Insta Ever After: A Flirt Club Short Story Collection

by Kim Loraine

  "Okay, Franklin, I'm here."

  It's then that I see her. Rosie is standing in front of me. She looks like an angel, or a fantasy. "Rosie? What are you doing here?"

  She smiles, her bright eyes shining, full red lips inviting. "You said you needed a wife."

  "I might've said that, but I also said that I will wait until you are ready."

  Stepping forward, she places her hand on my chest. It's warm and real and perfect. "I don't think you should have changed your name."

  I frowned, shaking my head. "What are you talking about?"

  "You signed your letter to me, Mr. Whenever You're Ready, but I'm ready right now."

  There's a knock on the door, and Franklin, who has been sitting behind his desk with a shit-eating-grin on his face, stands and opens the door for the person waiting for entry. A judge walks inside, her expression serious.

  "Franklin, this better be quick, I'm on my lunch break." The woman stares at the two of us, then looks to him. "I'm assuming this was the happy couple?"

  My heart leaps that the realization of what is happening right now. "Rosie, we don't have to do this right now. We can wait. We can take as much time as you need."

  She takes my hands in hers, and stares into my eyes. "The thing is, you were right. Love at first sight is real, and I don't want to waste any of our moments together waiting because it's what we think society wants."

  I glanced at Franklin, his cheeks red with excitement. "But we don't have a marriage license."

  Franklin nods and produces a sheet of paper from a folder on his desk.

  "All taken care of," he says handing me a pen. "Now take care of this wedding, so Justice Hall can get back to her chambers."

  It goes by in a blur. In a few minutes Rosie and I promise to love, honor, and obey one another, forsaking all others, as long as we both shall live. We are pronounced husband and wife, we sign the marriage license, and then, I take my new bride's face in my hands and kiss her like I've never kissed anyone before.

  I wanted a wife, right now. I ended up with the love of my life.

  41

  Epilogue

  Rosie

  Three years later

  I groan at that sound of the alarm clock from my bedside table. I have to get up, even though I don't want to. My husband is coming home today, and I have some very important information to share with him.

  Throwing off my covers, I get to my feet and fight the wave of nausea that hits me almost instantly. My hand goes to the small round bump of my belly and I can't help but grin. I haven't seen my husband in five weeks, and a lot has changed. For instance, I'm twenty weeks pregnant.

  I didn't find out until the end of my first trimester. And by then, Ben was at the beginning of a water purification project in the Sudan. I haven't been able to reach him, and honestly, I wanted this to be a surprise.

  "Petal?" Ben's voice catches me completely off guard. He's not supposed to be back until this evening.

  The sound of his feet on the stairs sends a thrill through me. His voice rings out again, calling me by my nickname, and my damn hormones get the better of me. Tears spring to my eyes.

  He opens the door and stands there staring at me with such a look of love on his face.

  "Hi," I say, hand on my belly.

  "God, I missed you. I still wish you would've come with me." He crosses the floor, and pulls me into his arms before kissing me.

  "I know, but it's a good thing I didn't. There's a lot I need to tell you."

  He pulls away, staring down at me with concern in his gaze. "What are you talking about? Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine, just a little… emotional." I take his hand and slide it over the swell of my belly. "I hear that happens when you're pregnant."

  His eyes widen and shine with the light of excitement. "Are you serious?"

  I nod. "Twenty weeks."

  "You knew before I left?"

  "No, no. I had no idea. After you left I had a yearly doctor's appointment, they took some blood work, and I turned up pregnant."

  He laughs and rubs my bump. "Well, I suppose we'd better make some changes."

  "What do you mean?"

  "We can't travel all over the world with a newborn."

  "Yes, we can. We can make a lifestyle out of it. We can teach our child to care for others, to see the world, to do good things. We can make sure this little one grows up knowing that there's more to life than our own points of view. And we'll do that together."

  He pulls me in, holding me tight and stroking my hair. "I love you. So much."

