USA Today Bestselling Author - Red Phoenix is an award-winning romance author (and submissive in real life) who gained popularity with her series, Brie's Submission.
When she is not writing, you can find her on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram interacting with fans. "I heart my fans!" ~Red
Goodreads
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
Newsletter
Also by Red Phoenix
Over Two Million readers have enjoyed Red’s stories!
* * *
1-click the First Box Set for FREE
Brie’s Submission (Books 1-3) https://goo.gl/EY3bho
Brie’s Submission Series: https://redphoenixauthor.com/reds-books/brie-series/
Teach Me #1
Love Me #2
Catch Me #3
Try Me #4
Protect Me #5
Hold Me #6
Surprise Me #7
Trust Me #8
Claim Me #9
Enchant Me #10
A Cowboy’s Heart #11
Breathe with Me #12
Her Russian Knight #13
Under His Protection #14
Her Russian Returns #15
In Sir’s Arms #16
Bound by Love #17
* * *
Also part of the Submissive Training Center world: Safe Haven (Captain’s Duet, #1) Slated for 6/12/18
Destined to Dominate (Captain’s Duet, #2) Late Summer 2018
Confessions of a Cockblocked Wingman
Daisy Prescott
A short story starring the cockiest Wingman, Tom Donnely.
Copyright ? 2018 by Daisy Prescott All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Confessions of a Cockblocked Wingman
First of all, you should know that when people call me cocky, I always take it as a compliment. Sure, sometimes they add asshole or prick as an insult, but that's okay, I probably earned it. Pretty confident even my beautiful wife has called me cocky dozens of times and a few of those times were in anger, not awe.
Such is life.
With great abundance comes great responsibility.
And I have more than my fair share when it comes to looks, talent, and luck.
Sure, call me cocky. Call me a reformed man whore. Hell, I still happily answer to Tom Cat.
But don't think for one minute, not even a second, that I'm not one hundred percent loyal and completely in love with my wife.
Hailey is my beginning and my end. As long as she’ll have me, I’m hers. I want to be old and crotchety with her.
Cocky or not, I'm not stupid enough not to realize when the love of my life is mad at me.
Banish might be too strong a word, but when she gave me “the look” and told me there was nothing to eat in the house, I knew I'd be better off hunting and gathering dinner than sticking around. And I'm smart enough to bring the baby with me to give Hailey a break.
Shaw happily chirps away in his car seat behind me in Hailey’s new Highlander while I pull into a parking spot and pull out my phone. I have no idea what Hailey wants to eat and won’t risk grabbing something she hates. While I wait for her to respond, I strap on the baby carrier and secure my six-month-old son against my chest, facing out so he can see the world.
I didn't bring the cart cozy thing Hailey uses and there's no telling what germs are coating the seat and handles. Better to avoid cross-contamination. You never know when there’s a stomach virus lurking around.
“You're staying strapped in today, buddy.” I rub his head. His pale blond hair curls at the ends. There's zero doubt he's mine. And if there were, his tendency to flirt with every woman he sees would erase any speck of uncertainty. Little dude has his dad's charms.
My phone vibrates and pings with Hailey's list. I laugh when I see the mix of salty junk food, chocolate, and random staples like cereal and milk. I know we have a half gallon of milk and four boxes of her favorite cereals at home. With my thumbs hovering over the screen, another message comes through. She's also placed an order from Sal's Pizza for me to pick up on the way home.
Figures.
On our way into the store, a few women I don't recognize smile and wave at Shaw. Their eyes light up when they see him, some deep, primal desire brightens their smiles.
Babies are irresistible to a lot of women. The scent of baby wash alone can flip a switch inside a woman. I don’t think I ever realized the full extent of this power before watching women react to Shaw.
I should’ve been more prepared. After all, Hailey and I reconnected at my sister’s baby shower. The power of tiny humans was at work on me even if I hadn’t realized it then.
Even sleep deprived and feeling like I’m doing things wrong with Shaw half the time, I really want Hailey pregnant again. We aren’t using anything to prevent it, but we’re not exactly trying either. Hell, we barely have sex these days, choosing sleep above almost anything else. Need to change that. I miss my wife.
“Hi there, good lookin'. Aren't you a dream boat?” a woman who appears to be my mom's age makes a beeline for us, hands outstretched and fingers wiggling. In the past, my ego would take the compliment, flash her a grin and put a smile on her face. But her smile isn’t for me. Nope. She’s focused solely on Shaw.
Not taking any chances, I grab a cart and keep it between her and us.
Shaw laughs and claps his hands, his tiny feet swinging and kicking way too close to my groin.
One of our would-be attackers sighs. “Nothing cuter than a man with a baby. And the cheeks on both of you. I don’t know which I want to pinch more.”
She must be friends with the local gossip brigade. They’re more perverted than most men I know.
Weaving my way through the aisles, I dodge more women with the same gleam in their eyes. I can feel the weight of their staring.
One lady sneaks up in a side ambush, her hand brushing my arm before she tickles Shaw’s sock-covered foot. “I love a man with dimples.”
I don’t know which one of us she’s complimenting.
Happy for the attention, Shaw bounces and jiggles against my chest, waving his arms and giggling.
“You aren’t helping,” I whisper near his head when the tickling woman walks away. “It isn’t my face that’s at risk of being pinched.”
After a woman in a Whidbey sweatshirt rubs a peach against her cheek while eyeing us, I decide to get out of the produce section.
I curse Hailey for requesting breakfast sausage after running into Connie, who makes a comment about girth when she sees me holding a roll of Jimmy Dean.
At that point, I resolve we need to start ordering our groceries online.
Even though ice cream isn’t on the list, I decide to buy a couple of pints, knowing we can never have enough.
“Well, if this isn’t the most ridiculous, asinine thing I ever thought I'd see. Tom Donnely parading around like a kangaroo.” Olaf's voice surprises me from behind.
With three pints of ice cream tucked in the crook of my arm, I close the freezer door and face him. Shaw claps his chubby hands and gurgles at the cranky bartender from the Dog House. He must like the old man's beard.
It isn’t like I've been playing pool on Thursdays with my baby. I'm sure Shaw would have a good time hanging out with the guys, but I think Olaf's head might separate from his body and float away if we brought our kids into his bar. John's son, Mac, is the same age as Shaw and we've started a bet on when the two of them will first get in trouble together. John’s wife Diane and Hailey joke if they're going to turn out anything like their fathers, we should put the money into a fund for bail money because we'll need the compound interest.
“Hey, Olaf.” Using a falsetto, I wave Shaw's arm.
“I've seen everything now,” Olaf grumbles. “Next thing I know you'll be asking me to turn the bar into a romper room.”
I chuckle because I called that. “Might help your business if you were more family friendly instead of snarling at everyone.”