Maddy Barone's Blog, page 12
February 6, 2018
Tuesday Teaser 2/6/18 Gina’s Wolf Part 3
I mention weather because poor Gina is going to be quite cold for the next chapter. Again, this is very raw. I think I need to up the tension at the dinner party and make it a little more interesting. The point of the dinner party is to make sure you, the reader, detest Jon and Tanner. I wonder if I need to fill in any more info about the other ladies. They don’t have a big impact on the story, though, so I’m not sure. But the end of this section picks up the pace.
Chapter Two
Only her stepfather would throw a dinner party in a tent when the temperature had dropped below freezing. What’s more, he expected ladies to wear low cut dresses to the dinner. Gina wished for a thick shawl to drape over her bare shoulders. Not just because it was cold, but because that nasty old Brother Saul was leering at her cleavage. He was discreet about it, but Gina caught him at it. When she did, the old man just bared yellow teeth in a smile that made her want to vomit. Thank goodness he was seated across the table at her father’s right hand.
Her mother, as the ranking Mrs. Todd present, sat at the foot of the table with Fourth Mrs. Tod on her right and Fifth Mrs. Todd on her left. Gina sat between Jon and Tanner on her stepfather’s left. Her stepfather’s sister, Tamara, was next to Brother Saul. Gina liked Tammy. Too bad she had to sit next to the old man. The remaining seats were occupied by the ranking men of her stepfather’s army.
Dinner was served by young privates in dress uniforms. They brought in baskets of bread, with small crocks of butter, cheese, and jellies, followed by steaming tureens of soup. One of the privates served her a bowl of soup. The warmth and the scent of it was alluring. Cream of chicken. Gina stared at the creamy broth.
Tanner leaned close. “Do you like the soup?” he asked eagerly.
She took a spoonful and almost swooned at the richness of the broth. Since the forces from Omaha had destroyed the camp’s supplies a week ago, meals had been lean. The President and his family had eaten a little better than the army, but all of them had been on short rations. Todd’s men had been combing the countryside for wild game, and augmented their hunting by collecting food from the local population. At the end of winter, no one had vast quantities of food stores left, but the army of Kansas-Missouri ruthlessly confiscated what they found. Gina hated to think she was eating food stolen from people who had worked hard for it, but she was cold and hungry, so she ate.
“Do you?” Tanner said insistently.
“Yes,” she replied truthfully. In the minefield of politics and her stepfather’s insanity, it might be the only truth she told tonight.
Tanner’s grin was smug. “It’s all from our commune.”
Gina lowered her spoon. “The soup?”
Tanner’s sigh said she was an moron. “The cream, the chickens, the eggs, and butter.”
“Oh.” Gina wasn’t sure what else to say, so she went back to eating.
From her other side, Jon offered her a thick slice of bread thickly buttered. “What my idiot brother is trying to tell you,” he said smoothly, “is that the wagons we sent to Falls City to bring provisions arrived today. You don’t need to worry about being hungry.”
“That’s good to know,” she said politely.
Tanner leaned close. “The Brotherhood knows how to work the land. We never go hungry. Our women get their fair share of the food, too.”
Gina plastered an impressed expression on her face. “How very egalitarian of you,” she said gravely.
Tanner’s prominent forehead furrowed in obvious confusion. Gina hid a smirk. She hadn’t expected him to understand words with more than two syllables.
Jon shook his head at her with a condescending smile. “Men and women are not equal. Men, who have more responsibility, occupy a higher status than women. But that is not to say women are unimportant or without worth. They are honored as mothers. That is their glory.”
“We make sure our women are given everything they need,” Tanner put in. “Even rebellious women have food and clothes after they learn how to behave. You’ll find that out next month when you come to Falls City.”
A month. Only a month of freedom before she would have to marry these smug men who thought a women’s worth was measured only by her children? Too bad there wasn’t anything hard in the soup. Gina longed to crunch down on something. She only bent her head and stared at her empty bowl. It was a subservient position the President approved of. It had the advantage of hiding her face.
“There,” said her stepfather heartily. “You will be taken good care of in Falls City. I did right to reward our allies. When those thugs from Omaha snuck into my camp and burned my supplies, they thought we would retreat in ignominious haste. But thanks to good Brother Saul and his Brotherhood, we have plenty of food to last some time. Omaha will regret attacking me.”
Gina almost looked up, but remembered in time to keep her head down. Reminding him that those thugs had also taken his women captive and forced him to agree to a nonaggression pact would be stupid. She chewed bread vigorously.
