited one day and he was gone, the doctors refusing to tell her where he was or if he were alive, indicating she wasn’t a relative. It was even worse coming in late the next day only to discover that the police had picked up Kay with no news about Ryan.

  Shayna felt like screaming and crying at the same time. Somehow she made it through the day and gotten home to find Ryan sitting on her front steps. For five minutes she sat in her car, staring at him and Kay. The smile he had been wearing when she drove into her driveway slipped off his face ever so slowly. With shaking hands and her heart in her throat, she watched Ryan limp off her porch and over to her side of the car, opening her door. Slowly she got out of the car, not truly sure of what she meant to him. Looking up at him, all her fear, anger and frustration came up to the surface and without thought, she slapped him. Hard.

  A knock interrupted Shayna’s reverie, and promptly brought her back to the present.

  “Come in!”

  The door slowly creaked open and her uncle peeked in, smiling from ear to ear.

  “Are you ready?” Smiling back at him, she stepped away from the mirror and twirled before him.

  “You tell me, Uncle Zackary.” Walking into the room, he offered her his arm, and gently smiled at her.

  “I think your father would’ve been proud of you, Chica. For everything you have accomplished.”

  “Things sure have changed since he died that day. For the worse and now the better.”

  The gunman survived her shot, unfortunately. It had given her more enemies, but also new friends. No one charged her for defending her own life, Ryan’s or Kay’s. Sure, there had been gossip about it. Some from the police force were pissed off at her for shooting someone – again. Her mother had refused to talk to her ever again. But it had also brought something good.

  Many from the police force and their families had begun to use her clinic for their pets and service dogs. Her business was booming, and she was happier than she had been in the five years since her father’s death. Smiling at her uncle, she accepted his arm and together they walked out of the door and toward the beach.

  In front of her, all her friends were gathered, Ryan’s friends and family were there as well, but more importantly, he was waiting for her at the end of the walk. The music played as Shayna and her uncle walked down the aisle, a gentle breeze moving her dress, making it sway. Looking up at Ryan, love and pride made her heart swell. He looked absolutely gorgeous in his uniform.

  Taking the last few steps toward him, her uncle took her hand in his and gave her to Ryan. A stern look crossed his face. “You better take good care of this girl. She’s been through plenty.”

  A blush crept up Shayna’s cheeks at her uncle’s words.

  “I promise, sir. I love her with everything I have - heart, mind and soul.”

  Zackary nodded at Ryan, letting him know he will hold him to his word.

  Ryan gently squeezed Shayna’s hand, his eyes smoldering when he looked at her. Both of them turned toward the minister standing in front of them as he began the ceremony, the old ritual marking their first steps of their joined future together. Shayna smiled, a smile that grew a little when she thought of what she found out that morning.

  * * *

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  Ryan didn’t hesitate, pulling Shayna closer as he leaned down and kissed her like she was the very air he breathed. Catcalls and whistles come from behind them.

  “I love you, Mrs. Michaels.”

  Another searing kiss curled her toes. “I love you too, Ryan. Maybe,” she smiled, “I should begin to call you ‘Daddy Michaels’.” Winking at him, she kissed him back, watching his eyes go wide in surprise before a huge smile spread across his face.

  “Daddy? Really? I’m going to be a dad?” His smile could have competed with the sun as it radiated with happiness. Dropping to his knees, he put his hands on her stomach and kissed it gently. Getting up, he pumped a fist in the air and shouted loud enough where everyone could hear him. “I’m going to be a dad!”

  The End

  Irish Sweets

  Lexi Ostrow

  Chapter 1

  Her palms were slick. Sweat coated them and when she rubbed them together to help quell her nerves, she cringed at the wet sensation. This was, without a doubt, the craziest thing she had done in her life. A mild mannered pastry chef, she’d never once done anything daring. Even when she was younger in her party days, she’d always been the one to be given the car keys to drive her drunken sorority sisters home. She’d by far preferred the company of a good book, a cup of hot cocoa and a delicious piece of cake.

  Which was ironically what had led her to dumping out her savings account on a plane ticket and an investment. She’d always dreamed of retiring to the countryside in Ireland. Specifically Kilkenny, and when the opportunity had come up to buy the small pastry shop she’d fallen in love with when she’d last been in the country, no hadn’t been an option. She’d been reading a recipe for a hot cocoa brownie with Guinness when the search result had shown the location for sale. If someone asked her how she got Google to pop that search up she’d never be able to tell them. But it had come up and she’d made the call and the offer instantly.

