Jean C. Joachim's Blog: Stories of Love and Passion, page 16

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SHOE"

   Welcome! The word prompt this week is "shoe". Since Trunk's story is about to be published, I'm writing about the next hero in the First & Ten series, Harley Brennan, Running Back. This is a scene between Harley and his old flame, Shyla Hollings. They rode to L.A. on the same plane and are staying at the same hotel. The scene takes place in his room.

   In his frustration at not being able to find another "woman of his dreams", he's consented to go on the program, "Marriage Minded". But before he gives up completely and opens himself up to meeting someone else, he makes one more play for Shyla.
*************
“You and your crazy schemes.” She shook her head.“What do you mean ‘crazy schemes’?”“How quickly you forget the scheme to sneak into the pool at the hotel in Costa Rica?”“I wanted a midnight swim.”“You wanted to go skinny dipping at three a.m. and have sex in the pool.”
“Seeing you naked made me horny.”“And we got caught. Flood lights. Alarms.” She laughed as color flooded her face.“You were even more beautiful in the floodlights.” He brushed her hair back from her face.“I could’ve killed you.”“But you fell for me, instead.”“Yeah.” Her face got the glow he’d seen so many times before. The one that told him she loved him. He eased her closer and kissed her. She responded, opening for him and he angled his head to deepen the kiss. “Shyla, honey, it’s you that I want,” he whispered into her hair. She hugged him, then let go. “Let’s not go down that road again. Nothing’s changed. You’re still playing football, I’m still traveling all the time. You broke my heart once. I can’t do it again.” Shy pushed off the bed and stood up on wobbly legs. 
The heel of her shoe broke. Harley caught her, held her against his chest for a moment, then let her go.“Don’t forget why you’re here. To find the love of your life.”“Or a woman who’s at least in the same city I am.”“That might help.” She smiled. He walked her to her room. They kissed goodnight and he returned to his suite. There was a basket of fruit and flowers in the living room. He flipped on the TV, ordered room service and grabbed an apple. Sleep was the farthest thing from his mind.
BACK TO TUESDAY TALES TO MY WEBSITE

TUFFER'S CHRISTMAS WISH - PART FOUR

Here is the final part to the story. 


Tuffer awoke to the smell of pancakes and coffee. He threw on a robe and dashed down the stairs. His mother was singing along to the radio while she whipped up hot cakes. After pleasant greetings, the young man sat down to devour two stacks, a mug of coffee, and one of hot chocolate. A knock startled him. Who was at their door at nine on the day after Christmas? He peered around the corner of the arch to the kitchen. Lexie stood outside.
He turned the latch. “Hi. What are you doing here?”“Can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”“Sure, sure. I’m sorry. Come in. Have some hot chocolate.” He silently blessed his parents for remaining in the kitchen.“You left your sweater at the house. It’s cold. You might need it.”“Thank you. You came all this way just to bring me the sweater?”“No. I came to return this.” She thrust the box with the bracelet into his hand. Her eyes filled, but she blinked back the tears.“Keep it. I bought it for you. I want you to have it.”“I can’t keep an expensive gift from a guy who doesn’t want to be with me.”“It’s not you. I don’t fit in.”“I don’t care if you’re like my father and Jo. Do you like being with me?” He stepped closer, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. “I love being with you,” he whispered. Then, he put the package back in her palm. “Please keep this. I want you to have it.” He plaited his fingers through her dark blonde hair.She rested her cheek on his chest. “I like being with you too. I have to get back. Dad’s making his world famous chocolate chip pancakes .”“You’re going to keep the bracelet, aren’t you?”“Are we going to keep seeing each other?”“I hope so. I was an asshole. I’m sorry.”“Then, yes.”He leaned down to kiss her then pointed straight up. “Mistletoe.”She giggled, zipped up her coat, and was gone.Later that afternoon, Ralph bundled his wife into their new car. Tuffer stood at the edge of the driveway and waved. His heart weighed heavy to see them leave. He counted them among his many blessings.
* * * *
Sunday’s game was in Nebraska. They were playing the Huskers. Before game time, Tuff spotted Rusty Fowler take his seat. The man stared at him, making looking away neigh unto impossible. They made eye contact. Rusty smiled, nodded, and raised his hand in greeting.Tuffer nodded back. His mother had reminded him that it was Christmas and forgiveness was in the air. Relieved of his curiosity about his real dad, Tuffer had calmed down. He had agreed with Bev that Rusty had lost something he could never regain—Tuffer’s childhood.His mother’s words had dissolved the hatred that had burned in him. Rusty had missed out on a lifetime with his son, but Tuffer had had a dad who was there, night after night, day after day, who cared for him and loved him.
So, why not acknowledge Rusty Fowler? What harm would it do to speak to him? “Best to let go of the anger and feel sorry for the man,” Tuff’s mom had said.With peace in his heart, the linebacker trotted out to the line of scrimmage to play the game he loved, with a nod toward the man who had, perhaps, given him the skill to be a star.

**THE END**
Merry Christmas, may you all receive your Christmas wish this year, and every year. Thank you for reading my story. Please leave a comment as I love feedback 