With another smirk, Tanner pinched her upper arm. His smile was scary. “You don’t want to marry into the Brotherhood, do you?” When she didn’t answer he pinched her harder. “Do you?”
She swallowed bread. “It was unexpected,” she said carefully.
“Maybe you want to run away and marry that Native werewolf.”
Colby. For a moment, she saw him in her mind’s eye, tall and broad shouldered, black hair gleaming in the sun, a stubbornly set expression on his face when he told her she belonged to him. She shrugged indifferently and buttered another slice of bread. “I barely knew him and didn’t like him.”
Tanner’s fingers reached for her arm again, ready to pinch. Her stepfather’s voice stopped him. Tanner might not have recognized that very pleasant tone, but Gina did. She froze, keeping her head bent.
“Young Tanner, my daughter has displeased me, but she is my daughter, and I expect you to treat her with the respect she deserves. Do we understand each other?”
Tanner sat back. “Yes, sir.”
Gina noted the surly tone. She was sure that as soon as they were away from her stepfather’s reach, she would be a mass of bruises. Her future as the wife of multiple misogynistic men turned her stomach. Eating the rest of the dinner seemed impossible, but she forced herself to chew and swallow the roasted venison, the creamed corn, and the dried apple pie. She would need her strength to get through whatever would come next.
After the meal, the ladies were excused so the men could put their heads together and lay their plans. Gina would have loved to linger and listen, but her mother firmly ushered her out. At least she didn’t have to put up with Tanner and Jon anymore. AS the cluster of women approached the harem tent, she turned from the other women.
“Georgina?” her mother said sternly.
“I need to use the facilities,” she said airily.
One of the guards flanking the door flap halted her. “Beg pardon, Miss Todd,” he said diffidently. “The president has instructed us to escort you wherever you want to go.”
“I’m just going to the latrine.”
“Yes, Miss. I will escort you.” Even in the starlight she could see the blush that rose to his cheeks. “You’ll need to leave your wrap here, please.”
“But it’s cold.”
The blush darkened. “Yes, Miss. President’s orders.”
I won’t be likely to run away without something to keep me warm, she thought sarcastically. “Alright. Mom, will you take my shawl?”
Her mother took the wrap with a frown. “You have a chamber pot in the tent,” she began.
“I need some fresh air.”
It really was cold. Gina hurried over the icy ground to the row of tents erected over the latrines. She wanted to escape. In fact, after dinner with Jon and Tanner, she was determined to escape. But running off with a guard hanging on her heels and without provisions or even a coat was impossible. And this young private –Carson? Carleton?—would be in big trouble if she ran away when he was guarding her. She would just be married off to a repulsive commune of misogynists; he would be executed.
She left him waiting a few respectful yards from the latrine tent and did her business as quickly as she could. When she came out of the tent she didn’t see him standing where she had left him. She glanced around, confused. On her second glance she focused on the ground, looking for tracks to show where he had gone, and that’s when she found him.
The gallant young private was a crumpled shape dark against the moonlit snow. A black shadow spilled over the snow around his head. She rushed forward. A large, dark animal sprung out of nowhere to block her path. It was a dog. No, it was a wolf. A wolf? The huge head was level with her waist. Fangs gleamed ivory in a gaping maw. Gina froze, not even breathing. There were dark streaks on the teeth. Blood? Gina finally remembered to breathe.
Her scream died in her throat. The top of the broad head had no fur, only a raw place were blood had clotted. She had seen only one wolf up close in her life. She swallowed a shuddering breath.
“Colby?” she whispered.
January 30, 2018
Tuesday Teaser 1/30/18 Gina’s Wolf Part 2
Here is the second half of Chapter One. As last time, this is raw. What you get in these Tuesday Teasers is the fast draft. In this first draft I tend to I dump info in blocks so I have it down. I go in later and break it up so the readers gets little bits here and there. But as I said, this is the raw version. Hope you can enjoy it anyway.
January 23, 2018
Tuesday Teaser 1/23/18 Gina’s Wolf Part 1
Hey, I’m sorry. I almost forgot to post this!
I have finally begun Gina’s Wolf. It picks up a week after Victoria’s Cat ends. I am not entirely happy with the beginning, but that’s not unusual. It feels a little stilted, and I’m trying a bit too hard to show what Todd is like. I also need to sprinkle in a little more back story, like why are they still camped in the west edge of Iowa and how much food do they have, and does she ever think of Colby. For me it’s better to spit the words out and then go back later and add what needs to be there. So all that was to say, “Hey, please be kind when you read this. It is very raw.”
