A tall, lean, unshaven man opened the door wearing only a pair of cut-off jeans. He smiled lazily, sweeping the door wide, totally unperturbed that she had caught him half naked.
“The lovely Carla, I presume?” Carla felt her face heat. Was he laughing at her? What had Jim told him about her? Or maybe he was one of these Irish rogues she had heard about, flattering a woman into the sack. Well, he could save it; no way was she bedding Jim O’Brien’s brother. Even if he was gorgeous…and muscular…and had molten chocolate eyes. Not even the cleft in his chin was going to tempt her. Or the dimples in his cheeks. Or indeed the twinkle in his eye. No! Stop it! Especially not the twinkle in his eye, she mentally scolded, you know a twinkle is not good news.
“I’m here to pick up some blueprints,” she said, quite abruptly. “They’re in the office apparently.”
“Ah, that would be my bedroom now,” he said, eyes dancing with mischief. Carla gave a flustered reply, and headed toward the office. It smelled of man and beer. Definitely one to watch: drinks too much and enjoys flirting, she decided. She almost felt relieved. As if writing him off as husband material gave her a sense of freedom. She didn’t have to impress. She located the envelope and returned downstairs, deliberately averting her gaze from the open door of the master bedroom. She didn’t like to think what went on in there. She wished she could hate them, or even sneer at them as a miserable couple. But Carla didn’t have that luxury. She headed toward the front door, not even bothering to go to say goodbye, but Kieran’s voice halted her in her tracks. She paused until he reached her.
“Will you have a coffee with me? My charming family abandoned me and left me to my own devices on my first day here, and I don’t like talking to myself. The replies are most unsatisfactory.”
Although she still got the feeling he was having a joke at her expense, it seemed rude to refuse, so she went to the kitchen and filled a mug of coffee.
“Pancakes?” he offered.
“No, I’m dieting,” she said too quickly. He eyed her up and down.
“You’re officially mad. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’ve a beautiful figure.”
That’s it, he’s definitely mocking, she decided. He was becoming safer territory by the minute. Two could play at that game.
“And you must be pretty comfortable with your body, since you like to entertain half naked,” she retorted.
It was Kieran’s turn to look flustered. “Shit, sorry. I forgot, be right back.” Carla listened to the sound of his bare feet on the steps as he took them two at a time. She felt smug at making Kieran feel as uncomfortable as he made her. When he returned, he had a crumpled tee shirt on. He made some remark about his poor packing skills and not having got round to ironing. His embarrassment was quite endearing. It put them on a level footing.
“So, your dad and Jim are business partners. Does he live here too?” he asked.
“No, my folks live in Denver. They were too settled to move. Mom has all her charities and things to keep her in the city.”
“So what brought you here?”
Carla realized then that he didn’t know a thing about the place. She had some vague recollection about Ange saying something about their families being ashamed of the publicity. Sooner or later he would find out. An unsuspecting vanilla in Corbin’s Bend for three months: This was going to be fun! Carla couldn’t help but wickedly wish to be present the moment the realization dawned on him.
“I liked the location and the whole community ethos. Corbin’s Bend is different as you will soon find out. Why did you come?”
“Woman trouble. I needed to get away,” he said candidly.
“Want to talk about it?” Carla couldn’t help asking. She’d bet her life that he was caught cheating and she was dying to know if she was right.
“No, not really. I’d rather talk about you.” He started asking her all sorts of questions, nothing too personal, just work, interests, etc. She was impressed; he was polished and made it seem for all the world like he was interested in her dull life; even her involvement in Corbin’s Bend committees such as the entertainment committee and the neighborhood watch and her babysitting for neighbors’ children seemed to hold him captive.
“You sound very busy. What do you do for fun?” Kieran asked.
