Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3)

by Anne Berkeley

  “Again, I’m only a nurse. I can only tell patients about routine care on a confirmed diagnosis. You’re her friend. It should come from you.”

  Coop groaned in lament as we headed back to the house. “Come on, Lev. We’re going inside.”

  “You really don’t want to tell her,” I observed. “Is her reaction really going to be that bad?”

  “These aren’t just dogs. They’re Em’s babies.”

  “You see my point where Levy might be turned off about her,” I pointed out. “You’re afraid of her reactions, but he’s supposed to accept her with open arms.”

  Coop pondered this briefly. “I guess so.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I checked to make sure Levy and the dogs were following. My foot slid out from under me on the wet grass. On instinct, I grabbed for the closest thing. Coop. But pulled my hand back half reach, in fear that I would take her down with me. My knee hit the ground first, and then my hands. Mud crept between my fingers, oddly warm.

  “Oooohhh,” Coop crooned, looking down upon me. She covered her mouth, hiding her amusement. I’d thought. She confounded me when her nose wrinkled in disgust.

  The smell hit me first. Oh, God, no. I looked down. Yup. Fuckin’ dog shit. I’d slipped in dog shit. I had dog shit between my fingers.

  The dogs came running over, but when they caught the scent, they quickly decided better and ran off toward the house, their tails tucked between their legs. Fuckin’ cowards.

  “Ew yucky,” Levy stated. “Das yucky.”

  Lifting my hand, I wiped it across the wet grass, trying to remove the bulk of the mess. After doing the second, I rose from the ground. It was on my knees as well, and my shoes. My favorite pair of suede slippers. A hundred and twenty bucks down the drain. I’d never get the smell or the stains from the suede.

  “I’m so sorry,” Coop apologized. “They’re supposed to clean it up when they walk them.”

  “It’s fresh.” Perceptible by the steam coming off my hands and knees. “I think they just did it while we were out here.” I motioned to the house. “Do you mind?” I was sure they were wormed. However, I wanted to wash my hands with desperation.

  It wasn’t that I hadn’t dealt with bodily fluids before, but I usually had gloves on. This was under my fingernails and everything. Visions of parasites swam through my mind, thanks to my mother’s constant assurance that all dogs were filthy and filled with all sorts of worms.

  “You have an outside spigot?”

  “In the driveway, but the water is turned off for the winter.”

  “It’s fine.” The place was private enough that no one would see anything. “I’m going to take my stuff off at the door so I don’t track anything in the house.”

  “The floors are tile if we go in through the kitchen.”

  “Em’s cooking in the kitchen. I don’t want to contaminate anything.”

  When we reached the backdoor, I pulled my shoes from my feet. I couldn’t get my pants down with unbuttoning them, and I couldn’t unbutton them without spreading dog poop on myself.

  “Let me help,” Coop said. Reaching down, she unbuttoned my jeans for me, and began to peel them down my hips.

  “I’ve got it from here,” I told her before she could drop to her knees. “You shouldn’t be bending.”

  “I’ll grab a trash bag and some paper towels,” she suggested.

  “Good idea.”

  Coop stepped inside. I began to work my pants down my hips. Of course, my shirt sleeves kept falling down, carelessly smearing poo on the cuffs. Cutting it as a loss, I tugged my shirt over my head. Then stepped on the ankle of my jeans and pulled my legs free one at a time.

  That’s when I heard the gates to the entry swing open. I stood there in shock, watching the bus coast into the driveway, while my nipples pebbled against the cold air. The cups of my bra were sheer and half my nipples were peeking through the lace. I would’ve turned around, but the back was no better. I was wearing a thong. I made do with slinging one arm across my breasts, hiding them from sight.

  Where the fuck was Coop?

  The men filed off the bus like a pack of dogs. Carter was first. He had his head tilted back with a napkin balled against his nose, but it didn't appear to hinder the smile on his face.

  “What happened to you?” I asked.

  “Jake-off broke my nose. We came back so you could nurse me back to health. What happened to you?”

  “I slipped in the wet grass and landed in a pile of dog poo.” I held up my hands. “Want me to take a look at your nose?”

