Read GettingLuckyinGalway Online
Authors: Allie Standifer
GettingLuckyinGalway (12 page)
“Fine.” She huffed out an irritated breath or at least tried
to. Something about him had her fighting a smile more often than not. She loved
being around him, listening to the soft cadence of his accent and hearing his
skewered view of the world. “It still doesn’t solve the problems out there.”
“Love, I’m Fae, even better I’m a leprechaun. Magically
delicious!” The smug tone in his voice made her want to bury him in a mountain
of marshmallow cereal treats.
“Magically delicious, my ass,” she muttered softly, but not
softly enough if the swat to her bare ass was any indication. “Hey, what
happened to the basking? We’re supposed to be basking in our mating and great
sex. Slapping my fluffy ass is not the way to earn round three…or four.”
“Love, I think we’re beyond counting rounds and,” he leered
at her, “your ass is not fluffy. It’s perfect.” So saying, he rubbed his warm
palm over said body part several times.
“Moving on.” Calder rolled out of his arms and away from his
tempting touch. Yes, she loved the way he couldn’t get enough of her and the
feeling was way too mutual, but it didn’t negate their need to talk. Someone
had to be the adult in the bed and unfortunately it seemed it would be her.
Gracefully sliding to her feet, Calder tugged the sheet with
her. No way would she give her mate additional reasons to tumble her back into
bed. “Behave, you lecherous lout. There are decisions we actually need to
make.”
He gave her an award-winning pout worthy of any
tantrum-throwing three-year-old. “Why screw up amazing bed play with talk of
out there?” He waved an arm to encompass the world outside the fishing camp.
“Because,” she answered, tucking the soft sheet between her
breasts in a toga-like fashion. “Reality is out there. Reality that we both
live and work in.” Calder eyed the handsome Fae currently using his magic to…
Oh hell, he was popping into the private lives of celebrities.
Hands on hips, she scowled down at his handsome face. “Why
are you looking at…” She stopped to peer closer at the magical flat screen
hanging in the air over the wide bed. Recognizing the long, shiny, luscious
mink-born locks, doe-slanted eyes and trademark full pouty lips, Calder smacked
her Fae mate on his naked thigh. With enough power behind the touch to ensure
it hurt.
“Bloodthirsty woman.” He waved the peeping Roark magical TV
away. “What did I tell you about abusing me with those mighty paws of pain?”
“Quit calling them that,” she protested, more for form than
because she thought it would do anything to change his mind. The man didn’t
change anything without a few sticks of dynamite and maybe the order of the Fae
queen.
“Quit trying to take off favorite parts of my body.”
She rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself. “Every part of
you is your favorite.”
Waving a hand up and down his lean, tanned, muscled,
fantasy-inducing bod, he smirked at her. “Do you blame me?”
“I’m getting a headache,” Calder complained instead of
risking an answer back to him. The man had way too much power over her as it
was.
“I think you were supposed to use that line before you came
screaming my name in unbridled pleasure.”
“Ugh,” was all she managed to come out with. The man slapped
her common sense away. “You make me crazy.”
“At least we agree I’m right.” He snapped his fingers and
shot her a cocky wink.
Immediately to her right a table right out of a five-star
restaurant appeared, complete with silver-domed plates, champagne flutes and
sparkling silverware. The napkins held the initials of a New York iconic
restaurant.
“You stole this?” Appalled, she grabbed the wheeled wooden
trolley and tried to shove it away. Where she thought she’d bring it didn’t
occur to Calder, she just wanted the stolen property out of her sight.
“I don’t need to steal, love. I left enough gold to more
than cover what I took.” He shot her an annoyed look. “You opinion of Fae is
beginning to annoy me. Looking down at an entire race for some prejudice is
small, petty and beneath you.”
“Hey,” she started to snap back at Roark, but some remnant
of sanity stopped her. Instead she dropped her hands to her sides and simply
shook her head. “We’re not getting anywhere arguing. How was I supposed to know
you paid for the meal?”
“Well,” he drawled out casually, “you could have asked me.”
“Damn tricky Fae, I hate when you’re right.” Feeling
childish and petty, Calder kicked the trolley then jumped around cursing as her
big toe throbbed in pain.
“Oh Calder, if possible I think I love you even more today
than I did yesterday.”
Time froze as the implications of his carelessly laughing
words echoed through the room.
“Um…huh?”
“Eloquent as always, my dear.”
“Shut it, marshmallow treat,” she warned even as she
wondered how normal people expressed and received love. ’Cause it probably
didn’t get any weirder than what Calder and Roark shared. “As a first
declaration of love, that sucked, but hey, since I love you too it makes us one
hell of a pair, right? Who else would want us?”
“Sometimes I think fate or God has a freaky sense of humor.”
Roark walked over to embrace her, his touch sinking right into her heart and
soul. “By Mother Nature, I do so love you, Calder. I can’t breathe for it.”
