Tuesday Tales – Savage – Stalled Independence

ReganWelcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is Savage.

This is quite sometime later in the (almost complete) Stalled Independence story.  Clay and Regan have been dating for a couple of weeks, known each other about a month.  Turns out that despite their very disparate backgrounds they have quite a bit in common.  

This scene involves the hero, Clay and his unscheduled (but always welcome) visitor. Calliope (aka Calli) is Clay’s sister, and she’s going to make an appearance in the Thanksgiving story and if I continue my holiday stories in 2015 (i.e. if the publisher takes them on) – she’ll have her own story then.  In the meantime, she’s a sister who’s made an unscheduled, hurried run to New York to see her brother:

A honking horn pulled Clay from his work. He wiped the grease from his hands as he withdrew his head out from under the car hood. After he’d waved off his mechanics, he headed toward the doors. Before he got there he spotted a bright white cowboy hat and blonde hair through the glass and grinned.

He threw open the door. “Calliope!”

“Hey big brother!” His sister spun around and wrapped him in a savage hug. “Damn, I missed you something fierce.”

“Missed you too, baby sis.” Clay stepped back and resumed wiping off his hands. Calliope was only ten months younger than he was, and the most fiercely independent of the bunch. Even so, a random visit near the end of May wasn’t typical for her. “So are you going to tell my why you’re really here? Or do I have to call Mama?”

“Mama doesn’t know, so it doesn’t matter if you call.” Calli patted his cheek. “And my reasons are mine.”

“Fat chance I’m letting you leave it at that.” Clay shoved his rag into his back pocket. “Let me get cleaned up while you throw your things upstairs. We’ll go have lunch.”

“I’ll take you up on the food, but not the conversation.” Calli hauled her suitcase out of the trunk. “I’d much rather hear about the girl making you all flustered.”

“You’ll get better than that. You’ll get to meet her. She’s working today.”

“Oh goody. Then be quick about it.” Calli didn’t give him another look as she traipsed up the side stairs to his apartment.

Clay shook his head and went inside to let the guys know he was heading for lunch. One of them decided to take off for lunch too, while his shop manager, Chris said he’d stay behind to finish the Ellsworth’s car. Clay made fast work of scrubbing his arms and face. On his way out, he dropped his hat on his head.

Calli was already waiting outside with a shit-eating grin already in place. “So she’s cute, what else do you know about her?”

“Why couldn’t you stay down south?” He shook his head and ignored her question, choosing instead to head to the crosswalk. “Don’t you have anything better to do than harass me? Like, oh, I don’t know—working or having a life of your own?”

She blew a large raspberry and turned her thumb down. “Both in the toilet, and no I don’t have anything better to do. I have to keep an eye on you. After all, you haven’t had a girl since that uptight girl, what was her name?”

“Casey.” Clay grumbled and rubbed the back of his neck. When he’d first come to Rochester he’d met Casey at school. They’d dated for almost four years before he’d realized she’d been sleeping around behind his back from the second he’d decided to leave RIT to buy the shop. “Why on earth bring her up?”

“To point out that your head isn’t always screwed on right when it comes to women.”

“Well that taught me a lot, and Regan is different.” He hoped.

“Well, I’ll see about that.”

“Myrtle loves her,” Clay protested. “What else can you do?”

“Myrtle’s a good gauge, but I’m your sister.” Calli dragged him across the street wen the light turned. He was beginning to regret suggesting they go to lunch.

“Be nice.”

“I always am. That’s part of my southern charm, you know. Mama didn’t raise no fools.”

“She raised you.” He laughed when she shoved him aside. “What?”

“Jerk!” She hopped up the three steps to the diner door and let herself in.

Clay followed, still chuckling as he stepped inside the diner. His amusement faded when he noticed for the first time just how crowded the diner was. So much for Calli getting to know Regan at all right then. Maybe it was just as well, it wasn’t fair to corner her at work with his sister. No one deserved that.

Calli waved him to the counter where she’d managed to snag two stools for them to sit at. She grinned and scanned the restaurant. “Well?”

“Be a little more obvious, why don’t you?” When she stood, he gripped her shoulder and pulled her back into her seat. “I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I don’t see her.”

Right as he spoke, Regan burst out from the kitchen with a large tray full of food. The way she held it blocked him from her view, but he recognized her instantly. Against his better judgment, he tracked her path all the way to the large corner booth.

“Oooh, she’s adorably scrumptious. Are you sure she plays for your team?”

“Back off, sis.” Clay was surprised at how harsh he snarled the words. “I mean, I’m sure.”