TUFFER'S CHRISTMAS WISH - PART THREE

TUFFER'S CHRISTMAS WISH
PART THREE
The car cooled, waking the young footballer. The red sunset alerted him to the time. He was scheduled to be at Lexie’s house at five, and it was four thirty. He turned on the engine, blasted the heat, and pulled onto the road. How am I going to eat dinner and sing carols with Coach’s family when my guts have been kicked out? His adoptive parents were arriving at nine o’clock. Tuffer had to pull himself together.He left the vehicle by the curb and made his way up the wide, flagstone path to Coach Sebastian’s huge, seaside home. Lights blazed inside. He spied the family through the large, square picture window. Lexie was setting the table, Lyssa was playing piano, and Jo was stretched out on the sofa. They looked happy, normal.Shame at his beginnings filled his gut. A bastard son. He hesitated to join the festive group. He wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a month. Instead, he took a big, shuddering breath, stepped up, and rang the bell. The door popped open to a rush of warm air and Lexie’s smiling face. Delicate features, golden hair, perfect body.“Come in, come in, it’s cold out there,” she said, tugging on his arm.He entered the house.“What’s that?” she asked, her gaze dropping to a small shopping bag clutched tightly in his big hand.“The small box is for you. The bottle of wine for your mom. Merry Christmas.” He thrust it at her.“Come in, Demson,” Coach called from across the room. “How about trying this hot, mulled wine I made. It’ll warm you up.” Pete handed the glass mug to Tuffer.Nothing could warm me up inside.  Tuffer took a sip. “It’s good.”“See. I can do some stuff, like cooking.” “Mulled wine is far from cooking a gourmet meal, daddy,” Lexie said. “Come on, let’s do our presents.” She led the linebacker into the living room. There was a gigantic tree in the corner. Lexie rummaged through a few wrapped packages and plucked out one in red and green paper. “This is for you. You open first.”Embarrassment rose through his chest to his neck. All eyes were on him as he slowly ripped open the wrapping and lifted off the cover. Inside was a soft, green, wool sweater. He fingered the material.“The color brings out the green in your eyes,” she whispered.“It’s beautiful.” Tuffer circled her waist and drew her to him for a kiss, forgetting his coach was watching.“That’s enough, Demson.”“Your turn,” the linebacker said, releasing his girl“Okay.” She sat down, cross-legged, and tore the paper off the small box he’d handed her. She gasped as she opened it to reveal a gold bracelet with a few charms dangling. A football, a helmet, and a little man in a football uniform swung from the thick chain. It had set him back him fifteen hundred bucks. “Is this real gold?”“Yep. Eighteen carat.”“That must have cost a fortune.”“Nothing’s too good for you,” he said quietly, stealing a kiss.Lexie touched his arm. “Will you put it on for me?”After he secured it, he threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her again.“Let’s eat,” she said, offering him her hand.The dining room sideboard groaned with a sumptuous spread. There was cold shrimp with cocktail sauce, boiled lobsters, homemade biscuits, salad, and cups of steaming New England clam chowder. Tuffer hadn’t eaten a lobster before. His family had never had money for such extravagance. He had no idea how to approach the red beast. “Uh, Lex, I’ve never had lobster before.”She patted his hand. “Don’t worry. It’s easy.”They filled their plates from the buffet and sat down at the table. Dinner was one scrumptious dish after another. They finished up with a German chocolate cake and homemade Christmas cookies. He was stuffed.“Let’s go for a walk,” Lexie suggested.They bundled up, and she led him to the sea, not far from her house. They joined hands and strolled through the sand, listening to the waves.He couldn’t get the meeting with Rusty out of his mind. Tuffer had never thought of himself as a bastard before.“Are you okay? You’ve been so quiet,” she asked, raising her voice to be heard above the tide.“Weird day.”“How so?”“You have such a nice life. So normal. Mine isn’t like that. It’s messy.”“Mine’s messier than you know.”“Sure, sure.”“No, really.”“You eat lobster. This was my first time. You live in a mansion. I grew up in a small house. Your parents are big, important people. Mine run a nursery school. I’m not sophisticated like you are Lexie. I don’t belong here.”They headed back to Coach’s place.“That doesn’t matter.”“It matters to me. I’m an idiot around you and your family. I don’t belong.” He glanced at his watch. “My parents are arriving in half an hour. I need to go.”Once inside, Tuffer thanked the coach, his wife, and Lyssa. Lexie walked him to his car.“You need to find someone from your class. I’ll never fit in. You’ll get tired of being with a guy who doesn’t know how to eat a lobster or which fork to use. You’re sweet. I like you. But I’m not in your league.”“Tuffer Demson! You have some nerve dumping me on Christmas Eve!” Her eyes flashed then teared up.He put an arm around her. “I’m not dumping you. You can do better than me, that’s all.”“Go to hell!” She shoved him off and flounced into the house, slamming the door. He buckled his seatbelt and turned the car toward home.I don’t belong with those people. I’m just the bastard son of a pro football has-been. I need to stick to my own.
****

His depression deepened as he drove by house after house, lit up in jewel tones of red, green, and blue. Some places had flashing lights, some had steady. The little town of Monroe put on a beautiful show at the holidays. Snowmen in front yards wore warm, winter scarves, and silver and blue Christmas trees were visible in living rooms on street after street.He’d expected the decorations and music on the radio to cheer him up, but it didn’t. He’d finally gotten his wish, the one he’d had year after year. And how did it turn out? Badly. He climbed the stairs to his place about a mile from downtown. Once inside, he tidied up. The work made him feel a little better. He couldn’t wait for his folks to arrive. He missed them. They were proud of his achievements and came to all the home games they could. They lived outside of Kingston, New York, it was a bit of a trip.

