Ray picked up the old telephone in the small bar office, looking through his Rolodex for the number of the bakery. Buttercup’s birthday was coming up. Her cake of choice was Dutch double chocolate with chocolate buttercream frosting. Proud of knowing his way around a kitchen, Ray was not too proud to admit when it came to baking cakes, his confectionary skills were seriously lacking. Ray’s last attempt at baking a cake had ended up in flames, smoking him out of his house for hours. Wanting the cake to be perfect for the first birthday he would be celebrating with his sister, Ray dialed the local baker, Mrs. Sarah Fritz.

Sarah, a feisty and sometimes short-spoken woman, immediately lit into Ray, telling him in no uncertain terms that she would never bake another cake for Jessica, or anyone who was associated with ‘that woman’. Having to put on his stern voice to get to the bottom of the story, Sarah finally calmed down and rehashed the heated conversation that she and Jessica had weeks ago.

“That woman called up here and demanded I bake her a cake.” Ray knew that part of the story was false, Jessica was always polite and pleasant until her feathers got ruffled and when Jessica’s feathers got ruffled, you had better watch out. “I told her after the fiasco with Carrie, I would not be able to risk the cost and time it took to bake another cake.”

Ray interrupted, “Sarah, what if I pay for the wedding cake Carrie canceled, would you be able to call it even and bake for us again?” he offered.

“If it were for another family, sure,” Sarah started, “If Jessica hadn’t been so incredibly rude as to swear at me and call me nasty names. Now the damage is irreparable, I’m afraid,” Sarah sniffed into the phone.

“What were her exact words to you, Sarah?”

“Oh, I could never, ever repeat them. My mother raised me much better than that,” Sarah replied haughtily.

“But your mother did not teach you to be caring in the face of a medical emergency?” Ray asked. “Or to forgive when someone is pressed into difficult circumstances?” Ray waited patiently over the phone.

“Well… what she said to me was despicable,” Sarah protested, shifting the blame back to Jessica.

“Tell you what, I am going to pay for the wedding cake Carrie canceled. And I am going to have a serious talk with Miss Jessica.”

“You should,” Sarah said haughtily. “That girl needs to learn some manners.”

“You let me worry about that. Jessica will be apologizing to you, I’m sure of it.”

“Good, because—”

Ray cut Sarah off, “And you, ma’am, are going to bake me your very finest Dutch double chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting for my dear sister, Buttercup. And let bygones be bygones,” Ray said, sternly.

A moment of silence later, Sarah answered, “Fine. That will be just fine. If I get my apology, I suppose we can move forward with our business relationship. And I do love that Buttercup. She is such a dear. Jessica could take some cues from her on how to treat people.” Buttercup had taken to frequenting the bakery while visiting Poke. She had a sweet tooth that only Mrs. Fritz could satiate.

“I think so too, Sarah. Thank you for the cake. We will be looking forward to it.” And I will be looking forward to speaking with Jessica tonight, Ray thought, hanging up the phone.

* * *

Pulling up to the cottage, Jessica was pleasantly surprised to see Ray’s Jeep in the drive. She hadn’t expected him home until much later. Jessica had an afternoon cancelation at the salon, and Mama had insisted that Jessica leave Evan on the ranch a few more hours and take some time to herself. Hurrying in to greet Ray, Jessica hung her purse on the hook by the door. “Hey, baby. What are you doing home already?” Jessica asked, walking over to the kitchen where Ray was handwashing a few items.

Drying his hands on a kitchen towel, then wrapping his strong arms around Jessica, Ray said, “I have a little something I needed to take care of.” Ray kissed her deeply, the kiss making Jessica stand on her tiptoes, the warmth of Ray’s touch running through her body.

“Evan’s at the ranch until tonight, so we have the place to ourselves,” she said, feeling especially grateful for Mama’s babysitting offer.

“Perfect,” Ray said, making a line of little bites and caresses down her neck.

“What did you need to take care of?” she murmured between kisses.

Ray rumbled the answer to her question into her ear, “You.”