“You are smitten. So tell me about her.”

*~*

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*~*

Sunday Snippets 30 – Deep Fried Sweethearts


Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

DFS_MD

Skipping forward. Tag just caught Michaela napping at her desk. Unbeknownst to him, she was having naughty dreams of him.  However, he still has something to laugh about:

He covered his mouth with a hand while leaning against the file cabinets lining the wall.

“I’m awake,” she defended before he could even speak. “It was just a cat nap.”

“Of course you are.” His snort burst from behind his hand and he let out a good loud bark of a laugh. “You have a really cute snore.”

“I wasn’t—I…” Unfortunately, his laughter was contagious and she found herself joining him before she could form a good argument.

*No creative editing used this week. 

*~*

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Michaela O’Keefe is in over her head with her restaurant, The Midway.  Her ad for an assistant manager brings Owen “Tag” Montague to her doorstep. With an impeccable resume and dozens of letters of recommendation, she has little choice but to give him a chance. Ten years her junior, Tag sets her long-dead libido humming, but she gave up on love and her instincts on men years ago.

Tag has had a crush on his new boss since his youth, but he’s determined to prove he can do the job. Still, he can’t resist the urge to make her blush down to her toes as often as possible. He knows her rough past in life and love makes it hard to trust, and he’s wary of crossing the line he so desperately wants to.

Just when they manage to figure out how to work and play together, Michaela’s ex does all he can to destroy their budding love. When push comes to shove Michaela’s inability to give Tag the benefit of the doubt might destroy everything.

Learning to trust herself again is the hardest lesson Michaela will ever have to learn – and by the time she does, it may be too late for love.

*~*

Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!

Tuesday Tales – Lemon – Stalled Independence

ReganWelcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is to be inspired by Lemon.

I’d like to re-introduce you to Regan from my Independence Day story set in the wonderful little town of Lake Point (where Tag & Michaela live). I first introduced her months ago when her car stalled out and died…and she was rescued by a cowboy. At this point in the story Regan has managed to get herself a job and a place to stay.

She’s crushing on her rescuer, Clay, a little bit…but her past experiences hold her back. Myrtle (Tag’s aunt) is her boss…and meddling in her life as much as she does anyones:

Regan rushed into The Diner so fast she forgot to let go of the door and got yanked backwards. Her finger smarted and she cursed under her breath. “Crap, damn, ow.”

“Well there you are, sunshine.” Myrtle set two full plates down on the bar for the waiting customers. “I was getting worried about you.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Regan shook out her hand and shed her coat. “The alarm in the apartment didn’t go off.”

“How did your first night in the new place go?”

Thanks to Myrtle, Regan had found a nice, small, and furnished apartment to rent that wasn’t too expensive. Although it was someone’s finished basement, she had a front and back door, a kitchen and bathroom. Her bedroom and living room were the same room, but there was a large walk-in closet that would have been great if she still had all her clothes. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Myrtle handed Regan her apron as she passed. “You were all excited to not be sleeping in the motel. Is the apartment not comfortable?”

“No. It’s great. The bed is stupid-comfortable.” Regan tied off the apron and scanned the room. Lucky for her there weren’t a lot of customers yet. Her guilt was mildly alleviated that she hadn’t left Myrtle in the lurch.

“So?”

“Oh, right. It’s just—I’ve never stayed anywhere alone.” From living with her parents as a child, onto her roommate in the dorms her one semester in college, and then right in with Tony, she’d always lived with someone else. “I thought it was just the hotel, but I’m just not used to being alone.”

“Everything is much louder and quieter all at once that first time.” Myrtle squeezed her shoulder. “I know how it feels.”

“I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually. It’s just weird.” Weird, creepy, scary, whatever one would call it. Either way, Regan had tossed and turned all night. Without any sleep the night before, she feared she’d end up dragging her feet all shift.

“Be a dear and cut those lemons for me, would you?” Myrtle hacked away at a head of lettuce behind the counter. “And how is Clay?”

“What?” Regan stopped with the knife barely through the rind. “Why would you ask me that? I mean, what?”

Myrtle chuckled. “Sorry. Just you two seem awful chummy.”

“He’s been nice.” Regan focused on cutting the lemon. Sure, she found Clay attractive, I mean what girl wouldn’t drool over a tall, dark, and handsome cowboy straight out of a movie. One with brains, and gorgeous forest-green eyes, and…what the hell are you doing? Regan’s shoulders sagged and she focused all her attention on the lemon in front of her. That lemon was far safer than thoughts of Clay. Last thing she needed was a man. After Tony, she’d be find never even being friends with another guy.