“That is fun,” she insisted. She didn’t tell him that she volunteered for these things because time sat heavy on her hands, or because she was trying so hard to recreate a place for herself in the community having upset so many of the residents. Carla never meant to upset people, she just seemed to have this dreadful foot in mouth disease that meant she always ended up saying something catty and horrible, especially when she most wanted to impress or make friends. She had an inner bitch that seemed beyond her control, no matter how she tried.
“Do you exercise?” Carla asked by way of changing the subject. She figured from looking at him that he did something to keep in shape.
“A bit, sometimes I need to work off the frustration from sitting at a computer all day. Why?”
“Because I really need to run a few errands now, but I will be doing a work out in a couple of hours and I’ll bring you with me if you like. Gym, swim or run?”
“Ah, here. You couldn’t be running in this heat. How about a swim?”
“This isn’t hot, wuss! Wait until next month. But okay, a swim it is. I’ll be back at twelve, thanks for the coffee.”
Carla rushed through her chores so she could take a longer time off. Normally she exercised alone; the company would make a nice change. She was sorry he chose to swim though; you couldn’t exactly talk as you were cutting through the water. With a stabbing clarity, Carla became aware that she had shut herself off too much with the shame of her behavior. She missed people. She knew what she needed to do. She would make an appointment with a professional disciplinarian and deal with her guilt and try to move on. Once the resolution struck her, she felt lighter.
“Come on, lazybones. You’ve had two hours doing nothing and you’re not ready to leave yet,” Carla admonished as Kieran pottered about filling a water bottle with no sense of urgency. She was anxious to get to the pool as soon as possible as her valuable time was being eaten up. She still had the drive to Denver ahead of her. They walked the short distance to the pool, passing the impressive dome shaped community center which completely captured Kieran’s attention. He was still marvelling it as they entered the pool area, which was busy enough with loungers rather than swimmers. A lot of the residents lunched there in summer.
“Race you,” she challenged as she hurriedly stripped down to her bathing costume. She dove into the water, barely rippling the surface. The cold on her hot skin was delicious and she swam the first length under water, easily beating Kieran, who swam well enough, but with an unpolished stroke that had more splash than efficiency.
“I was being polite, not showing you up,” he justified as she waited. Carla laughed and started swimming for real. Her power and style were yards ahead of his, so she slowed down a little not to seem a show off. After fifty laps, she stopped a while as Kieran was out of breath.
“You’re not very fit, are you?” she blurted without thinking.
“No, it’s not that. I’m just not much of a swimmer. I can never get the breathing right. I never took lessons, just learned by watching others.”
“I’ll teach you if you like,” she offered, almost to her own surprise, then took off down the pool again, embarrassed at her forthrightness. After another thirty laps, she was done and she climbed out to dry in the sunshine on a lounger next to Kieran. She walked him back to Jim’s house afterwards, afraid he might get lost. She saw Brandon and Dina, Jim’s next door neighbors getting out of their car. Dina had a scowl on her face, so Carla decided it was best not to shout out any greetings. Brandon swatted Dina on the backside as she went through the front door.
“What’s going on there?” Kieran asked, looking concerned.
“Oh, pay no attention to Brandon and
Dina, they’re always playing about. No doubt it’s some silly game. You’ll get to know them soon, as they’re pretty friendly with Jim. They’re a cute couple.”
Kieran didn’t look convinced, but Carla ushered him along. Her heart was racing; she wanted to be a fly on the wall when he found out, not the one who had to explain it to him. Once inside the O’Brien’s home, he seemed to forget about it and Carla could breathe easy again.
Over the next couple of weeks, Carla kept her word and collected Kieran religiously every day until he was swimming like a fish. He still seemed pretty oblivious to what the community stood for, or at least made no reference to it, which she thought he would, at least he would if he was into it. They talked over a wide range of subjects without coyness or embarrassment, and she had no reason to believe spanking would be any different. They were lounging after their swim and she was mulling over the issue, wondering if she should just ask him outright, or make a casual remark when she overheard Kirk and Bethany, two long standing residents, who were on loungers close by.