This afternoon could not be working out better. “Yummy,” Jessica giggled, excited by the thrill of a little unexpected afternoon delight.

Ray pulled away, holding Jessica at arm’s length. “Not like that, I’m afraid, honey.” He dropped his hands from her arms and went back to the dishes he was washing.

Standing alone in the middle of the kitchen, Jessica wondered why Ray had gone back to the dishes instead of throwing her over his shoulder and making for their bedroom. The answer to her question came when Ray said, “I spoke with Mrs. Fritz from the bakery today.”

Uh-oh. Hoping to leave the past behind her, Jessica had not considered that word of her heated conversation would make it back to her husband. Watching Ray as he worked, a ball of ice formed in Jessica’s stomach. In his hand, Ray was carefully drying a wooden spoon.

“Is that so?” Jessica asked. Clearing her throat, Jessica nervously crossed her arms over her chest. “What did Sarah have to say, exactly?”

Holding the spoon by the handle, Jessica watched as Ray brought the curved back of the spoon down on his palm with a sharp smack. Jessica jumped at the loud sound. “I think a more important question is,” smack, the spoon again hit the palm of Ray’s hand as Ray continued, “what do you have to say for yourself, Miss Jessica?”

Jessica gulped. “I can explain,” she said. She felt her eyes grow wide as Ray took another test slap of the spoon. The everyday kitchen utensil took on a menacing look. Taking a step backward from Ray, Jessica said, “Sarah was being completely ridiculous, and—”

“You cussed her out?” Ray interrupted. Spoon in hand, Ray crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging against the front of the tight shirt that he wore. Jeans slung over his trim hips, standing a full foot above Jessica, Ray looked incredibly handsome, and threatening. The way his jaw was set and the steely look he was giving her made the ice in her stomach melt, releasing fluttering butterflies. Looking sexy as heck, Jessica wished that Ray would drop the spoon and carry her off to bed, but she had a feeling that was not Ray’s intention. “I would like a response, young lady.”

Positive that her face was beet red, Jessica was past the point of trying to make excuses, deciding it was in her bottom’s best interest to answer her husband with, “Yes, sir. That’s pretty much how it happened.”

“Good girl, I’m glad you told me the truth. You and I need to have a little talk. Go and wait for me in the bedroom,” Ray said, pointing to the back bedroom with the handle of his spoon.

Feeling like an adolescent girl, Jessica gave Ray a look of uncertainty, to which he responded by raising his brow and giving his hand a tap with the spoon. Turning towards the bedroom, Jessica began a slow walk of shame.

Once she entered the room, Jessica looked around, unsure of what to do next. Should she stand in the doorway, looking like an idiot? Turn on the TV and watch a movie while she waited? Thinking of the loud, smacking sound that the spoon had made on Ray’s palm, Jessica decided the movie would not be a good choice. Jessica sat nervously at the end of the bed. At least sitting, she could protect her rear end a little longer.

Fidgeting and twisting her long hair in her fingers, Jessica became more nervous. This was surely the punishment spanking Ray knew would eventually come. And it was going to hurt, Jessica had no doubt. Just as she was considering making a break for it, Ray’s giant build appeared in the doorway.

Leaning on the frame of the door, spoon still in hand, Ray casually looked Jessica over. His gaze made her face burn, and she had to look away. “Jessica, what is my rule about rudeness?”

“It’s a no-no,” Jessica quickly answered. A big, no-no. Ray was polite and kind, though always firm, under any circumstance. Cussing people out was not tolerated and fell under his rule.

“What could you have done instead when Sarah refused to make the cake?”

Sighing, Jessica was unsure how to answer. Feeling childish but still angry at the witch of a woman, even angrier now that she had tattled on her, Jessica replied honestly, “I could have driven to the bakery and slapped her instead.”

“If you want to get fresh with me, young lady, I can take you right into that bathroom.” Ray pointed towards the master bath with the end of his spoon. “Wash your mouth out with soap, then spank you twice as hard as I planned on. Would you like that?” Ray calmly continued.