“Regan?” Myrtle’s hand rested on her shoulder. “What is it, child?”

Myrtle’s attentions made Regan aware of the tear on her cheek.  Regan hooked her finger and wiped it away with her knuckle to avoid lemon juice anywhere near her eye. She cleared her throat and tried to come up with a good explanation. After everything, it seemed silly to miss Tony, he was the reason she’d left.

“You miss your family?”

“No.” Regan closed her eyes, cursing her frank admission. Years ago she’d given up hope of her family caring anymore. They’d disowned her when she’d left college, or rather flunked out. She sighed. “I don’t know. My head is a mess.”

“Your head? Or your heart?”

“Yes.”

“Must have been tough leaving everything.”

She hadn’t had much to leave, but it still kept her up at night. The effort it had taken to leave had been herculean. “I just don’t know if I did the right thing.”

“Sometimes the right thing to do is the hardest thing to do.” Myrtle tossed the lettuce into a bin, and started in on the carrots. “I’ve been there a few times in my life.”

Regan had little doubt Myrtle meant what she said. “I guess.”

“You happy here?”

“Here?” Regan glanced around the small, neat café. Only a few tables were full, but she already knew all their names. Despite being in New York, which she’d heard was full of rude cities and people, this place had a small town feel like where she’d lived in Illinois. “I think so. I don’t really know it that well, yet.” Why she’d made it conditional, she didn’t know. Instinct, maybe. Instinct to keep guarded.

“You know their names?” Myrtle shook her peeler toward the occupied booths.

“Yes.”

“Then you know it well enough. Lake Point is a good little town. Once you know the lie-abouts like them, you’re in.” Myrtle paused to wink before she resumed her attention to the carrots. “I think sometimes you just know in your heart when you’re home, and you can relax.”

“What if you don’t trust your heart?” Though she’d kept her words quiet, Regan could still feel Myrtle’s strong gaze on her. Heat flamed her cheeks and she gathered the cut lemons into the bucket. “I should go put these in the cooler.”

*~*

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Sunday Snippets 29 – Deep Fried Sweethearts


Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

DFS_MD

Continuing the conversation between Michaela and her friend, Eve. Still talking about Tag, of course…this is just a few lines later in the conversation.

Once again, Eve speaks first:

“He’ll work out-the boy’s good. He’s going to knock your socks clean off. Maybe the rest of your clothes too.”

Michaela laughed until she snorted. She clapped her hand over her nose and tried to settle down. “You’re terrible.”

“I know, but a girl’s gotta dream, you know. Without my imagination and my box of toys I’d have very little in the way of a sex life.”

*Tiniest bit of creative editing in place, just a wee bit to fit it into the 8

*~*

Amazon | SCP | BN | ARe | 

Michaela O’Keefe is in over her head with her restaurant, The Midway.  Her ad for an assistant manager brings Owen “Tag” Montague to her doorstep. With an impeccable resume and dozens of letters of recommendation, she has little choice but to give him a chance. Ten years her junior, Tag sets her long-dead libido humming, but she gave up on love and her instincts on men years ago.

Tag has had a crush on his new boss since his youth, but he’s determined to prove he can do the job. Still, he can’t resist the urge to make her blush down to her toes as often as possible. He knows her rough past in life and love makes it hard to trust, and he’s wary of crossing the line he so desperately wants to.

Just when they manage to figure out how to work and play together, Michaela’s ex does all he can to destroy their budding love. When push comes to shove Michaela’s inability to give Tag the benefit of the doubt might destroy everything.

Learning to trust herself again is the hardest lesson Michaela will ever have to learn – and by the time she does, it may be too late for love.

*~*

Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!

Tuesday Tales – Hug – Kat’s Story

KatWelcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is to be inspired by Hug.

I’ve gone back to Kat’s story (Still w/ the temporary title of Independent Brake).  In this scene we’ve skipped ahead quite a ways from the last scene in which she first meets Patrick Warner and suggests a liaison.  This is six months later and while they have been having their fun, they’ve also formed a good friendship and she’s just suggested which of the new tellers he should hook up with. Her other good friend, Delphine, wants to make sure her head is on straight.

But, unfortunately, one cannot live in a proper society the way Kat has for long without some consequences…and they’re about to come forth:

“I’ll never get used to that.” Delphine gathered Kat’s reports together. “You really don’t care that you are setting him on a new conquest?”

“He is my friend. If we stop that aspect of our relationship for a short time or a long one, that won’t change.” Kat shrugged. “Nothing to be jealous of.”