  I let him hold me, and I give into the tears welling in my chest. But these tears are ones of pure joy for the life we've built after one quick decision led to a lifetime of love.

  Forever His Baby

  A Forever Ireland Short Story

  42

  Brenden

  I’ve never seen myself as the type of idiot who’d fall for a lass the first time she gave me a smile, but it happened, and now I’m done for. I’ve seen her time and time again at The Brass Kraken, but she’s always been with friends. Now she’s here, sipping a pint with some guy. I hate him.

  “You know, if you stare at her long enough, she might call the police and then your pub will be out of business because the owner is an arse.” My brother, Thomas waggles his eyebrows and I bristle. He’s just fucking with me, but he’s right.

  “Stop running your mouth about things you don’t understand,” I growl. The rowdy crowd cheers when the band I’ve brought in for St. Patrick’s Day starts up with a cover of Dropkick Murphys’ I’m Shipping Up to Boston. “Why did you come in tonight if you’re just going to take the piss?”

  He laughs, that hearty, full-bellied laugh he got from our father. “Brother, I understand plenty about the way you’re lookin’ at her. She’s a fine thing, to be sure.”

  “She’s here with her fella. It’s not worth wasting my time.” I down my pint and move to head back to the bar.

  “Feck off! You don’t expect me to believe that load of shite, do ya?” He shoves my shoulder and laughs. “You’ve mentioned this American beauty more than once. Now’s your chance. By the way he’s ignoring her, I’d say he’s not going to have her much longer.”

  As if by magic, the guy drops some money on the table and gets up, leaving her alone with a frown turning down those perfect lips. Instead of leaving, she finishes her drink, then takes her date’s nearly full pint.

  “Go on, it’s the perfect time. Just put a sock on the doorknob if your room’s occupied.” Thomas winks and nudges me with his elbow.

  I roll my eyes, but laugh along with him. Then her eyes find mine across the pub and I stop laughing. I let my feet lead me to her, nerves mixing with confidence in a strange cocktail of emotions. All around me are customers celebrating Paddy’s Day, dancing, singing along, and drinking. I weave through the crowd until I find myself at her table, hand on the back of the chair vacated by her date.

  “You mind?” I ask, not really sure what the fuck I’m doing, but I don’t want to leave her in my busy pub all alone.

  She gestures to the seat and says, “Go ahead.”

  “You an American?” I ask as I slide onto the seat.

  Raising her glass, she takes a drink, then sets it back on the table and nods. “I am. Let me guess, you’re a good old Irish boy who wants to try some American tourist on for size?”

  I nearly choke on my beer. “What? Why would you say that?” Part of me is hurt she doesn’t know who I am. I own the damn pub and she’s here every week. I’m not exactly invisible. We’ve exchanged hellos.

  “Because the guy who just left asked me if I’d ever had an Australian kiss…in Irish gaelic. I guess he thought I wouldn’t be able to understand him.”

  I try not to laugh, I really do, but that pickup line is the worst I’ve ever heard. “So what did you say back to him?”

  “I told him how I liked my eggs in the morning.”

  I frown. “How’s that
?”

  “Unfertilized.”

  This time I can’t stop myself. I laugh hard. “In Irish, I assume?”

  “Of course.”

  Her dark wavy hair falls over one shoulder and my fingers want desperately to feel if it’s as soft as it looks. “How’d you come to know Irish?”

  “My gran is from Cork. She brought me up with stories told in Irish. I’ve wanted to come here since I was little. So, I came for my final semester abroad at Trinity.”

  My brows lift at the mention of Trinity College. “I have to admit, I’ve seen you hear a time or two. How long are you in Ireland?”

  “I’m actually leaving soon. But first, I’m supposed to meet up with some friends for a concert.”

  “Is it Blackthorn?”

  She nods. “Some friends of mine turned me on to them when I moved here. I doubt I’ll get another chance to see them perform live.”