The buzzer sounded. Bev threw herself in his arms, hugging him. Ralph shook his son’s hand then embraced him. Tuffer lugged in the ham his mom had cooked at home, the side dishes she always prepared, and a tin of her homemade cookies. Packages were placed under his small tree.They were full of news of friends back home and amusing stories. Tuffer kicked back with a beer and munched on cookies while he listened. He shared his football war stories from away games and his tussle with his first lobster.“Never had a lobster. Was it worth it?” his dad asked, opening a brew.“It was okay,” Tuffer lied. Actually, he’d loved it. “You’re not missing anything.” No way could Ralph Demson afford the fancy dish.The room filled with laughter and warmth as they heated up the meal his mother had prepared and wolfed down the delicious food. They retired early. The linebacker too. It had been an exhausting day.
Christmas morning, Bev whipped up a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and leftover ham before they opened gifts.“What’s the matter?” she asked Tuffer.He tried to slough it off, but she persisted. “You can’t fool me. Something’s wrong. Come on, you know you can tell me anything.” Ralph joined them, fastening his robe over flannel pajamas. “She’s right, Tuff. You know you can’t keep anything from your mother. She’ll worm it out of you one way or another.” He chuckled.The young man cast a worried glance at his father. “I finally got my Christmas wish.”“A new bike?” his dad joked.But Bev got it right away. She gasped. “Really? You met him?”Tuffer nodded.“Who? What’s going on? What’s this about a Christmas wish?” Ralph glared at his wife.She sighed. “When he was little, he wrote to Santa, asking to meet his birth parents. After he met Shayna, there was only one wish left. To meet his biological father. We didn’t tell you, because we didn’t want to upset you.”“Your real father?” Ralph sank down on a chair in the kitchen. Bev poured a mug of coffee and placed it in front of him.“Rusty Fowler. He came to the diner yesterday while I was having breakfast with Shayna. Did you know who he was?” Tuffer asked.“No, Shayna wouldn’t say.”Tuffer watched the color drain from his father’s face.“So, what’s the word?” Ralph asked, his hand shaking slightly as he picked up his beverage.“I’m the bastard son of a washed-up pro football player.”There was silence in the room.“He gave me reasons, excuses, as to why he never got in touch. I’d actually seen him at a few college games. We called him ‘The Stalker.’ The team thought he was stalking the quarterback. I had no idea.”“Did he tell you why he disappeared?”“Some lame excuse about avoiding an expensive, public divorce.”His parents winced.“I suppose he wants to be in your life now. Pick up where he left off, or should have left off. The rotten son-of-a-bitch!” Ralph rose from his seat, color returning to his face. “Where was he when you needed him? He had plenty of dough. He could have helped out. Taken you fishing or thrown a ball with you. So, he’s gonna use his pro football days to steal my son?” Ralph paced, his voice rising, tears clouding his eyes.Tuffer jumped up and corralled his dad. He grabbed the older man’s upper arms and forced him to stand still. “That’s not gonna happen! You’re my real dad. Not him.”“You’re not gonna hang with him?”Tuffer shook his head. “I told him we have nothing to talk about.”Ralph hugged his boy.“You’ve been a great dad,” Tuffer said.Bev dabbed her eyes with a napkin.“I need a drink.” Ralph headed for the liquor cabinet. He poured brandy for all three and settled on the sofa.“What happened?” Bev asked.Tuffer took them through his encounter with Rusty Fowler. They finished their drinks, added wood and stoked the fire, and then opened presents. Tuffer got another sweater, handmade by Bev, a scarf, and gloves. Presents were modest because his parents simply didn’t have much money.He didn’t care. He didn’t need much, and now, as an NFL player, he had the money to buy whatever he wanted.“I know you didn’t have much time to shop, with practice and traveling…” his mother said.Tuffer held up his hand. “Wait!” He handed a small box to his mother. “This is for both of you.” He grinned to see the disappointed looks on their faces.Bev unwrapped the package.“New house keys? Our house keys work fine, son,” Ralph said.“No, no. Com’ere.” Tuffer ushered them to the door. He opened it and pointed. “See?”“Yeah. A car. So?”“These are the keys. That’s your new car.”“Our car? No, the blue one is ours,” Bev said, her face a mask of confusion.“Mom, Dad, I bought the Rav 4 for you. It’s my Christmas present to you.”Jaws dropped as the truth sunk in.“You did what?” Ralph’s eyebrows jerked up.“You can’t drive that old wreck. It isn’t safe. This is your new set of wheels. Come on. Let’s take a drive. Wait until you see all the stuff it has.”“You bought us an automobile? That’s so expensive.”“Don’t worry about the money, Mom. Piece of cake. I even got the heated seats.” Tuffer grabbed his coat and turned on the outside light.“I love the silver, Tuff. Great choice,” Bev said, sliding into the front passenger side while her son held the door.

They marveled at every little thing, oohing and aahing as if the vehicle was a new baby. Ralph put it in gear. They drove around the block. Tuffer’s heart swelled. This was the first time he’d had the means to give them a huge gift. They badly needed a new one, and now, they had it. Both parents hugged him hard.Bev put up a pot of coffee. They dug into her cookies again. Tuffer loved the gingerbread, molasses cookies, and chocolate pixies best. The linebacker retired early. He pulled up his comforter and smiled at the memory of his dad behind the wheel. His thoughts turned to Rusty Fowler, a man who had sacrificed nothing for his blood child. Tuffer frowned. The man had looked so pathetic, with a hangdog expression. Hatred toward the cold, selfish man who had given him life still flowed through the young man’s veins.He thought about how Rusty had missed his chance, year after year. Tuffer was twenty-three. Rusty had had twenty-three Christmases to contact the boy. But he hadn’t. Meeting face-to-face had opened the old wound. Pain flowed through him again. Now, the old man was interested in basking in his son’s limelight as a football pro.
And then, there was Lexie…
To be continued, tomorrow, Dec. 25....