Bethany was bemoaning that she had just ruined her new designer handbag, one that apparently Kirk had told her to return and he was not happy. Carla knew exactly where the conversation was going and she wasn’t taking any risks. She looked at Kieran; he was relaxing with his eyes shut, soaking up the sun. Instinctively, she took her ice cold water bottle and dumped it over him. He shot up, eyes blazing, and Carla decided the best thing was to laugh and run, make a game of it and let Bethany and Kirk have their conversation in private. She took off. Kieran dashed after her. She was laughing so hard he caught up easily and cornered her. Once trapped, he backed her right up against the wall. Carla started wrestling him off, but he defeated her by tickle torture, something Carla couldn’t stand. He then lifted her up, threw her over his shoulder and walked over to the pool. He placed a playful swat on her behind, and unceremoniously dumped her into the freezing cold pool.
Laughing at how indignant she was, he held out his hand to pull her out. Just as she was reaching the side of the pool, Carla kicked against the wall, pulling herself, and Kieran back down into the water. For a moment, they were entwined in the water. In spite of the cold, there was a heat between their bodies. Kieran’s eyes were dark. He pulled her toward him and she knew what was on his mind. She was not going there, not with a non spanko. She splashed cold water in his face, laughed and extricated herself from his grasp. Once again, her acting without thinking had nearly landed her in an awkward place. Carla vowed to be more careful around Kieran, so he wouldn’t think she was giving him the come on. The first man in forever that she wasn’t interested in, and he tried to make a move on her. Carla had to laugh at the irony of it.
In spite of, or maybe because of her lack of interest in Kieran, she enjoyed his companionship. He was easy company and Carla never felt like she had to put on a show for him. After a while, Kieran started joining her for an evening run too, to allow Jim and Ange to have some private time. She liked that he was aware of their needs for privacy but as yet had no idea if he knew what they got up to. By default, they seemed to spend more and more time together. It had been a long time since Carla had someone who sought her out above anyone else, and she blossomed in it. Confidence slowly returned as she found that without desiring to impress, she could simply be her real self and she was having fun. Carla tried to make herself available as often as possible just to spend time with Kieran.
One evening, while out on their run, Carla twisted her ankle. Kieran carried her home, over his shoulder, all five foot nine of her, ignoring her squeals of protest. No one had lifted her up for years, not since her teens. She was just too big for that nonsense.
“Put me down,” she squealed, panicked at the loss of self control.
“Oh, stop being such a baby. You can’t walk on that ankle,” Kieran scolded. Still, Carla kicked and tossed about in his arms, desperate to free herself.”
“If you keep that up, you’ll make me drop you, then you’ll have more than a battered ankle,” he warned. For the briefest moment, Carla misunderstood and tensed for the expected swat on her tooshie. When it didn’t come, she remembered it was Mr. Vanilla she was dealing with and started struggling again. By then he had reached her front door.
“Key,” Kieran demanded.
“It’s in my pocket. You’ll have to put me down,” Carla snipped triumphantly. He set her down on the step, holding onto her elbow, and as soon as she fished it out, he snatched it from her and swept her up in his arms again before she had a chance to protest.
Carrying her through to her living room, he placed her on the sofa before rummaging around her kitchen. Angry at the invasion of privacy, and the inability to actively do anything about it, Carla shouted at him.
“Stop snooping around my house. I wouldn’t go into your house and start opening cupboards.”
“So save me the trouble and tell me where to find your first aid kit and painkillers,” he replied. “Never mind, I just found them.”
He returned, carrying a glass of water, the first aid kit, and ice pack and a couple of Tylenol. Carla refused the Tylenol. It wasn’t sore enough to warrant pain killers in her opinion. A couple of days rest and she knew it would be perfectly fine again. Not to be deterred, Kieran place a cushion, topped with the ice pack under her slightly swollen foot and asked her for Marcus Devon’s telephone number.
