Oopsie Daisy Read online

  Oopsie Daisy

  A Steamy Romantic Comedy

  Iris Morland

  Blue Violet Press LLC

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Enjoy this exclusive excerpt

  Also by Iris Morland

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Iris Morland

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  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.

  Cover art by Qamber Designs.

  Chapter One

  Kate

  Once upon a time, there was a girl who thought she could bang her brother-in-law’s cousin and not have it come back to haunt her.

  Oh wait, that was me. Katherine Lydia Wright, third sister of the Wright girls, the most brilliant, extraordinary, outstanding, and amazing of the three of us. My oldest sister, Mari, might be good at eyeliner and my other sister, Dani, might be good at buying potting soil on sale, but I was something else. You know those people who make you go: wow, she’s going to accomplish so many things?

  Well, no one’s really said that about me except for my parents. They also told me I could grow up to be a honey badger when I was five. But I believed I was going to accomplish things. And isn’t that what really matters?

  Anyway, here I was, pursuing my dream of becoming a genetic engineer, starting grad school at the University of Washington, when it all blew up in my face.

  Basically if you think of what happens when you light a match near gasoline, that’d be an accurate representation of my life at the moment.

  Here’s a scene: me, a few weeks before my grad program officially started. I was meeting with my advisor that afternoon about my classes and my research goals. My particular type of research centered around modifying genes to create a biofuel that was like gasoline—wait, do you care about this?

  You want to know about the cousin thing.

  Patience, my friend. I’m getting there.

  So here I am, about to knock on the door of my advisor’s office. When I saw that he didn’t have a nameplate, I realized I hadn’t taken the time to look him up at all. Stupid me. I needed to do that when I got home.

  I heard a muffled voice say come in, and I did. I saw a man with jet-black hair sitting at his computer, his face hidden by the wide screen.

  Something in my stomach bounced. I called it my inner “uh-oh” voice, the same voice that liked to tell me that I should maybe not have put frogs in my sisters’ beds because I ended up with frogs in my bed afterward.

  “Have a seat,” my advisor said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  I sat down. I placed my bag on my lap, but it tumbled from my grip when my advisor finally revealed his face.

  Oh.

  My.

  Fucking.

  God.

  Lochlann. It was Lochlann. The man I’d had a one-night stand with three months ago. In Ireland.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. I’d had torrid sex with my advisor. I’d lost my virginity to my advisor.

  Seeing his sharp features, his jet-black hair, that sensual mouth—it all came back to me in a rush. I’d never, ever forget that night.

  But based on the way he was looking at me, he’d forgotten me already.

  “Ms. Wright? You dropped your bag,” he said coolly.

  I looked at my bag, its contents having scattered near my feet. “Huh,” was my brilliant reply.

  “Are you all right?” he said a little more gently.

  I bent down and began to toss my things into my bag—my phone with its eggplant emoji case, my feather pens because they were ridiculous, my keychains with one of my favorite science pickup lines. I wish I was adenine, then I could get paired with U.

  He didn’t remember me. He didn’t remember me. I felt—relieved? Offended? Had I been that boring of a lay? God, how humiliating. Here I’d been, dreaming of him all summer, and he probably hadn’t remembered my name the next morning. Even though we’d both been in my sister Mari and his cousin Liam’s wedding.

  Talk about awkward.

  I stuffed my hands under my butt to hide their shaking. This only made my legs shake and I almost shook myself off the chair.

  “Um, I’m Kate,” I finally said, sticking out my hand. “You can call me that, too. No one calls me Miss Wright. Besides, I prefer Ms. anyway. I’m not married, although why should it matter? It’s dumb. Men are just mister, no matter what.”

  I clapped my mouth shut, a hot blush staining my cheeks. Lochlann took my hand in his firm grip, and fuck me if I didn’t have a mini-orgasm right then.

  “Dr. Gallagher, nice to meet you.” He sat back in his chair and sifted through the small handful of papers currently sitting on his desk. “I apologize for the mess. I was only recently given this office, but the previous occupant took all of the file cabinets and folders.”

  He put on a pair of reading glasses, which only seemed to emphasize his handsomeness. I also had to bite back an awkward giggle, because who called four pieces of a paper a “mess”?

  But no, who cared about papers. More importantly, how had I not known that Liam’s cousin was a professor in my field? Or that he was living and working in Seattle now? When I’d asked Mari about Lochlann back in June, she’d said he worked in Dublin doing something “nerdy.”

  Thanks a lot, Mari, I thought wryly.

  “Oh, yes, I remember now. You’re researching biofuels, which would make perfect sense as that is also my area of research.”

  My ears perked despite the situation. Talk nerdy to me, Lochlann, I thought with a shiver. And in that Irish accent? Swoon. He was going to have to mop me up after this, because I was already melting into a swooning-girl puddle.