  “For real?” His eyes brightened with humor. His cackle echoed between the main house and the detached garage.

  “Shut up.”

  “When I said you were knee deep in it, I meant it as a euphemism.”

  I lifted my lip in a halfhearted sneer. “Haha.”

  “I think I might hate your dogs a little bit,” I told Shane, who wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or apologize. Prudently, he went with the latter.

  “Sorry.”

  Stepping off the bus, Tate bent and lifted Levy to his hip. “Puh-pul falled down.”

  “I see that. Did she slip and fall right out of her clothes?”

  “I fell and landed in a ginormous pile of poo. Shane's dogs are part rhinoceros. I didn't want to track it through your house.”

  Tate smiled widely, not bothering to hide his amusement. “I appreciate that.”

  Lifting my hands, I wiggled my poo-smeared fingers. “Perhaps you wouldn't mind getting the door then?”

  With a curl of his fingers, he beckoned me from the corner of the stoop I had backed into while trying to conceal my posterior. “The screen door opens outward. You have to move so I can open it.”

  I inched forward.

  “A little more.”

  I inched a little more. Behind me, Tate tugged the door open and held it for me. I had planned to back my way through the house like a coward, but as I watched Jake step off the bus, I stuck my chin in the air, whirled, and walked through the door. A chorus of muffled exclamations sounded behind me.

  “Violet,” Carter called out. “That is the best nurse’s uniform EV-ER.”

  Chapter 11

  A faint rustling woke me in the early hours of morning. It was still dark. Only the faintest of bleached moonlight filtered through the curtains. My head felt like a brick, and I could barely open my eyes. I never slept well when I wasn’t in my own bed, so once exhaustion finally claimed me, I usually slept like the dead. Tonight was no exception.

  “You awake, Shaw?” I was now. My heart rate kicked into double time. Rolling to my back, I grabbed the sheet to yank it over me, but Jake was quick to rip it from my grasp. “That was quite a show you put on with Carter.”

  Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he crawled toward me. I crab crawled backward, inching away from him. I kept my eyes on my feet, ignoring the way the moonlight highlighted his muscles as they rippled and flexed. “You weren’t interested.”

  Locking his fingers around my ankle, he yanked me beneath him. I slid across the linen with a soft whir. “The fuck I wasn’t.” Grasping my hand, he pressed it against the bulge of his jeans. “Do I fucking feel uninterested to you?”

  Despite myself, I stroked him from base to tip, rolled my palm over the head. My mouth watered. My knees loosened.

  Exhaling harshly, Jake ripped my hand away. “Answer me!”

  “No!”

  “I said it was temporary, didn’t I?”

  “Why wait?”

  Dropping his head, his breath burst warmly against my ear. “It’s all part of the buildup, Shaw. Have I taught you nothing?”

  Sitting up, a smirk played at his lips. His eyes darted above my head. I followed his line of sight. My wrists were bound in a length of dark satin. When had he done that? I gave them an experimental tug. These were no amateur knots. Mild panic set in. “Untie me, Jake.”

  “I think you need a lesson.”

  “Jake!”
r />   “Patience can be rewarding. That’s what we’re going to work on tonight.” He glanced at the window. “Maybe I should say this morning.” Disappointed with himself, he shook his head. “I had to sneak out of the hotel, Shaw. You made me break the rules again.

  “Untie me.”

  “Patience.” Rising up, he slid lower over my hips. His fingers slipped under the hem of my cami and pulled it up over my head, blindfolding me.

  “Jake! Un-fucking-tie me!” My voice was loud in the silence.

  My shirt came down. Jake stuffed a lump of fabric in my mouth and tied another strip of satin around my head so that I couldn't spit it out. Then he pulled my shirt back into place, blinding me again. Mother fucker. I said as much too. Though it came out garbled by the gag.

  Contrary to my resistance, my body thrummed with anticipation. Holy fucking shit.

  “Shh.” Lightly, his fingers traced across my collarbone until they found the hollow at the base of my throat. They followed the rise of my chest and rose up the swell of my breast. He circled my nipple once and then pinched, teasing it into a peak. I whimpered and tugged on my restraints.