        Click for PART ONE
Click for PART TWO

TUFFER'S CHRISTMAS WISH - PART TWO

TUFFER'S CHRISTMAS WISH - PART TWO
Tuffer’s heart beat so fast, he thought he was having a heart attack. “Him?” “Yep. He wanted to see you. I said ‘okay.’ You don’t have to go out there, if you don’t want to. That was the deal I made with him.”“You’ve kept in touch all these years?”She shook her head. “With that rat? Nope. But I figured you had some questions needed answers. He was easy enough to find. He’s coaching at a high school in Lincoln.”“What’s he doing here?”“Dunno. Can’t imagine what lie he came up with for his wife.”“His wife?”“He was married when I got pregnant. Hey, I’m not proud of that, but it’s the truth.”“That’s why he didn’t come forward?”Shayna nodded. “And wanted me to get rid of you. Figured Lurlene wouldn’t understand how you got here. He was probably right. Expensive, public divorce. Last thing he wanted. And he sure as hell didn’t want to marry me.”“You didn’t do it,” he muttered, more to himself than her.“Get rid of you? Hell, no! You’re my kid. I took the money from him and skipped out. Went home to my folks.”Tuffer barely heard her. This part of the story he already knew. His head wanted to run outside, but his feet seemed glued to the floor.“Don’t be afraid, Tuffer. He can’t hurt you now. You’re a grown man.”“Why did he want to see me?”She shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him. I hope you’re not mad.”“Thank you. For bringing him here.” Tuffer leaned over to kiss her cheek then pushed out of the booth and headed for the door.The man shifted his weight as Tuffer approached. What do you say to a guy you’ve never met who’s supposed to be your father? The stranger extended his hand.Looking at his face was like looking in the mirror for Tuffer. The shape of the jaw, the length of the nose, and those hazel eyes. The man’s hair was darker—“dirty blond,” they called it, dusted with a little gray. But he was about Tuffer’s height, maybe an inch shorter.“Hey, Tuffer. I’m Rusty Fowler. Your dad.”The footballer accepted the shake. The silence grew awkward.“Nice to meet you. Finally,” Tuff spat out, to fill the heavy air.“I know, it’s about time.”“You took the words right out of my mouth,” the linebacker said, narrowing his eyes at the older man.Rusty raised his palm. “Look. Before you deck me, let me explain.”Tuffer rested back on his heels for a moment.“Can we take a walk? Do you have time?”“I can give you an hour.”“That’s all I need.”The men headed for the snowy woods behind the diner. Someone had tamped down a path of hard snow that crunched under their feet. “I’ve watched you play. You’re a fine defenseman,” Rusty said.“It was you! I wondered where I’d seen you before. You’re the guy. The stalker. Who showed up at the games in college. Aren’t you?”“I didn’t make them all. Just a few. Mostly away games near Nebraska. It was hard to sneak away.”“Lying to your wife?”“You know I’m married?” Rusty’s face reddened.“Shayna told me.”“Shayna? That’s what you call her?”“I have a mom and dad. Bev and Ralph Demson.”“Oh, yeah. She told me about that.”“You’ve been in touch with her this whole time?”“No, no. Only in the last month or so. She looked me up. We’ve met a couple of times.”“Then, how did you know about me?”“I was a pro too. I’ve kept up with college football. Hell, when a player who looked just like me was breaking records as a defenseman, well, you’d have to be pretty stupid not to know you were my kid.”“I’m not your kid. Let’s get that straight. Ralph Demson is my father. You’re a complete stranger.”The man’s brow wrinkled. “True, true. I’m sorry.”The wind picked up. Tuffer popped up the collar of his coat. Jamming his hands in his pockets kept his fingers warm. Anger burst forth inside him, warming his chest.He faced Rusty. “Why did you do it? Why did you leave Shayna? Let her fend for herself? Why didn’t you help her? Or me? You must have been making a bundle. Shayna’s been scraping by for years. Do you know what she’s had to do to get along? Didn’t you feel anything for her…or me?”“Sure I did. But I was in a tough position. Being married. And I know Lurlene would never have liked the idea of me having a bastard son, or Shayna, or any of it.”“Messy, expensive divorce?” Tuffer raised his voice.Rusty blushed. “I’m ashamed to admit it. Yes.”Tuffer pushed ahead, ducking under some branches, shoving others away.“Wait! Wait. Please, let me explain.”“There’s nothing to say. You deserted us. Abandoned us. Then forced my mother, Shayna, to abandon me and live like a whore.”“I was wrong. I was selfish. I admit it. I had no idea what I was giving up.”“Now, you’d like to have a son who plays pro ball for the Kings?”Rusty nodded.Anger rose, heating Tuff’s neck all the way to his ears. “Honestly, I could kill you right here with my bare hands.”The older man stepped back, and fear flashed in his eyes for a moment.“You truly are a piece of shit. What makes you think I want anything to do with you?”“I guess you don’t.”“Got that right.” Tuffer turned around, heading back to the parking lot. “If that’s what you came all this way for, you’ve wasted your time.”“Son, please. We have so much in common—”“Don’t call me that.”“We do. We look alike. Pro ball. I can help you. Please, let me.” “And what will you tell your wife? Who will I be? A cousin? A nephew?” Tuffer spat on the ground at Rusty’s feet. “Go fuck yourself.”“I’ll tell her the truth. She’ll never leave me now.”“I don’t need your help. I have a great father. He threw a ball with me when I was a kid, taught me to ride a bike, went to bat for me with school. He helped me pick colleges and drove me around the country to interviews. He didn’t have much, but found a way to send me to football camp every summer. He made a ton of sacrifices for me. He gave me a life.”“But he can’t help you anymore. I can. I have contacts.”“I don’t give a shit about your contacts. I don’t need your help. I’m doing just fine on my own. And my dad…well, you don’t get it. He’s there for me, sick or well, rich or poor. He’s my father.”Rusty thrust a business card in Tuffer’s palm. “Here. In case you change your mind.”“I won’t. You can’t make up for everything. You wanted to have me aborted. You paid Shayna to do it.”“I know,” Rusty said, hanging his head, avoiding Tuffer’s glare. “I’m ashamed. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was stupid. Scared. I’m so sorry.”“I’m done here.” Tuffer increased his pace, unlocked his car, and jumped in. He checked his watch. Lexie Sebastian, his coach’s daughter, was expecting him to join them for an early Christmas Eve supper. He put his head down on the steering wheel and closed his eyes.A tap on his window startled him. Rusty was standing outside.Tuffer opened it. “What the hell do you want?”“Can we shake?” The older man offered his hand.“What for?”“Closure?” As Tuffer was about to press the button to close the window again, his biological father put his fingers over the glass. “Wait. One more thing.”The defenseman expelled a breath. “Go ahead.”“I got mine.”“How’s that?”“Lurlene and I had a son, but he was stillborn. She couldn’t have more children after that.”“Karma,” Tuffer said.“I always wondered if my wife would have welcomed you, then.”“You would have taken me away from the Demsons?”“You were my biological child. I had rights.”“Why didn’t you?”“I didn’t know where you were. Shayna changed her name, disappeared.”“Maybe she knew you’d try to pull a stunt like that.”“It was my right.”“You gave up any rights when you walked away.”“Have you been happy?”Tuffer nodded.“That’s all that counts, then.”“Please, don’t come back. I have a good life. I don’t need you to mess it up.”“Mind if I come to a game or two?” Rusty asked.“I can’t stop you. Just don’t bother me, or my dad.”“Okay.”Rusty nodded, but there was pain on his face.
Tuffer rolled up the window. Emotion choked him. He drove up the mountain and sat in his car, thinking. He closed his eyes and dozed.
To be continued tomorrow, Thursday, Dec. 24....