  “Your schedule looks good, although I’d encourage you to take more outside your specific field,” said Lochlann—no, Dr. Gallagher, I had to think of him as that from now. He was my advisor.

  “I didn’t want to overload my schedule with too many different types of classes, I guess.”

  Dr. Gallagher took off his reading glasses, and I almost sighed. “I’d like you to expand beyond your specific interests. It’d also look good if you plan to apply for an internship over the summer.”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  “Excellent.” He leaned back in his office chair, cool as an Irish cucumber. Or an Irish potato—except he was hot, so he was a very hot potato—

  “Miss Wright, did you hear me?”

  Me being me, I blurted, “Nope. Not one word.”

  Most people would’ve smiled, or rolled their eyes and huff-laughed. I tend to get people to do that, even when they find me annoying. It’s a gift.

  Apparently Dr. Gallagher was immune to me. Except in the sex department, o
r the memory department.

  “Please pay attention,” he said. “I don’t have time to repeat myself.”

  “You seem very busy.” I glanced at the four pieces of paper on his desk with a raised eyebrow. Okay, maybe I’d miscounted: there looked to be all of five documents. Damn, this guy sure was slammed with work.

  Again, he didn’t react. Was he made of stone? What had happened to the charmer who’d charmed my panties right off of me three months ago? Maybe Dr. Gallagher was impersonating his secret twin brother and the man sitting before me was, in fact, someone else.

  Except when I looked at his wrist, I saw that scar, about two inches long, that I’d asked him about. Get in a fight with a rosebush? I’d joked.

  Worse, he’d said wryly. A very angry and overheated container of fuel.

  Right then, he saw me looking at the scar and moved his hands so I could no longer see it.

  His gaze then flicked over me, and if I weren’t imagining things I almost could’ve thought he did recognize me. It wasn’t like we’d fucked without ever turning on the lights. I’d gotten a good look at him—head, chest, dick, legs. Ass, or arse, as he called it. And he’d done the same for me (except for looking at my dick, obviously).

  But that gaze flicker of his disappeared so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it. Was I hoping for something that wasn’t there?

  Does it matter? He’s your advisor. Like this can go anywhere. Don’t be totally stupid, Kate. Or even stupider than you’ve already been.

  To be slightly fair, I didn’t know he’d end up being my advisor.

  The combination of being miffed and irritated with his arrogance made the reckless side of me come out to play. Which meant that the uh-oh voice rang alarm bells in my head. It jumped up and down. It said, Kate, don’t do it. Don’t do the thing.

  “I most definitely don’t have time for cheeky grad students,” he said, steepling his fingers.

  “Didn’t you see that bit on my CV? ‘Cheeky girl, can be bribed with snacks.’” Sitting up straighter, I added, “Speaking of running out of time—I’m meeting someone, so I can’t stay much longer. My boyfriend, actually. He doesn’t like when I keep him waiting.”

  Lochlann turned back to his computer. I hadn’t imagined that heated look he’d given me. He recognized me, the dick.

  Kate, he can’t exactly bring it up. Come on.

  He doesn’t have to act like he doesn’t know me, I countered.

  “If you have any more questions, please email me,” said Lochlann.

  I was dismissed.

  You know that feeling you get when you’re so pissed your brain goes dark and words are suddenly just coming out of your mouth?

  “My boyfriend, his name is Steve. He’s a grad student, too. He’s really smart. Like, he could win a Nobel Prize smart.”

  “Fascinating,” said Lochlann. “Is he in the materials program as well?”

  “No, he studies—” I struggled to think of a suitably cool and amazing thing to study that would make Lochlann jealous. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the keychain I’d bought at the zoo a year ago: a wind-up flamingo that flapped its wings. “The mating habits of native Washington flamingos.”

  At that, Lochlann finally looked at me. “Flamingos? I wasn’t aware they were native to the Pacific Northwest.”

  “Oh, there’s a huge population in Forks,” I said, naming the town made famous by the Twilight franchise. “They’re everywhere. A real nuisance. They’re basically like geese except they’re pink. Super aggressive. Never approach a flamingo from behind.”

  “Fascinating,” drawled Lochlann.

  “But Steve—my boyfriend—he also plays football. He’s so good at it. He works out every day and he can hit the ball so far. It’s amazing.” I knew I was digging my hole deeper, but my mouth just kept moving despite the uh-oh voice screaming in my mind to stop.

  “Really? What position does he play?”

  Shit. I didn’t know anything about football because it had always seemed boring and stupid to me.

  “You probably wouldn’t know, since I’m talking about American football,” I said breezily.

  “I’m aware, Miss Wright. What position?”