“Err,” Jessica was shocked and speechless. What had she signed up for? The look on Ray’s face told her that if she so much as uttered another inappropriate response, he would grab her arm and take her into the bathroom and make good on his threat. “I could have told her calmly that it was a terrible idea,” Jessica answered, humiliated.

“We can start there.” Ray walked over to Jessica, laid the spoon next to her and stood, arms crossed, in front of her. Looking down at the spoon by her side, Jessica was feeling like a bad, bad girl. Now, completely scared of the wooden implement, Jessica gauged the distance between Ray and the doorway, trying to figure out how far she could make it. Sizing up the huge man in front of her, she deciphered it would not be far.

“And when you told me the bakery story at the bar on date night, you left this little bit out, didn’t you?” Ray asked.

“Yes, sir.” Missing out on having a daddy growing up, she was learning very quickly what it was all about.

“Lying by omission isn’t any more honest than plain old lying in my book. I’m afraid I’m going to have to punish you for both.” Ray didn’t look a bit afraid to Jessica, but she was not in the position to correct him. “Stand up.”

Hesitantly, Jessica stood. Ray sat on the bed by the spoon, facing Jessica towards him. Standing in front of Ray like an ashamed, little girl, her husband took both of her hands in his. What he said next, made her knees weak, and the ice reform in the pit of her stomach.

“You are going to be thoroughly punished, Miss Jessica. First, I’m going to take you over my knee and spank your bare bottom until it’s cherry red. That will be your punishment for your rude behavior. Then we are going out to the kitchen, and I’m going to spank that little cherry bottom with this,” Ray picked up the spoon and held it up to her, “to remind you I will not tolerate lying.”

This was not fun and games. Or a sexy power exchange, though everything about the way Ray was carrying himself right now was drop dead sexy. This was the punishment spanking that Ray had warned Jessica would come. She was tough, she could take it, but she was scared.

Eyes locked on hers, Ray grabbed ahold of the waist of Jessica’s jeans and tugged her closer to him. Skillful, nimble fingers unbuttoned her jeans, Ray lowered the zipper. Running his hands along the waistband of the denim, Ray pushed the material over Jessica bottom and hips, resting them around her mid-thigh.

Wondering what panties she was wearing, Jessica looked down in despair, hiding her face in her hands. They were an old, pale pink cotton pair, with bunny rabbits dancing along the fabric.

Ray said, “Cute. Now, get over my knee.”

Feeling hopeful that Ray might leave the little bunny panties on for her punishment, Jessica quickly positioned herself over Ray’s lap, resting her upper body on the bed.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight in embarrassment, Jessica felt Ray slip the pink panties over her bottom and down her thighs to meet her jeans. “My wife will always be spanked on the bare, though you look more like a naughty, little girl than a grown wife, right now,” Ray said.

Placing a hand on her bare bottom, Ray waited a moment before raising his hand and bringing it down on her right cheek with a hard smack. Several more spanks landed in the same spot, and Jessica sucked in a breath through her teeth. Ray moved to the other side, placing five swats in the same spot on the left cheek.

“Is my message getting through to you, Miss Jessica?” his voice called out over the sound of the spanking.

“Yes, sir,” Jessica answered. The punishment continued, sharp slaps alternating sides. Bottom stinging, Jessica began to wiggle and groan.

“Punishment spankings hurt, don’t they, young lady?” Ray’s deep voice thundered.

“Yes, sir,” Jessica answered, tears stinging her eyes as Ray continued to spank her bottom. The slaps came down one after the other, leaving no part of her bottom unpunished. When Jessica thought she could take no more, the spanking stopped.

“Cherry red,” Ray said, sounding satisfied. “Now, stand up and go look over your shoulder at your bottom in the mirror. I want you to see what color that little tushy is going to be any time you decide that rudeness is the answer to a problem.” Ray helped Jessica to a standing position.