  Ignoring me, he continued his sweet fucking torment until the sensitivity waned and I arched my back, reaching for his touch. For a moment, he paused. I heard the rustle of clothing and then his fingertips at my nipple, pulling. A stronger pressure. Almost painful. A barely audible click. Holy…a fucking nipple clamp. Did he just place a clamp on my nipple?

  My clit now had a heartbeat.

  Without delay, he began tending to my other breast. Welcome to the land of plenty. I was ready to come. So fucking ready. And he’d barely touched me yet. He was merely doing a little nipple play and I was wet between the thighs. If he kept this up, I was facing multiples.

  “If you like that, Shaw, you're in for a treat.” I heard another faint click and something whirred to life. Lifting one leg, he slid it between my thighs, parting them. My knees fell open in wanton invitation. So much for resistance.

  Slipping his fingers between my thighs, he groaned low in his throat. As did I. They vibrated against me with delicious friction that had me thankful for the fabric muffling my cries.

  “Jesus, Shaw.”

  It took only a few strokes before I was ready to climax. Between the vibrations, his calloused hands, and the constant pressure at the peaks of my breasts, my body began to tremble.

  Jake's hand disappeared, leaving me hanging. “Uh uh. Not yet, sweetheart.”

  His zipper lowered with urgency. He shucked his pants down just enough to free himself, and thrust into me, his hips clapping against my thighs. The sound was softened by his jeans.

  I screamed with pleasure, thrusting my hips to meet him. I was so damn close it wasn't funny. Without slowing, Jake reached around my hips and slipped his hand between my thighs, teasing me with that tiny vibrator. Each time I came close to peak, he took it away again. I growled around the mouthful of satin and pushed against him, growing frustrated with his game.

  Rushing to meet the end, his pace hastened. His cocked stiffened inside me, bruising me with the force of his thrusts. With a few guttural growls, he thrust and froze, his body seizing against me. The only movement was his harsh breaths and the pulse of his cock as he came.

  Before the last tremor faded, he withdrew and tucked himself into his pants. “Play nice, and I'll play nice in return,” he said while tugging the satin free from my wrists. “But frustrate me, and I'll frustrate you in return. Remember that. There's your lesson for the week.” The door slammed behind him as he walked out.

  With a start, I sat up in the bed, shoving the sheets away from my face. A sheen of sweat coated my brow, warmed from the sun blazing through the window. The sound of Levy’s footsteps pounded down the hall, followed by Coop shushing him. I could barely hear them over the frenetic beating of my heart.

  A dream. It was just a fucking dream. Like all the others, it had felt so real. Though, this was, by far, the worst. He left me hanging, the bastard. I couldn't even get satisfaction in my dreams. I fucking hated Jake Whalen.

  Under the blankets, my phone vibrated. No fucking wonder I was having dreams about vibrators. I was lying on the thing. I must've incorporated it into my dream. Prying out from under my ass, I pressed the call button and placed it to my ear. “What.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Peter exclaimed. “Please tell me you’re not in bed with that fuck-face Whalen after he blew you off.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I’m alone.”

  “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Paisley.”

  “Fuck off, Peter.” I pressed the call button again and hung up. Less than a second later, it rang again. I took a deep breath and answered. “I think you need to apologize.”

  “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “You can do it without being a dick.”

  “Next time place a lock on your phone. You butt dialed me.”

  “I’m alone,” I repeated, with nothing else to say. Jesus. What the fuck could he have heard? “I was sleeping.”

  “Whatever. I don’t need to know the details.” He was biting his nails. I could hear the telltale click…click…click through the receiver. Peter always bit his nails when something was bothering him. “Look, I called to tell you, you might want to take a look online. Your boyband is plastered all over the front page.”

  “For what?”

  “Looks like they’re having trouble leaving the fast life behind.”