Click HERE to go back to Part One.

TUESDAY TALES - TUFFER'S CHRISTMAS WISH - PART ONE

Welcome! We're doing something different this week -- a Christmas story. I have written a brand new, complete short story, which will be posted in four parts, one on each day. The first part is here today. I hope you will return for the next three days to read the rest of the story. Tuffer Demson is a supporting character in my football romance series. This isn't a romance, it's fiction. 
TUFFER'S CHRISTMAS WISH
Part One 
Tuffer Demson, defensive linebacker for the Connecticut Kings, didn’t think he’d finally get his Christmas wish when he was twenty-three years old. He shook his head as he walked up the snowy steps to his small, rental house Christmas Eve night. Was getting the wish a good thing? Maybe, maybe not.
It all started when he met his biological mother on Christmas Eve. They broke bread once a year, during the holidays. Tuffer met her for breakfast at ten at the diner. He called her by her given name, since he didn’t remember her ever being his mom. He had someone else he had called mom for the past twenty years and he liked it that way.“Hi, Shayna,” he said, easing his six-foot-three-inch, linebacker body into the booth. “Hi, yourself,” the blonde said. She eyed him up and down. “You’re looking good. Kings must be agreeing with you.”“Yep.” These meetings were at her insistence. He could have cared less if he never saw her again. But his folks had taught him respect. Besides, it was only once a year. “What’ll ya have?” The waitress asked.   Shayna always ordered a huge amount of food –the most expensive dishes, too. A side of bacon and sausage with eggs Benedict. A large, fresh-squeezed orange juice. Maybe a sweet bun. She knew Tuffer’d pick up the check and he always did. She didn’t make much as a waitress. No one gets residuals on porno flicks, so he understood her need for a splurge –even if it was at her son’s expense.
In the beginning, he met her hoping to find out who his father was. But Shayna had vowed never to reveal his name.  “Think you’re going to the Super Bowl?” She asked, adding cream to her coffee.“We’ve got a good shot.”“You get a nice fat bonus for winning, don’t you?”He nodded and sipped his juice. “A hundred grand?”“Not quite that much.”“Buy yourself a fancy car with that kind of money.”“I don’t need a fancy car. My SUV is fine.”“Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re my kid,” she said, with a chuckle, shaking her head.“My real mother and father don’t give a shit about stuff.” Her eyes widened as if she’d been hit. “Got that right. They’re better ‘an me. I know. That’s why I left you with them. I knew it’d be better for you.”“Dumped me with them, you mean.”“We’ve been over this a hundred times. Do we have to go over it again?”The waitress brought their food. There was hardly enough room on the table for all that Shayna had ordered.“Just be honest. You dumped me because it was good for you, not for me.”“I coulda left you at the police station. I picked a nice couple. Ran a preschool, good with kids. You liked them, they liked you. Seemed like a good bet.”“Good bet for who?”“I was twenty. I wasn’t ready to be a mom.”“And Bev Demson was?”“Yeah. She told me about the car accident. That she couldn’t have kids. She was jealous I had you.”“Mom has never been jealous of anyone a day in her life.”“Yeah? Well she was jealous of me. She wanted you.” Shayna cut a piece of the eggs and muffin with her fork and put it in her mouth. Tuffer pushed around the scrambled eggs on his plate. He hated going over this again, but he refused to let her weasel out of the truth.“They used the lawsuit money to start the school. But she wanted one of her own. And you were it. It was perfect.”“Perfect for everyone except me.”“Haven’t you been happy? Bev and Ralph are great parents. A shitload better than I could’ve been.” She picked up a piece of bacon.He couldn’t deny her words. If he couldn’t have his biological parents, Bev and Ralph Demson were the next best thing. They’d given him everything, made sacrifices, never complained and treating him like a prince.
          “What about my father? Why didn’t he take me?”“I told you. We’re not talking about him.”Tuffer banged his fist on the table. The dishes jumped, the coffee sloshed over the sides of the mugs. Fear flashed across Shayna’s face. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hit you. I don’t hit women.”“Scared the fuckin’ crap outta me.”“Nice talk.”“You do it.”“I’m a guy.”“Chauvinist.”That made him laugh. Sometimes his mother said or did something that struck him as funny. He figured it must have been their biological connection. He had her blond hair, but hazel eyes. She had blue. Shayna never talked about Tuffer’s real father and it made the young man crazy.  Every year at Christmas, Tuffer wished to meet his biological dad. But it never happened, so by college, he had given up wishing. “How are Bev and Ralph?”“Fine.”“Spending Christmas with them?”“They’re coming tonight.”“Nice. You got a tree?”“My girlfriend helped decorate it.”“Girlfriend? You’re getting laid. That’s good. Big guy like you.”“Shut up, Shayna.”“Sorry, sorry. Yeah, moms don’t talk like that.”“How would you know?”“When are you going to stop torturing me for a mistake I made twenty years ago?”He cast his glance down at his plate, where he scooped up a forkful of eggs.“I’m sorry, Tuffer. I don’t know how many times I have to say it for you to believe me. I’m sorry I left you. But it would have been terrible for you to come with me. I’m glad I didn’t have an abortion, like your father wanted. Look at what a great guy you are. Successful. Nice. With a girlfriend. I’m proud of you.” Tears clouded her eyes.His heart softened. She did give him life and she did leave him with two people who are the best parents in the world. He had to give her credit for that. He took her hand. “Don’t cry. You did the best you could. Let’s not talk about it anymore.”“Fine with me.” She slipped her hand from his to wipe her eyes. The waitress refilled their coffee mugs. Shayna finished her food in silence. Tuffer pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket. “Here. Merry Christmas,” he said. Inside was a check for a thousand dollars. Once he signed with the Kings, he had money to burn. Her eyes lit up. She ripped open the envelope and smiled. “Thanks, hon. Very generous of you. I can use it. Rent’s overdue.”He finished his food and called for the check. “I’ve got something for you this year.”“Yeah? What?”  She glanced out the window, then faced him. He paid the check. “It’s outside.”“My present?”“Yep.”“Where?” He looked out the window and didn’t see anything except a couple of cars in the parking lot and a man standing next to a silver Mercedes. “That,” she pointed to the man. “That guy.”“What about him?”“He’s your father. Rusty Fowler, he played for the Nebraska Huskers.”
To be continued tomorrow...
BACK TO TUESDAY TALES
MY WEBSITE