  Rissa turned her eyes to look out the plane window. The ground below her slowly shifted into view. Gone were the colored lumps of shapes and in their place flecks of colors, red and white and even yellow began to form mini cars. The water view that she’d been watching for the past several hours had given way to plots of green of land in various shades.

  Ireland was mere minutes away now, the distance growing shorter with every second. And as she stared out the window she couldn’t help but think about how similar the land looked. It had been nine years since she had last been to Ireland. A college study abroad program had left her fascinated with the country, but was also the culprit of her decision to switch careers. She’d fully intended on being a science teacher and after a week in Ireland eating the delicious food, she’d been trapped into the idea of baking.

  The shrill ding of the plane’s communication system made her
skin crawl, she hated loud noises.

  “Good Morning and welcome to Ireland. We are about to make our final descent and should be on the ground in twenty minutes. Please make sure all larger electronics such as laptops and DVD players are powered off and stowed, and that your seats and tray tables are in their upright and locked position.”

  Taking a deep breath she put her head against the scuffed plastic window and forced herself to breathe slowly. “Just breathe, Rissa. This was a good move. A great move.”

  Her business back in California, Sweets for Sweets, wasn’t a financial blowout, but she’d been doing really well for herself. The store was right off the main drag in Long Beach and summers meant tons of customers to make happy. But selling the store hadn’t been an issue. It was her baby - not to mention her safety net. So her mom and best friend, Trisha, were looking after things while she attempted to start a new location internationally.

  “International.” Her comment was breathy and barely audible but it didn’t stop the larger female next to her from over hearing.

  “What? Yes we’re international now.” The older lady hadn’t been the most entertaining of seat buddies and Rissa had done her best not to disturb her during the flight.

  Color pinked her cheeks at her embarrassment and she wished she could just slip right through the window. Trying to distract herself she tied her cool colored blonde hair back into a tight bun, always tight because it wouldn’t suit to bake with loose or dangling strands. Her mom told her it made her face look harsh and she quickly pulled the tie from her hair and changed her hair into a pony tail, already annoyed at the feeling of the tips of her hair brushing her mid back, but she wanted to look more carefree. Something to match the crazy action she was committing by coming here.

  The ground was rushing up, faster and faster and the shades of green melted into one beautiful blanket when she was no longer high enough to really see the border lines between the different fields and patches. Dublin began to form quicker and quicker. The nerves in her stomach twisted and strangled her, but she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. This was going to happen and maybe she was even going to finally get her life together after so many years of being business driven instead of relationship driven.

  ***

  Rissa tugged her giant purple suitcase off the baggage claim belt and bit hard onto her lower lip when the little wheel slammed all of the bag’s weight onto her big toe. “Damn, damn, damn!” She yanked her foot out from underneath the bag and shook it trying helplessly to bring some feeling back into it. “Thank God it’s only seven in the morning.” She’d taken a Red Eye flight and not too many were there to witness her flailing around like an uncoordinated fish out of water.

  When the pain ebbed down to a dull throb she pulled the handle up on the big suitcase as well as the smaller one and went to meet her arranged car at the pickup. Rolling the two bags while balancing a fairly heavy carry-on on her shoulder was harder than she’d thought. Twice she’d bumped one of the suitcases into her foot and tripped forward and three times the carry-on had slipped from her shoulder and almost tugged her sideways from the weight. Add in the mist that hung heavy enough for actual raindrops to fall now and then and she was a recipe for disastrous walking. How she didn’t kill herself was a miracle to her.

  By the time she’d made it to the car stand, she was breathless and tired from the weight. She did her best to catch her breath before going to the window to check in and get to her ride. “Hello, I have a pick up scheduled. Rissa Pembly.”

  There was silence as the man inside the little box tapped away on the keys. His brow furrowed with a frown and hers mimicked his because she had a feeling he didn’t do that when things were dandy.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. It appears your transport is late. Please take a seat on the benches. We’re showing approximately a thirty minute delay.”

  She took a deep breath and blew it out. She didn’t have a temper, but maybe it was because she always did that. “And you’re positive he’ll be here then? I have a late bus to catch tonight, but I had hoped to look around the city.” She could feel the frown on her face, but couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

  “Sorry, ma’am, there’s nothing I can guarantee due to traffic and such.”

  She sighed and nodded before helplessly tugging the bags to the metal bench. She stared down at it and groaned before running her fingers over the surface.

  “Yup. Wet. UGH!” She dropped down onto the wet bench anyway and felt the cold dampness soak into her cotton dress pants. She heard a chuckle behind her and did her best to ignore it. Right now wasn’t the time to pick a fight she would certainly lose.