  Sweat dripped down my spine. I couldn’t think of one position besides the one that came tumbling out: “The ball toucher.”

  “The ball toucher,” repeated Lochlann, skepticism lacing his voice.

  “Touching balls—it’s very important.”

  Was that a bit of a smile on his lips, or was Lochlann just twitchy? “I can’t say that I disagree with that statement.”

  Okay, I needed to get the hell out of here. Grabbing my things, I said hurriedly, “I’ll call you. No, email. I don’t have your phone number. Why would I have your phone number?” I laughed, but it came out as a croak.

  “Have a lovely rest of your day, Miss Wright. Be sure not to get into any fights with a flamingo.”

  Oh my God, I’m so fucked.

  Chapter Two

  Lochlann

  Christ, I was fucked.

  The second Miss Wright shut my office door behind her, I slumped into my office chair and groaned.

  What were the odds that one of my grad students would be the same woman I’d slept with three months ago?

  A woman who I later discovered was my cousin’s new sister-in-law, not just one of the bride’s friends. Luckily, Liam hadn’t found out. And I wasn’t about to tell him. He’d rip off my bollocks and throw them into the Pacific Ocean.

  So I’d done what any self-respecting man trying to preserve his bollocks would do: I’d acted like I hadn’t recognized her.

  That night in June, when I’d found Kate drinking alone in an Irish pub, I’d been like a moth attracted to a flame. She’d been so vibrant, so unconcerned with what other people thought of her. She’d mimicked my accent, and it had been such a bad impersonation that I’d almost choked from laughter.

  I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.

  But I’d known then it had just been for sex. Hot, quick, dirty sex. No regrets there—Kate had given as good as she’d got. And when she’d gone back to the States a day after the wedding, that had been that.

  Apparently not. She was like a bad penny I couldn’t shake. Also a penny that blathered when it got nervous. Had she been like that back in Ireland? Because this Kate wasn’t the confident woman I’d been instantly attracted to. She’d seemed so…young.

  And that made me feel like such a damn creep. I reminded myself that she was old enough to be admitted to a graduate program. It wasn’t as if I’d had sex with a high school student.

  Let’s stop that train of thought before we get arrested. God knows Americans love to throw people in jail.

  I sighed. Should I ask Kate to be assigned to another professor? But what reason would I give?

  We fucked each other’s brains out a few months ago. It won’t happen again. But it’s a little awkward now. You get what I mean?

  “Knock, knock,” said a voice before my door was opened. Dr. Elizabeth Martin, one of my new colleagues in the department, stepped inside, her brown pumps clicking against the floor. “We’re all going for drinks. Did you want to join us? We’re going to a place that has some great Irish food.”

  Doubtful, I thought, missing the greasy pub food from back home fiercely. “I have more work to do,” I said. Seeing Dr. Martin’s disappointed expression, I added, “Sorry.”

  Americans were so bloody sensitive. Tell one no, you were busy, and they were liable to burst into tears.

  “Come on, take a break. The quarter hasn’t even started yet.” Dr. Martin sat down on the edge of my desk, crossing her tanned legs, her skirt short enough to reveal a bit of thigh. “You don’t want to overwork yourself already.”

  I could hear the flirtatious note in her voice. Were all American women out to torment me?

  Stop complaining, ye gobshite.

  I could hear the voice of my dad in my mind, and I had to bite back a s
mile. He’d always been the traditionally Irish father: cursing you, even when he was offering praise. I’d had to learn through trial and error that most people didn’t enjoy being insulted when you were trying to give them encouragement or advice.

  Dr. Martin’s skirt seemed to inch up her thigh of its own volition. Sneaky, that skirt.

  Of course, it made me think of a different skirt on a different dress, in a different country and with a different woman. I could almost hear Kate’s moans as I kissed down her spine, licking at the small of her back and kissing the faint constellation of freckles there.

  I had to shift because my trousers were getting tight.

  “See, you’re already working,” said Dr. Martin. She crossed her ankles and somehow managed to push her breasts together. The buttons on her blouse would burst off her shirt like shrapnel if she weren’t careful. “You definitely need a break.”

  “I need to get this done.”

  She frowned but was undeterred. “I was surprised the department assigned you the one female student. I was so sure they would’ve given her to me.”

  You and me both, I thought darkly. “Our research coincides more than yours does,” I said frankly, because it was true. Although she was researching genetic engineering, I’d learned at the recent staff meeting that her focus was on agriculture.

  “Just don’t get yourself in trouble,” she said suddenly.

  I looked up sharply, but Dr. Martin just laughed.

  “I’m kidding. You seem totally aboveboard, Professor.” She snagged a Post-it from my desk and scribbled on it. “Here’s my number if you change your mind about drinks. See you later.”