  “They’re wicked live. I’d go, but my brother and I leave tomorrow morning to head home to our ma’s. Our wee sister is getting married on Tuesday.”

  She grins. “Really? Where are you from?”

  “Thomas only lives about an hour outside of Dublin, but he looks for any chance to get away from home. Ma still lives in the same house we grew up in. That’s in Killarney.”

  “And you?”

  I grin. “I’m here.” I motion upstairs. “This is my pub. I’ve got a place above.”

  “You own this place?”

  A light laugh falls from me. “Ma was none too happy with my choice to move out here, but…the heart wants what it wants.”

  Her gaze drops to my hands and then back. “You followed a girl?”

  “I did. Then she left, but I stayed.”

  She reaches for me, her fingers brushing mine on the table. “I’m sorry.”

  I shrug. “I’m not. She wasn’t who I thought. We were barely out of school and fancied we’d have this wildly romantic life together. Turns out, you have to work hard to provide a life for someone. She didn’t like that.” Dragging a hand over my jaw, I sigh. “Now I own my own bar. I’ve got myself a home, a dog, and more than I could’ve asked for.”

  “What’s your name?” Her question catches me off guard. Have I never told her my name in all this time?

  “I’m Brenden.”

  “Emma.”

  I know her name. I’ve known it since the first night she walked into my pub. But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I shake her hand and stare into her crystal blue eyes. “It’s lovely to meet you, Emma.”

  She doesn’t drop my gaze, a connection sizzling between the two of us. Then she takes back her hand and raises her glass. I follow, the two of us clinking them together and uttering, “Slàinte.”

  “So, I’m off to a concert, you’re off to a wedding. We might never see each other again.” Her words make me uncomfortable, like she’s saying goodbye before we really get started.

  “Skip the concert. Spend the evening with me. It doesn’t have to stop here.”

  “I don’t want it to, but realistically, I’m leaving for good after the semester is over. You’re settled here. I’m just starting to plan my future.”

  “Wrong place, wrong time,” I mutter. In reality, I waited too long. I hesitated to make a move because of all my fucking baggage and now I’m going to lose her.

  “You know, Brenden, I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me for months.”

  My heart lurches. She’s been what? “Pardon?”

  “Waiting. Why else do you think I come in here every week?”

  “I…fuck,” I mutter. She’s been waiting for me to make a move all this damn time and now I’m going to lose her. “I didn’t realize—”

  “So, let’s make the most of what we have left.” Her words are low and seductive. “I may be at the end of my time here, but I’d much rather spend one night with you than go see a band play. I think you’re better than any rock star I could ever find.”

  43

  My God, this woman. Emma’s sweet and beautiful, sure, but she’s also different from any woman I’ve ever been with. But I don’t think I could have a taste of her and let her go. “Did you just proposition me, lass?”

  She smiles and my cock forgets all my reservations. “I did.” Then she turns bright red and covers her face with her fingers. “God, I can’t believe I did that. You must think I’m desperate.”

  I want to tell her she’s my daydream come to life, that I’ve been falling in love with her slowly over the last few months, but I don’t want her to think I’m daft. “You’re…perfect.”

  She peeks at me from between her fingers and smiles. “Really?” When I nod, she relaxes a bit, taking a long drink of her beer. “I’ve never had a one-night-stand, but you’re everything I want with your dark hair and green eyes, and I’ve spent every day of my life being careful. It’s time to live a little.”

  “Are you sure what you really want is one night?”

  “It’s all I can offer.”

  I grin. “Maybe I can sweep you off your feet with my Irish charm and you’ll never want to leave.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  The music changes and I take her hand. “Come on, darlin’. Let’s dance before I wake up and find out this is all a dream.”

  She giggles and lets me pull her onto the dance floor. The music is upbeat and the two of us dance until we’re out of breath and laughing. Having her in my arms is exactly what I’ve fantasized it would be.

  “Brenden?” she asks, stopping our motion and staring up at me.

  “Emma?”