Knees weak, her body facing Ray, Jessica looked over her shoulder at the dresser mirror that was across from them. She gave a little gasp when she saw that Ray’s lap was on full display, sure that Ray had enjoyed not only spanking her but watching her face during the punishment as well. Panties and jeans around her thighs, Jessica stared at the sight of her bare bottom. The normally creamy cheeks were uniformly colored a bright red.

Standing, Ray took Jessica’s hand in his. “Now, for the kitchen. Grab your spoon, please.”

“Let me pull my pants up, first,” Jessica begged.

“No, ma’am. That bottom is going to be on display to me for the rest of the day.”

Holding in a groan and double eye roll, Jessica picked up the spoon. It seems light, she thought hopefully to herself. Shuffling along, spoon in one hand, Jessica let Ray lead her, hand in hand, into the kitchen.

Pulling out a kitchen chair, Jessica watched enviously as Ray took a comfortable seat. She was sure she would not only not be sitting the rest of the day but also sleeping on her tummy that night.

“Do you know why I chose the spoon and the kitchen?” Ray asked.

“I’m sensing a bakery theme,” Jessica answered, holding her tongue from several rude responses that crossed her mind. Looks like the spanking was already working, she thought.

“Exactly. I like to tie memories to punishments. It’s more effective when teaching the naughty girl a lesson. I want you back over my lap.” The look on Ray’s face as he spoke had Jessica melting.

Jessica handed Ray the spoon and kneeling on the floor, laid over his lap trying to imitate the positioning Ray had placed her in for the first spanking on the couch.

“Good girl,” Ray said, adjusting her hips a bit so that her bottom was perched over his thigh. Jessica’s hands pressed into the kitchen floor, balancing her upper body. “Ten licks with the wooden spoon and I want you counting.”

“Yes, sir.”

The spoon came down right on her sit spot with a loud, whack. Though thin and light, the utensil stung. Jessica counted, “One.”

Ray continued to focus his attention where her bottom met the top of her thighs, alternating sides. ‘Whack, whack, the little spoon cried. Tears flowed from Jessica’s eyes as she counted out the numbers, “Eight, nine, ten.”

As soon as the final spank landed, Ray pulled Jessica up, helping her onto his lap. When her bare, sore bottom hit the denim of his jeans, Jessica quickly hopped back up.

“No, no,” Ray said softly, guiding her back down until she was gingerly sitting on his lap. “You sit right here.”

Not one to cry, Jessica was finding relief in the post spanking tears that covered her face. Her bottom was on fire and she was feeling like a very well punished little girl. Gently, Ray rubbed Jessica’s back as she sat, pants now around her knees, on his lap.

“That’s daddy’s good girl,” Ray murmured as he continued to rub. Laying her head on Ray’s chest, Jessica melted into the size and strength of the big man. This was not a position Jessica had ever envisioned herself. To her own surprise, Jessica embraced the safe, cared for feeling that came with having a loving daddy to punish her when she was bad.

“Are you ready to go back to the bedroom?” Ray asked quietly.

“Yes, Daddy,” Jessica answered, realizing she was going to have to pay up. Carrie would be getting her five dollars.

* * *

“Thanks, Glenn.” With a tip of his hat, Wes took the mail Postmaster Glenn handed him and headed back to his truck. The feed bags were piled high in the truck bed and Wes was grateful to have just completed his last errand of the day. It had taken weeks for things to get back to normal after the wedding. Finally, back into his usual routine, Wes had enjoyed making the monthly purchases for the ranch.

In the passenger seat, Carrie was happily sipping a strawberry milkshake. Wes had promised a visit to Burger Barn to entice Carrie to make the trek to town with him. Already finished with her fries, Wes watched, chuckling from the window, as Carrie helped herself to what was left of his share.

Wes rapped his knuckles against the glass, laughing, as a startled Carrie looked up with a guilty expression. She gave a small shrug and smile, mouthing the words, “I’m hungry.”

Wes went over to the driver’s door, making a face of mock surprise when he saw what was left of the Barn Double Burger he had ordered. Looking over at his tiny wife, seated in a sea of empty wrappers, Wes asked, “Carrie, is there something you need to tell me?”