“No way, Kieran. It’s eight thirty in the evening. The man has a family and this is definitely not an emergency. If it’s not better by morning, I will go see him then.”
“He won’t mind. Maybe you broke it.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s not broken. Go home. You’re driving me crazy. Go fuss over your niece and nephew.” She knew it was earlier than Ange and Jim would expect, but if he stayed there one more minute longer, fussing over her like a mother hen, Carla would not be responsible for her actions. Sore ankle or not, she would have to cause him actual bodily harm.
Chapter 3
No. Stop. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please. No more.”
The unmistakable sound of Ange crying and pleading hit Kieran as soon as he entered the house. Then he heard a harsh slapping sound. At first he was confused, until he heard another and another, and Ange squealing more apologies. He neither thought nor cared about marital privacy. Brother or not, there was no way he was letting Jim beat up on Ange and he went barging into the bedroom. Ange was lying across Jim’s knee and his belt was doubled over, raised for a smack. Kieran ran to the bed and punched an astounded but helpless Jim smack bang in the face. With Ange lying across him, there was absolutely nothing Jim could do to defend himself, and concentrated instead on protecting Ange from any ill effects.
“Get the fuck out, Kieran. This has nothing to do with you,” Ange roared, trying to claw at the edge of the bedclothes to cover herself.
It wasn’t until after he had thumped Jim that Kieran noticed that Ange was totally naked. Embarrassed for her and angry with Jim, he stormed out, but not before taking in the red, angry welts across her backside and her even redder face cheeks.
“If you ever lay another finger on her, I’ll see you dead,” Kieran warned before slamming the door. He tore downstairs, shaking with rage. He couldn’t leave the house in case Jim set in on Ange again, but staying was dangerous because he wanted to beat the shite out of his brother. He paced the kitchen, totally at a loss at what to do. He heard the door open, and Jim walked in.
“It’s not what you think, Kieran. Ange and I practice a thing called Domestic Discipline. We have rules, when she breaks them, I spank her with her consent. We both like it that way.”
“That’s a good one. You beat up your wife and tell me she likes it. I suppose it’s more fucking original than she deserves it. You’re a bastard, Jim. I never, ever saw you as a wife beater. Even all through the trial.” Kieran’s hands were clenched. It took all of his self-control not to use Jim as a punch-bag.
“I do not beat my wife. I smack her ars
e when she does something she and I agree is undesirable and Ange is very happy with that arrangement. As long as you remain in my house, I expect you to respect the choices we make, and if you don’t like them, either shut the fuck up or find somewhere else to spend the next three months. Just ask Ange if she’s unhappy with the arrangement,” Jim replied in staccato fashion, as if attempting to control his rage, before leaving the room.
It was obvious to Kieran that Jim went to cool off. But Kieran felt Jim had no right to be angry— he was the one in the wrong. It was time his brother realized that he couldn’t get away with that sort of behavior. Bloody hell, smacking your wife around the place was just so barbarian. Criminal even. No matter what name they chose to put on it. He really didn’t know if he could stay in the same house, and hear Jim beating his wife and not interfere, but yet he would be terrified to leave. What if something bad happened to Ange, and he had known what was going on, and yet had turned a blind eye? Then he would be as guilty as Jim. He would have to work on convincing Ange to leave and bring the children. He went out for a walk to clear his head and consider his options. Before long, he found himself at Carla’s door.
“You look upset. Is everything okay?” Carla asked, opening the door to admit him.
“No it bloody isn’t. Are there any pubs in this crazy place? I need a drink.”
“There’s plenty of cold beer in my fridge, but in return you have to tell me what’s bothering you. Get us both one,” she replied, looking apologetically at her strapped ankle. Kieran felt guilty for going there, he’d forgotten Carla’s accident earlier in his distress.
“Okay, out with it. Is it Corbin’s Bend or your woman troubles?” she asked as he handed her a bottle.
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