  “I’m ready for you to sweep me off my feet now.”

  I should be worried about what my staff or my patrons think, but I don’t give a damn right now. I do what she says. I sweep her into my arms and carry her toward the back of the pub. Thomas laughs when he catches sight of us, raising his pint in cheers. He’s got a buxom blonde in his lap and his attention is blessedly diverted almost immediately. This is my time with Emma and I don’t want any distractions.

  On our way up the stairs, she threads her fingers through my hair and an ache builds in my cock. I want her so fucking badly I could burst. “Emma,” I groan. “Fuck, Baby, I want you.”

  “Me too, Brenden. I’m so glad you came to my table.”

  I shove open the door and carry her inside, not bothering to flip on the lights. My big, fluffy Australian shepherd runs up to us, his tail wagging and tongue lolling. “Not now, Bingley,” I grumble.

  “Bingley?” Emma asks with amusement clear in her tone.

  I shrug. “My sister named him. She’s got a bit of a Jane Austen obsession.”

  “So does my mom. It’s why my name is Emma.”

  I stride into the bedroom and kick the door closed, leaving Bingley outside. He’ll get his chance to win her heart, but it’s my turn now. “If we only have tonight, Emma, I want to make sure we both never forget this.”

  “Then can you turn on a light? I want to see you.”

  I set her on her feet and switch on my bedside lamp, bathing us both in soft light. Then, I tug my shirt over my head, never breaking eye contact save the second the fabric passed over my face. I love the soft gasp she gives me, the hungry glimmer in her eyes. She steps forward and her fingers graze my bare chest, tracing the lines of my tattoo.

  “The tree of life.” Her fingernails skim the ink etched into my skin, sending a rush of pure arousal straight to my already hard length.

  “Do you have any?”

  “Tattoos?” She cocks a brow and smirks. “I have one, but you’ll have to find it yourself.”

  Reaching for her, I grab her by the waist and tug that perfect body into mine. “Challenge accepted.”

  Slowly, I tug her top over her head, watching as the light casts shadows along her curves. Her bra is light blue lace, thin enough I can see her nipples, and fuck, I want to pull one into my mouth and suck until she cries out. I drop her shirt and sit on the bed, bringing her with me as I go. Her
tits are eye level, and I’m ready to make her moan. I lean in, ready to dive into her, but she stops me.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

  Fuck, she’s right. I’ve been so wrapped up in being here, with her in my room, I forgot the thing I’ve fantasized most about. “I’d better remedy that straight away.” I pull her down until she’s straddling my thighs and in one second flat, I’m kissing her luscious lips.

  The taste of her mouth is better than I ever imagined. Sweet cherry, vanilla, and…Emma. My tongue presses into her mouth and she lets out a soft sigh that’s erotic as fuck. Her hips grind against mine as our kiss goes from hot to scorching and I never want to give her up. I don’t know how, but I have to convince her to stay.

  “Brenden,” she moans, her kisses trailing over my jaw and down my throat. “Why did we wait so long?”

  “I have no fucking clue.”

  She reaches around and unclasps her bra, letting her breasts fall free. Her nipples are dusky tips, tightened to hard little points, begging for attention. I dip my head and claim one between my lips, sucking and swirling my tongue. The arch of her back and low, throaty moan that comes from her sends desire straight to my dick. I move to her other breast, doing the same while she grinds on me and makes me buck into her.

  “Why do we have so many clothes on?” she asks, her voice a breathy wild thing.

  I don’t answer, instead I grip her hips and stand, before turning around and dropping her onto my bed. She squeals and laughs, but quickly goes silent when I reach for my belt buckle. When she takes her full bottom lip in between her teeth, I have to bite back a groan. She slips her shoes free of her feet and shimmies out of her black jeans while I undress at the end of the bed. Her knickers matched the bra, but my favorite part is the damp spot between her legs where she’s obviously wet for me.

  “You’re like a goddamn fantasy,” I murmur.