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT - PRETTY - TRUNK'S STORY CONTINUES...

    Welcome! Thanks for coming. Trunk Mahoney's story continues. The word prompt this week is "Pretty" -- watch for our Christmas stories. 


******************
The heat from the grill was nothing compared to the heat in her body from Trunk’s news. He was like a magnet, drawing her to him for the past two years. The way his shirt pulled over his wide shoulders, his lean waist, powerful biceps, and what she guessed were tight abs, invaded her dreams at night. Of course he had a cute butt which she tried not to notice. A couple of times he’d caught her checking him out. She always had a snappy retort that made him laugh. But she saw the lusty light in his eyes and it made her shiver.She remembered the first day he came in. She’d been joking with Griff Montgomery that he never brought his attractive teammates in for a beer. Then Trunk Mahoney walked through the door and Carla couldn’t speak. Her mouth got dry. His powerful body, barely concealed in tight jeans and T-shirt coupled with his confident swagger had made her knees weak. He flashed a sexy grin and raked her body with a smoldering gaze from beautiful, light blue eyes. If he had ripped the clothing from her, she couldn’t have felt more naked. Trunk Mahoney was sex on wheels, and she wanted him, until she checked out his left hand. 
There it was, colossal mood killer–his wedding ring. Carla had locked her feelings up and swallowed the key. Her ‘no touch’ policy applied to all married men, no matter how attractive they were. And that included Al Mahoney.That’s all she needed, an affair with a married man. Like life wasn’t hard enough trying to keep the bar open and her head above water financially. Every month was a struggle. She thanked God for football season as the team filled her place several nights a week. But after the Super Bowl, a dry season for The Savage Beast set in. The men and their women scattered, along with the townsfolk who had enjoyed mingling with the team. Business was pretty much reduced from a race to a crawl. Even Betty, who played piano and sang on Friday and Saturday nights, didn’t draw a lucrative crowd. 
Carla kept her secret, cutting back on expenses, holding on to every penny when the place was hot. She gave up her apartment and lived above the bar to save money. Trunk’s rent money would be a lifesaver, even if it was only for one or two months. She’d put it away to help pay the mortgage on the building when the cash register stopped ringing.

She’d let him break through to the buddy circle in her heart, greeting him with a friendly slap on the back or a sharp insult meant in jest. They were friends –without benefits. Now he wasn’t married anymore and the barrier she had erected between them began to crack. *****************Thank you for stopping by. Now return to the talented Tuesday Tales writers. BACK TO TUESDAY TALES MY WEBSITE

GRIFF MONTGOMERY - 20 QUESTION QUIZ

Griff Montgomery, Quarterback of the Connecticut Kings, takes the 20 question quiz!


GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK20 QUESTION QUIZ     1.  Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate, or course. 
   2.     Airplane or train?      Train, I take too many planes.
   3.     Walking or driving?  Driving.
   4.     Red or Blue?              Blue, a boy color.
   5.     Country or Rock?     Rock.
   6.     Dog or cat?                 Dog. Pug to be exact. 
   7.     Lemonade or Iced Tea?  Girly drinks. Beer for me.
   8.     Vodka or Whiskey?    Whiskey. Man's drink.
   9.     Mounds or Almond Joy? What are those? Are they dirty?
           Uh, if it's body parts, mounds, for sure. *laughs*
   10.   Action movies or Thrillers? Action.
   11.   Men – brunette or blond?    Brunette, like me.
   12.   Women – brunette, blonde or redhead? Lauren's a brunette.
   13.    Steak or lobster?  Steak - man food.
   14.    French fries or Salad? Are you kidding me? Fries, definitely.
   15.    Pistachios or Peanuts?  Peanuts.
   16.    Beer or Wine? Beer, of course.
   17.    Beach or Mountains? Both.
   18.    Oatmeal or scrambled eggs? Eggs. Oatmeal is for pussies.
   19.    Sausage or Bacon? Both.
   20.    Pretty or Witty? Both - that's Lauren. Sexy, too. *laughs*.