“Like what?” she replied, taking a final, loud suck on her straw. “All gone,” Carrie said sadly, placing the Styrofoam cup reverently down in the graveyard of trash.

“You seem to be eating for two lately.” Wes turned the key and headed down Main Street, back to the ranch. He could only be off his land for so long before he begun to feel the ache to return.

Carrie turned to Wes indignantly. “Weston. Are you calling me fat?” she asked, astonished.

“That’s Wes, or Daddy to you, little girl, and no, I am simply asking why my itty-bitty, little thing of a wife is suddenly eating more food than me?” Wes had meant it as a joke, but as he said the words he realized Carrie had been a bit obsessed with food lately. She had eaten enough brisket to feed three grown men at the wedding and had put away a half a pan of leftover Banana pudding the next morning.

“Bah,” Carrie said, waving her hand in Wes’ direction. “I’ve always been this hungry.”

With a shrug Wes dropped the subject, navigating the curves of the familiar roads back to the ranch.

A few moments later, Carrie asked, “Would it be a problem if I were eating for two?” while gazing out her window, her voice quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever thought about us having kids?” Wes caught Carrie sneaking a shy glimpse at him out of the corner of her eyes.

Wes’ focus was on the present, not one to spend time dwelling on the future. At first, with Carrie, Wes’ energies had been spent making her his. Then there was the renovation of the bunkhouse and planning their own wedding. That was the time when Carrie had become so ill. Wes’ only thought was of keeping Carrie alive. With the everyday running of the ranch, Wes really hadn’t had the time to think about starting a family. Or so he had told himself.

“Not really, Carrie. We have plenty of time for that. Things are just getting settled here.”

Carrie’s silence told Wes everything he needed to know. There was plenty of time, that was his truth. But his wife wanted a baby now, and that was hers.

“It’s never even crossed your mind?” Carrie asked in a small voice.

“It’s not that it had never crossed my mind, per say.” Wes shrugged, unable to express his fears. A baby had crossed Wes’ mind and he had a problem with it. A very big one. It wasn’t the idea of the actual child that bothered Wes. Whenever he pictured Carrie pregnant, it was like he was at the hospital all over again, her limp hand in his, the only response to his voice a tiny flutter of her closed eyelids. He owed his wife the full truth.

“It scares me, Carrie. The thought of you,” Wes cleared his throat to ease his breaking voice, “the thought of you in any physical danger, it tears me up inside.”

“I see,” Carrie said, softly.

“So, it’s not that I don’t want to have children with you, eventually. It’s just that I’m scared to death of the risks involved with pregnancy. I can’t come that close to losing you again, Carrie.”

“That must have been a scary time for you,” Carrie answered. “I can’t imagine how I would have felt if the tables were turned.”

“I worry that it’s not safe for you,” Wes said, gently.

“I don’t think a ruptured appendix can affect your pregnancy. And I’m all better now, Wes.” Carrie put a hand on Wes’ knee. “But I understand if you want to get a good doctor. One that will listen to your concerns. When we want to cross that bridge,” Carrie said.

Knowing his thoughts were based on fear, Wes still couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his gut. He wished he could wrap Carrie in a protective bubble, never to be in danger again. Why risk complications?

“Wes,” Carrie said in a queer voice. Wes took a quick glance over at Carrie. Her pink cheeks suddenly looked ashen. Wes’ heart raced as his mind went to the memory of his sick wife, laying in the hospital bed. Pulling the truck over into the shoulder of the road, Wes asked, “Carrie, are you okay?”

Throwing her hands in front of her mouth, Carrie mumbled behind them, “I think I’m going to be sick.” Wes quickly unlatched his safety belt, flew out of the truck, leaving his door open, and ran to Carrie’s side. As he opened the passenger side door, a great heave came from her body, releasing everything Carrie had just eaten.

The mess was all over Carrie, all over the dashboard, all over the seats of the truck. Crying, Carrie looked up at Wes. “Ugh,” Carrie groaned, “I think I ate too much Burger Barn.”

Wes silently hoped that was the case.