“Just making sure you’re still in your right mind. I don’t want you falling in love with the man out of turn.” Delphie nudged her. “Or worse, setting your sights on something like marriage.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Delphie.” Kat winked and returned to her work. She had to admit that she was surprised that even now she felt no spark of jealousy that Patrick flirted with Pearl. Then again, that was probably well-suited to her situation.

Kat tuned out the interaction several windows down and went about her business. When Patrick left a short while later, she offered him a parting wave. The rest of the afternoon passed quick enough, and she was on her way home after a parting hug to Delphine.

As she approached the boarding house, her good mood began to fail. For standing outside was Miss Crumbly, and what Kat was convinced was her own trunk and satchel. Her heart rate picked up, and she jogged the final steps to the door. “Miss Crumbly.”

“I don’t ask much of my boarders, Miss Wells.” Crumbly’s Irish accent grew thick in hier fit of temper. “But I won’t have women such as yourself sullying the good name of my boarding house.”

“Sullying? Miss Crumbly!” Katherine stepped closer. “What have I done?”

“The way you come and go at all hours of the night and day. You’ve taken up with that rake, Patrick Warner. I have heard the gossip and talk of the unseemly ways you’re carrying on.” She lifted her chin. “I won’t have my boarding house associated with such things. I gave you fair warning last week when you returned before church and dared to attend services right after. You should be ashamed.”

“I’m not ashamed.” Despite her terror at not having a place to live, Kat refused to give Crumbly the pleasure of seeing her tears. If nothing else, she was honest about not being ashamed. “I have no designs to marry, but I also have no wish to be a boring old spinster such as yourself. I’m proud of my life.”

“Then be proud of it elsewhere.” Crumbly turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

Kat wanted nothing more than to collapse right there, but she knew nosey girls were peeking out of the curtains. So instead she grabbed the handle of her trunk and her satchel, and started down the street.

Once she was far enough away to avoid being seen, she hailed a cab. Without anywhere else to go, she gave them Patrick’s address. The red hot heat of embarrassment flamed her cheeks, but she still didn’t cry.

The whole ride there, she stayed crouched down in the seat. They city passed in a dimming tableau of normality. When the carriage slowed, she sat up straight as possible, and tried to push aside her embarrassment.

She accepted the driver’s help out of the cab and strolled up the walk to the door. Before the driver had caught up to her, she knocked on the door, and forced a smile as the butler opened the door. “Hello, Loren. I know I’m not expected. Might Mr. Warner be home? I’m afraid I have a favor to ask.”

“Mr. Warner is out, but has left express word that the Misses Wells and Finney are to be let in at any time.” Loren smiled and held open the door. When the driver appeared with her trunk, to Loren’s credit, he didn’t’ even raise a brow. “Leave the trunk there, I’ll take care of it.”

Kat paid the driver, but said nothing else until he was gone, or even after.

“Would you care for tea, Miss Wells?” Loren took her elbow to guide her toward the kitchen. “While you drink, I could have Tillie draw you a bath.”

“Oh. That sounds lovely.” Kat was more than relieved Patrick had been kind enough to leave word that she and Delphie were welcome at any time. If nothing else, it eased her nerves some to know she’d been welcomed.

Without another word, Loren had her settled in a chair in the parlor, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. Though he’d disappeared from view, she could hear him giving orders to Tillie and also to Constance, the cook Kat had found for him.

Kat relaxed more, and smiled. While in most proper households the staff were to be unheard, silent, like magical creatures that did their duty with no one in proper society the wiser to their presence; Patrick had a different view. She imagined his loneliness aided in his tendency to treat his staff a mere level below family. He’d once said if he didn’t have to pay them, even that level below would be ignored in favor of treating them as equals.

Loren appeared in the doorway again. After a low bow, he gestured to the stairs. “Your supper will be ready after your bath. I’ve put your things in your usual room.”

“Thank you, Loren. That’s more than you needed to do. I’m afraid I’m just still in shock.” She rose to follow him, and fell into step beside him on the steps. “Miss Crumbly has decided she doesn’t care to have a woman of my ilk in her establishment any longer.”

“Your ilk? Miss Wells, you are of the highest class of people.”

“Ah yes, but I consort with Patrick, and rumors of my deviancy have reached her crotchety old ears.”

“Then it would seem that she does not understand kindness and decency are above all.” Loren held open the door to the washroom. “If Mr. Warner arrives before you’ve completed your bath, I will let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you.” Kat waited until the door closed before letting go of the façade. Her legs wobbled and she sank to the floor, the first tear falling. Where would she go now? Crumbly might be a bitter old woman, but she had a reach quite wide when it came to spreading word. No other boarding house would take her. While she certainly could afford to live in a hotel, it would drain her savings faster than she could replenish it.