    A bit about the book:          Two people, two tragedies, two deep, devastating secrets….  Griff Montgomery is the headline-making, heart-breaking star quarterback of the Kings – a  6’4”, 33 year old womanizer. Lauren Farraday is a beautiful young interior designer, bitterly scarred by divorce, whose life is falling apart. Though they violently oppose one another in court over her beloved pug (she thinks he’s arrogant and  conceited, and he thinks she’s a bitch on wheels), something happens....    These are the bare bones of this sizzling romance, riddled with passion -- the first in a brand new series that’ll tantalize football fans and have readers glued to every page and on the edge of their seats!    Griff looks like a super hero with his tousled, mahogany hair, dazzling smile, dark, sexy eyes, and a body  that does something indescribable to a tight pair of jeans. Though Lauren’s sworn off men forever, one look sends shivers down her spine, making her feel lonelier than ever before. Her lustrous, long hair, sparkling green eyes, and nonstop curves make his fingers tingle at the thought of touching her.     How do they deal with their cataclysmic attraction? Will they be able to drop their protective facades – his to camouflage his grief over his sister and her family, for whom he was a surrogate father, moving 3000 miles away…. And hers’ to shield her from the incalculable loss of her husband and hoped for child?
For Griff, the thought of falling in love is as foreign as toe shoes and a tutu. For Lauren, it’s like putting on cleats and a helmet and running 50 yards…. Can they, will they, risk it? 
 Buy links:

Amazon
Barnes & Noble
iTunes/Apple
Kobo

All Romance eBooks

M.S. SPENCER JOINS ME WITH MAI TAIS AND MAYHEM -- NEW BOOK!

Welcome, Meredith! Thanks for having me, Jean. Today I’d like to talk about my latest release, Mai Tais and Mayhem: Murder at Mote Marine.
Mai Tais and MayhemI Heart Publishing, 12/7/2015Contemporary romantic suspense, M/F, 2 flames, MysteryeBook 68,840 words; print 208 pp.
A bit about the book: When Tessa Diamond rescued a baby pufferfish from a hungry gull, her good deed led her into a shady world of smuggling, Russian gangsters, and coded messages, confronting murder, attempted ravishment, parrots, sea turtles and big fish, only to encounter blossoming romances at every turn, including one of her own.
Tessa Diamond, the heroine of Mai Tais and Mayhem: Murder at Mote Marine, works with the annual sea turtle nesting survey along with a motley assortment of volunteers. There are in fact several volunteer groups that patrol the 770 miles of coastline during the nesting season. Five of the seven sea turtle species live in Florida waters: the loggerhead, the leatherback, the green, the Kemp’s ridley, and the hawksbill. This year Mote Marine logged a record number of nests on Longboat Key.
Tessa is checking on a leatherback named Fred who is being rehabilitated at Mote, when she makes a grisly discovery.

 Excerpt (G): The Body
The alarm woke her at seven. Tessa threw on the Mote polo shirt and black golf skort she’d laid out the night before, grabbed the bagel and can of V8 she’d left on the counter, and shot down Gulf of Mexico Drive as the sun came up. The road for once was deserted, and she could revel in the breeze blowing her long hair over her shoulders and the scent of frangipani in the air. The soft gray sky held only a hint of the deep blue to come later, and the gulf lay becalmed by the evaporating night. She sang a country song as she drove. In her bones she knew this would be a glorious day, the first in a long time where she felt free of any guilt or sadness. If only she could whistle. If only I could carry a tune.She parked in the aquarium lot and walked across to the Goldstein Center. Pulling out the key Pilchard had given her, she let herself in by the ticket booth. Pale, blurry light seeped in through the plastic sheeted tanks to her right. She went up the stairs and around the gift shop to the dolphin pool, rattling doors as she went. All was quiet and locked. A snort came from the pool. One of the dolphins raised his head and peered at her before diving back down.Looks okay here. She checked her watch. Eight-twenty. The support staff should be arriving soon to open the gift shop and ticket counter. She walked back down the stairs. The turtle tanks lay to her right—two large shallow pools that at present held four sea turtles, one leatherback—Fred—two green turtles, and a loggerhead. She leaned over Fred’s tank. “Fred,” she called, “how are you? Feeling better?”A black mass floated at the other end of the pool. Oh dear, I hope he’s not still sick. Worried, she skirted the other tank and ducked under the gate. The mass didn’t move. “Fred?” She reached out a hand to touch his shell and instead encountered something soft and mushy. “Fred?”At that moment the overhead light flashed on. She swung around. From the hall came the voice of Henry Stillwater, the coordinator of the dolphin training program. “Who’s there?”“It’s Tessa. Tessa Diamond. I’m the volunteer. I was checking on Fred, but something’s wrong.”“What?”Tessa turned around to look into the pool again and screamed.

Buy Links:Amazon SmashwordsAllRomanceEbooks
Contacts:Blog: http://msspencertalespinner.blogspot.comORhttp://bit.ly/1aBzraTFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/msspencerromanceTwitter: www.twitter.com/msspencerauthor
GoodReads:http://www.goodreads.com/msspencer
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/msspencerauthor/

Meet My Friend, M.S. Spencer & Her Book, DEAR PHILOMENA

*************************

Dear Philomena: Love, Lust & Murder on Chincoteague IslandI Heart Book Publishing, October 12, 2015eBook, 72,000 words, Print 209 pp
Contemporary Romantic Suspense/Murder MysteryM/F, 3 flamesMy family has been going to Chincoteague and Assateague Islands since my children were little, often twice, in the spring for the mating birds, and in the fall for the migrating snow geese. A barrier island situated east of coastal Virginia, it has everything: a lovely beach, a wonderful wildlife refuge, ponies, marshes, a lighthouse, and most alluring of all, oysters.  Dagne, like me, scarfs them up at every opportunity during her year on the island. Luckily, her new beau, Refuge Manager Aidan Ellis, is happy to treat her to them.
 A bit about the book: Dagne Lonegan, aka Dear Philomena, advice columnist, hoped that spending a year on the Eastern Shore island of  Chincoteague would extinguish any feelings she had left for Jack Andrews, erstwhile lover and long-time jerk.  It’s just her luck that in her first week on the island she’s entangled in a murder.  Only she doesn’t know it.  Unfortunately, the murderer doesn’t know she doesn’t know.  Strange and dangerous things begin happening to her, disrupting her new romance with Aidan Ellis, the handsome manager of the National Wildlife Refuge.  As if that weren’t enough, Jack arrives to take charge of the murder investigation.