  “Lass, if you don’t mind me saying, water is a natural occurrence in Ireland. Best ta get used ta it now if you’re staying.”

  The accent crashed over her from the man who’d presumably laughed. A shiver streaked through her body. Her favorite part of Ireland - the panty wetting, fantasy inducing accents. Something the desk clerk had been missing, but this man surely wasn’t.

  Don’t turn around, Rissa. He’s probably old and you’re letting his accent make you think he’s hot. She had a habit of thinking anyone with the Irish and Scottish lilt in their voice was hot, only to turn or look up and see some kind and caring old man smiling at her. Not this time, Rissa. Just take out your Kindle, ignore him and read until one of you leaves.

  Sliding out her Kindle she pushed the button on the bottom and leaned back when the words appeared onscreen. The water seeped past her shirt and cardigan and she reflexively shivered at the coolness of it, but refused to let the man on the bench behind her know her discomfort and lost herself in the book she hadn’t quite been able to finish on the plane.

  “What are you reading?”

  The accent assaulted her senses again and she felt the odd sensation of a body being too close to her. When her eyes unfocused on the Kindle she noticed a face slightly reflecting at her through the white text on screen. A devastatingly handsome face with an accent that sent heat and desire flooding through her body.

  Definitely not an old man, Rissa. Not this time. She put the Kindle down on her lap and looked up slightly to see he was standing next to her now. Her breath caught in her throat. The Kindle screen hadn’t done him justice. His hair fell into his eyes, a light caramel color that barely hid the blazing blue of his eyes. They were dark though, like the depths of the ocean. His cheekbones were high and his smile wide revealing perfectly straight, white teeth. His lips were on the thicker side and an image flashed, one hand wrapped in her hair, those lips fastened around her nipple and his other hand snaking its way down her body trailing heat wherever it touched.

  She gasped before she could stop herself and he pulled back just a hair and suddenly she missed the sensation of his body being her general sphere of space.

  “Sorry, lass. I dinnea mean ta spook you.” He flashed that smile again and had she been standing her knees would’ve buckled from the pure charm and sex that oozed from him. “I’m a reader myself. Just couldnae help wondering is all.”

  She swallowed, hard. His accent was a damn assault on her body. Every word wrapped around her like a sensual caress and his mouth distracted her eyes at the same time. She shook her head, trying to shake the stupor before she answered and sounded like an American idiot. “Deadly Charms.” Her tongue felt thick in her mouth and she wanted to die. She wasn’t the outgoing type and never, ever flirted with someone she didn’t know. Not that she was flirting, but still.

  “Ah, one I’ve not yet heard of. Care to share?”

  She’d been transfixed by his eyes and now realized this man was going to be the sensual death of her if she kept falling prey to his looks like this. When his hand brushed hers as if to touch the Kindle, lust spiked and she felt her body quiver with need. You’re being ridiculous, Rissa. You cannot want to sleep with a stranger. You just cannot.

  “May I see it? I promise ta give it back ta you.” He wiggled his brows and she laughed
, a real laugh and flushed.

  “Sure. Not like you can go too far and leave your luggage right?” She sounded sultry to her ears and wondered if he heard the tone and prayed that he didn’t. She wasn’t a prude by any standard, but she didn’t want to seem like a whore either. Though she’d bet a whore would even pay him for a night with him. Her bedroom activities had been known to leave men blushing, but she did not hop into bed with strange men.

  She went to pass him the device and his hand lingered on hers. This time she did moan softly and she didn’t even care if he looked at her funny. His touch was gentle, but he held it there, almost as if he enjoyed touching her as much as she was enjoying him touching her. But then he did let go and the spot on her hand where his fingers had been went cold and she crossed her arms over her chest, to distract herself from trying to touch him and to appear nonchalant.

  She watched his hands as he flipped his finger over the screen and she found just another thing sexy on him. His hands were large and she loved men with hands big enough to hold onto her and make her feel small and tiny. Which she was anyway at barely five feet two inches, but something about a man with big hands really kicked her into gear.

  He really was reading the book. She watched as his eyes moved back and forth across the digital screen and felt a slight tingle of disappointment. Of course a sexy Irish man hadn’t been interested in her. For just a moment she’d thought he was faking his curiosity to talk with her, but three minutes later and she was still stalker staring at him and he was completely absorbed in whatever chapter of her naughty romance she was reading.

  “Shit.” A naughty romance…and now he would know just what she was reading.

  “’Scuse me, lass?” He didn’t look up when he asked and she would have died to be able to just laugh it off.