  “Shit. Peter, I’ll call you back.” Sliding out of bed, I tugged on my flannel pajama bottoms and headed out the door while plugging away at my phone. I was halfway down the stairs when I saw what he was talking about. In the photograph, Tate was exiting the dressing room. Behind him was Amanda Keller, wiping a smear of red lipstick from her mouth.

  Even worse, in the background, Jake was hitting on some hot blonde. She had her back to the wall. He had one hand resting above her shoulder. He was leaning in, gazing down into her eyes, his lips curled in a crooked smile.

  At that moment, I hated myself for sleeping with him. I felt dirty and used, which was irrational. I knew that it was a one nighter. I hadn't expected more. He was a musician. I was well aware of his lifestyle. No, I only had myself to blame. While unintentional, I’d deluded myself with notions that he might be interested outside of sex.

  Cooper, however, was married to the other musician in the photo. I was here to make sure she stayed in good health, and the stress of seeing her husband photographed with another woman was unconducive to my job. Clearing my screen, I jogged down the stairs to find her before she got herself worked up.

  Pushing through the kitchen door, my step faltered. Jake sat at the island across from Em and Coop. He must have taken the bus home directly after the concert. I wished he hadn't. A little more time would've been nice to collect myself before facing him again.

  “Puh-pul!” Levy exclaimed. Sliding from his chair, he hurried in my direction, his hands raised in the air. I lifted him under the arms and lowered my head to his. Ever since Carter's spectacle, he'd taken to Eskimo kisses. Who was I to deny him?

  “You're chipper this morning. Did you drink my coffee?”

  “No, I hab chocowit miwk.”

  “Ooh, I love chocolate milk! Are you going to share with me?”

  “No! Mine!” Wriggling in my arms, he slid down and ran off to secure his cup.

  Tate's father, Nate, folded his paper and stood from his chair. “What do you say we go to the diner for breakfast, son? You can have a smiley face pancake.”

  “Puh-pul come?” Levy looked from Nate to me.

  “Ooh, you know, I really need to get dressed.” I pointed to my pink flannel bunny-printed pajamas. “I might look silly wearing these.”

  Just noticing my pants, Levy smiled and giggled.

  “Maybe we can play some Candy Land when you get back?”

  “No. I go swimming.”

  “Sure.” If I was luck
y, he’d forget about swimming before he returned. Violet hair dye and chlorinated pool water didn’t work well together. I knew there was no way of swimming with a three-year-old and not getting splashed. I’d been avoiding the pool at all costs.

  “Come on, Lev.” Taking Levy’s hand, Nate left us to talk in private where we wouldn't have to curb our language. With the topic of conversation, swearing would be difficult to avoid.

  Coop unfolded the paper, her eyes sweeping over the page in disapproval.

  “He didn't do anything,” Jake assured. “She ambushed him in that dressing room. He couldn't have been in there more than a few seconds.”

  “I don't know why she would bother. She only dug her own grave. With the restraining order, even her daddy's money can't get her out of this one.”

  “She's desperate,” Em stated.

  “She's a fucking cunt,” Jake said, simply put.

  “Have a seat, Paisley.” Em placed a cup of espresso on the counter in the space beside Jake. When I hesitated, she added a biscotto to the saucer. “Mangia.”

  If her cooking wasn't blessed by the gods, I might've declined, but since she was baiting me with caffeine, I braved up and planted my ass on the stool. “Somebody needs to give her a taste of her own medicine,” I said, voicing my opinion.

  “You’re right,” said Em. “She does.”

  “So who wants to cut the bitch?”

  Em smiled. “As much as I’d like to, that’s not exactly what I meant. Italians believe that when someone gives you the evil eye,” she cut me a scathing glare, demonstrating her point, “they give you the malocchio, a sort of curse from someone harboring jealousy.”

  “That explains everything,” said Coop, wryly. “She’s been working her magic since she waylaid me in the bathroom.”

  “Well, if she did, we’re going to send it back to her, twofold.” She pulled a large mixing bowl drying beside the sink and filled it with water then placed it at the center of the island. “I need something of yours, Coop. A loose thread, jewelry, um…a bobby pin…?”

  “I don’t have any of those.”

  “A piece of your hair.”