Will Dagne stick with the tall, cool glass of a Ranger or risk falling back into the arms of the man who broke her heart?
EXCERPT Excerpt (G): A Tall, Cool Ranger
As she leapt out of bed, someone knocked at the front door. She checked the clock. Eight. A bit early. Maybe it was the milkman. She clucked at her little joke, but took a moment to smooth her hair and flip off her fuzzy slippers. Halfway down the stairs, she peered through the glass door to see a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette. Someone new? And handsome too! Panting only slightly, she tripped on the last step and almost fell flat. Sucking in a couple of ragged breaths, she called, “Who is it?”“Miss Lonegan? It’s Aidan Ellis. I’m the Chincoteague Refuge Manager. I apologize for the early hour, but I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”Questions? Dagne zipped into the kitchen and turned the burner off before opening the door. A tall, remarkably good-looking man in the tan uniform of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service stood on the mat. His dark brown eyes flecked with cream reminded her of the Sika elk that roamed Assateague. The flat-rimmed ranger hat obscured his hair but his tanned face sported a bit of five o’clock shadow, which only served to highlight the straight Roman nose. He smiled a dazzling smile, and stuck his hand out. “Miss Lonegan?”“Yes?”“May I come in?” Dagne realized she was still holding his hand and gazing hungrily into those chocolate eyes. She shook her head to clear it.“Of course, of course.” She led the way into the living room and indicated one of the easy chairs patterned in blue ponies. She sat down on the sleep sofa, only to spring up to clear the coffee table of half-filled take-out boxes and bits of underwear, her face burning. The ranger sat quietly, hat in hand, while she bustled about trying not to stare at his large, strong hands. A full head of rich brown hair too—is there anything that isn’t gorgeous about him?“Sorry. I’ve just moved in and I haven’t had time to organize, or even grocery shop.” ***“Miss Lonegan, as I mentioned, I supervise the wildlife refuge. I don’t know whether you’ve heard, but there’s been a murder.”Dagne took a moment to pull her jaw back up and her eyes back in. “A what?”“A murder. We found the body Saturday morning. On the refuge.”“No, I had no idea. I haven’t talked to anyone yet today.” Wait a minute. When was I trapped on the Woodland Trail? “Saturday? The day before yesterday?”“Yes.” *** He stood. “Here’s my card. Since we found the body on federal property I’ll be in charge of the investigation. If you think of anything else that might be of interest don’t hesitate to give me a call. For example, if you saw or heard anything unusual.”It was on the tip of her tongue to make a flirtatious reply, but she bit it instead. Talk about inappropriate timing! But he was so gorgeous, so polite, so different from Jack. Maybe, just maybe….
 Buy Links:Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Dear-Philomena-Murder-Chincoteague-Island-ebook/dp/B016HDQDCM
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dear-philomena-ms-spencer/1122797778Createspace: https://www.createspace.com/5795202Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/584372All Romance E Books: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-dearphilomenalovelustmurderonchincoteagueisland-1905181-149.html

TUESDAY TALES = WORD PROMPT "EVIL"

Welcome! This week the word prompt is "evil". Trunk Mahoney's story continues. Thanks for stopping by. Return to the fabulous Tuesday Tales authors using the link below.  
************
“Didn’t she say anything else? Like why she was leaving or where she was going?”He shook his head. “Nope. That was it. In a text.”“A text?” Carla's eyebrows rose. “Damn, that’s cold.”“I think she’s afraid to face me. Though I don’t know why.”“You’ve got to track her down. Gotta get some answers.”“You’re telling me?” He shook his head.Carla slipped back into the kitchen and returned with a large blue cheese burger and an order of sweet potato fries.
“This is on the house, Trunk.”“No way.”“Way.”“You can’t afford to do that. You just gave those two assholes free beer to leave me alone. And now this? You keep giving food away and you’ll be out of business. I’m paying.”“We’re friends.” He shot her a longing look, before masking his expression. Her statement cut him deep. He had wished he could be so much more than friends with this beauty, wished he’d met her before he got hooked up with the evil Mary. It would never happen now. Trunk had a secret, a secret that would keep her away. He’d guessed it might be what finally drove Mary to leave him. “Business is business, Carla. You can’t afford to give food away. And I don’t want to be the cause of your closing down.”“Screw you. I’ll charge you double, then. For everyone else, $6.95, for you, fourteen bucks!”Trunk laughed. He didn’t think anything could be funny today, but Carla was and he was grateful. He bit into the juicy burger, cooked just the way he liked, and smiled. No one made food like she did. “Where you gonna live?” She asked, finishing the last of her drink.“Good question. I have no idea.”“I have a ‘sleep-it-off-room’ upstairs, down the hall from my digs, if you need it.”“Thanks. I’m bunking in with Bull and Samantha tonight.”“Barging in on the newlyweds?”“When you put it like that, maybe I shouldn’t go there. But one night won’t kill ‘em.”“Nah. Bull can keep it in his pants for once.”“Or keep it quiet,” Trunk snickered. She laughed. He finished the burger and washed it down with a healthy slug of beer. “Hey, how about this? I could rent that room from you. Just until I get a new place. Give you some more income.”“You think I need the money?” She narrowed her eyes, rested her hand on her hip.“Everybody needs more money.”“True. I could do that. How much?”“Hmm. Five hundred do it?”She swallowed and her eyes widened. “Five hundred does it just fine. I’ll take you up there after closing.”“I’ll tell Bull I’m not coming.” “There’s a bathroom across the hall, too. No kitchen, but you can use the bar kitchen.”“Works for me.” He finished the last of his beverage, stuffed two more fries into his mouth and slid off the seat. He dropped a twenty on the counter and headed for his car.

 BACK TO TUESDAY TALES HERE MY WEBSITE