She slid her hand through his silky black locks and pulled
his head back until their eyes met. “No one else could get away with saying
those kinds of things to me. You are my air, Roark. I hate you for making me
love you so much.”
Even with her neck buried in the rich, fresh scent of his
neck, Calder could almost see the rise of his brow and the smirk curving the
lips she loved to feel all over her body.
“Aye, my love, we’ll keep the mushy stuff between the two of
us, yes. To the rest of the world, we’ll remain our perfect, mocking, sarcastic
selves.”
Lifting her head enough to meet his addictive lips, she whispered
against them, “You’ve got a deal, leprechaun.”
With a quick but passionate kiss, Roark pulled away and
swept her up in his strong arms. “Come on then, let’s seal this deal, shifter,
naked.”
“I do like the tricky way you think, Roark.”
Epilogue
“To our mutual success!” Perfectly cut crystal glasses
gleamed brightly in the soft light as Nob and Dora touched their champagne
flutes together.
“Yes, my lovely Dora, to our success and to the children of
our hearts finally finding love with each other.” Nob sank back into the plush
seating, his little legs sticking straight out on the velvet couch. “Might I
say you did a wonderful job scaring our charges into each other’s arms. Not to
mention giving my Roark a swift kick in the pants that he so desperately needed.”
Dora’s musical laugh filled the elegant room. “Think nothing
of it,” she said. “I merely gave them both a tiny shove in the direction they
both wished to go anyway.”
Nob saluted her with his almost empty flute. “Yes, but still
the mysterious voice coming out of nowhere to torment and tease the man did
work splendidly. Roark ran straight into your Calder’s arms.”
“Hmm, yes.” Dora tapped one perfectly painted purple nail
against her gloss-shined lips. “Too bad she had to run back to Louisiana to
understand it’s no longer home.”
Nob’s craggy features fell into a sorrowful expression.
“Yes, but sometimes the only way for a child to grow and fly is to knock them
out of the nest first.”
“I suppose,” Dora agreed. Then she drained her glass, tossed
the fragile crystal in the air only to wave a hand and the flute disappeared.
“We achieved our goal, Nob. You have your Roark settled and happy, as is my
beloved Calder. However our success has started me thinking. What if there is
more we can do? Together, I mean?”
“More? What exactly are you saying, Dora?”
Leaning forward, eyes sparkling, Dora spoke in a low voice.
“For several years my sisters and I have dabbled in matching up mates. Friends’
daughters, neighbors and the like, but with your connections we could expand.
Mates can be found for all those we love. The immortals would no longer look
for reasons to fight each other, not when their possible mates may part of a
different clan, pard, family or species.”
Her words swept through him as understanding dawned. “The
wars could be stopped.”
“Maybe not all of them. After all, we are made up of various
battle-hungry species, but maybe we could at least remove some of the
temptation to declare war.” Dora sat up, a thoughtful but hopeful look crossing
her pretty face.
“The idea is brilliant,” Nob agreed. “I know the exact
leprechaun who needs a mate desperately.”
“Who is it?”
This time it was Nob who leaned forward, as much as his
shorter stature would allow. “His name is Devon Greenleaf. A cockier leprechaun
you’ve yet to meet, I assure you.”
“Oh I do like this sound of this. Please tell me more,” Dora
encouraged.
And Nob told her exactly how he wanted to pair up his cocky
charge, and his suspicions of the young male’s true mate.
About Allie Standifer
Allie Standifer has lived in various places around the
world. The gift of travel enables her to create the rhythm and feel of far-off
places and feed an overactive imagination. Her life has been one of constant
adventure, including growing up in Saudi Arabia, where her brother tried to
sell her to Bedouins (for what amounts to less than $1.50). It’s been nonstop;
she loves every minute of it.
Ideas, plots, characters and conversations keep her company
inside her head and fuel her need to write. And no, they don’t tell her to
start fires. :) Tired of everyday stories, Allie adds paranormal
twists to her tales. They’re filled with past lives, chain-email-sending
oracles, mythical creatures, magic, sexy gods, and heroines who know exactly
what they want—and aren’t afraid to go get it.
Free time is spent spoiling two nieces and two nephews,
pumping them up on sugar and caffeine and buying very loud toys then sending
them back to their parents. The perfect revenge for all the slights of being
the youngest child. When not writing or contributing to the delinquency of
minors, or trying to outsmart her psycho cat, she spends time with her
wonderful and supportive family.
Allie welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email addresses on her
author
bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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Ellora’s Cave Publishing
Getting Lucky in Galway
ISBN 9781419942327
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Getting Lucky in Galway Copyright © 2013 Allie Standifer
Edited by Jillian Bell
Cover design by Kendra Egert
Photos: RomanceNovelCovers.com and Wjarek, Sara Cheriton Jones
and NinaMalyna/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication February 2013
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