What was it Patrick had said?  ‘Regret and loss are different things; but pain is pain’. She had no regrets, but the loss of a stable roof over her head was a heavy blow. While she didn’t fear the ruin of her reputation, she did worry about having to move on if she couldn’t find suitable lodging.

Only a handful of tears had fallen, so Kat wiped them away. Crumbly still didn’t deserve her tears, and Kat would make do. One way or another she’d be fine, just as she had been when she’d left Dominion Falls.

Back then, it had been with the simple help of Cole Mitchell. Now she had true friends. Ones that would help her out of whatever trouble she got herself into. One way or another, she had no doubt of that.

Comforted by her own train of thought, she dragged herself to her feet and stripped down for the tub. The warm water soothed away the last trembling doubts, and she closed her eyes with a deep sigh.

First she’d enjoy the soak, then supper, and then perhaps Patrick’s company. For now, the soak took her full attention. The scrumptious luxury of a midweek bath for no reason other than to relax, was a pleasure she’d been denied for so long. She wasn’t one to turn down such a treat.

The water had begun to cool around her, and she’d started contemplating getting out when the door clicked open. She smiled, not bothering to open her eyes. “Patrick.”

“Kat. What an unexpected pleasure it is to find you here, although Loren informs me, it isn’t a pleasure call.” He tapped her forehead until she opened her eyes. “Crumbly finally got up the nerve to confront you, eh?”

“Just shy of calling me a whore, but said she wouldn’t allow a woman such as myself to be associated with her upstanding establishment.”

“Took her long enough. We’ve been at it, how long now?”

“Six months, I believe.” She turned and rose. When Patrick held up a towel, she stepped out of the tub and into the enveloping warmth easily. “Unfortunately, my biggest concern now is where I will find lodging next. Crumbly might be an old biddy, but her gossipy tongue reaches far.”

“You should stay here.”

Kat’s fingers went so numb, the towel fell from her fingers before she could finish drying off. “What?”

“I have the room, you have the need. It wouldn’t matter what people said, you’d not lose the roof over your head.” He leaned against the wall.

“You can’t be serious.” She scrambled to gather the towel to finish drying off. “It’s bad enough we are friends that still enjoy the pleasure of each other, it’s too close to crossing a line. If I were to live here—well, it just wouldn’t work.”

“I think we’ve established we aren’t crossing that line.”

Kat pursed her lips and tossed her robe over her shoulders before she dared approach him. “I don’t think it’s a smart idea.”

“You should at least think it over.”

She didn’t want to admit how tempting his offer was, so she only shrugged. “I don’t know. However, I would like to stay here for a few days while I look for a new place.”

“I’ll have you convinced by morning.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I do.”

*~*

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Sunday Snippets 28 – Deep-Fried Sweethearts


Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

DFS_MD

Skipping forward. Michaela went ahead and hired Tag (as we knew she would–his references were impeccable…;) ).  After her first day on the job, she’s talking to her good friend, Eve (who will have her own story later in the year) about her first day working with Tag.

Eve speaks first:

“I just wanted to see how the first day with Tag went, you lucky dog. Side by side with Tag, must have been lovely.”

“It was distracting, not lovely.”

“We are in a mood,” Eve chuckled. “So you still like him?”

“No, I lust after him. Hard to like a child I hardly know.”

“He’s no child.”

*Tiniest bit of creative editing in place, just a wee bit to fit it into the 8

*~*

Amazon | SCP | BN | ARe | 

Michaela O’Keefe is in over her head with her restaurant, The Midway.  Her ad for an assistant manager brings Owen “Tag” Montague to her doorstep. With an impeccable resume and dozens of letters of recommendation, she has little choice but to give him a chance. Ten years her junior, Tag sets her long-dead libido humming, but she gave up on love and her instincts on men years ago.

Tag has had a crush on his new boss since his youth, but he’s determined to prove he can do the job. Still, he can’t resist the urge to make her blush down to her toes as often as possible. He knows her rough past in life and love makes it hard to trust, and he’s wary of crossing the line he so desperately wants to.

Just when they manage to figure out how to work and play together, Michaela’s ex does all he can to destroy their budding love. When push comes to shove Michaela’s inability to give Tag the benefit of the doubt might destroy everything.

Learning to trust herself again is the hardest lesson Michaela will ever have to learn – and by the time she does, it may be too late for love.

*~*

Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!