January 17, 2018
Strong Hearts Available NOW!
From the minute big, bad Brutus Gunnison of Dallas Fire & Rescue sees Denise, he falls like a ton of bricks. She is everything the Iraq War vet has ever wanted in a woman: pretty without being frilly, with a great sense of humor and a love of dogs and baseball. Most amazing of all, she’s not afraid of him.
Denise Friedlander is busy. Between working thirty hours a week, going to school, and serving in the Texas National Guard, she doesn’t have time for a man. And after the way her father ran out on her mom the minute she got pregnant, she is careful with men. But she can’t resist Brutus. He’s not the handsomest man in Dallas, but with those muscles and tattoos, he’s the hottest. Besides, he shows the tenderness hidden under his rough exterior only to her.
But old wounds run deep and when Brutus betrays her trust, Denise walks away. Can they learn to trust again to find their happily ever after?
BUY IT HERE:
January 16, 2018
Tuesday Teaser 1/16/18
Tomorrow Strong Hearts comes out!!! I am going to post one last teaser from Brutus and Denise’s story.
Then next week I’ll begin giving you little tidbits from Gina and Colby’s story.
Young woman embracing man with naked muscular torso
Although I don’t think contemporary romance will ever be my favorite to write, I have to say I loved Brutus. He’s so big and mean looking, but he really does have a tender heart. At least for Denise, the heroine. I had a hard time deciding which pic to choose for the cover. I finally picked the one where they are embracing front to front. But I’m including the other one so you can see how gorgeous Brutus’s chest is
January 14, 2018
Strong Hearts Coming Soon!
It’s been a much colder winter this year than it has been for the past several years. Tomorrow the high is expected to be -10 F, and Tuesday it will be 1 (above zero!) and then the rest of the week we’ll be enjoying the balmy temps of our January thaw. That is to say, we might get above freezing.
The weather is cold, but Strong Hearts, my second story in Paige Tyler’s Dallas Fire & Rescue Kindle World, is hot, and it comes out on Wednesday January 17.
I had actually not planned to write this story. I wrote Brave Hearts, intending it to be a one time thing. Brutus Gunnison was the hero’s best friend, and he was supposed to have a very small role in the story. But Brutus is bigger than life. He took over and kept hogging the scenes. I had several readers ask me where they could find his story. WEll, here it is. I wrote these two out of order, since Strong Hearts takes place about seven months before Brave Hearts. Here is a little sneak peek for you:
Strong Hearts
Coming January 17, 2018
From the minute big, bad Brutus Gunnison of Dallas Fire & Rescue sees Denise, he falls like a ton of bricks. She is everything the Iraq War vet has ever wanted in a woman: pretty without being frilly, with a great sense of humor and a love of dogs and baseball. Most amazing of all, she likes him.
Denise Friedlander is busy. Between working thirty hours a week, going to school, and serving in the Texas National Guard, she doesn’t have time for a man. And after the way her father ran out on her mom the minute she got pregnant, she is careful with men. But she can’t resist Brutus. He’s not the handsomest man in Dallas, but with those muscles and tattoos, he’s the hottest. Besides, he shows the tenderness hidden under his rough exterior only to her.
But old wounds run deep and when Brutus betrays her trust, Denise walks away. Can they learn to trust again to find their happily ever after?
Read an Excerpt Here
December 12, 2017
Tuesday Teaser 12/12/17 Strong Hearts Chapter 1b
Happy Tuesday! I’m under the weather, so I’m home from work today. I’ve been doing a lot of sleeping, but I’m awake right now and decided that I should take advantage of my alertness to make a post. I plan to do my annual Stuffed Christmas Stocking giveaway soon. If you’d like to enter to win a stocking stuffed with books and swag, the entry form will arrive in my newsletter this weekend. If you don’t get my newsletter, you can sign up by filling out this form. This picture doesn’t include everything I’m giving away. There will be more books, a calendar with each month featuring one of book covers, another mug, more candy… We’ll see how much I can stuff into that stocking! This is just a quick pic I took this morning of some of the items.
December 5, 2017
Tuesday Teaser 12/5/17 Strong Hearts Chapter 1a
Well, I’ve been giving little snips from here and there in the story. I’ve decided it’s time to start at the beginning. This is unedited, so it might change a bit here and there, but I like this. This story releases on January 17 2018.
WARNING: strong language.
STRONG HEARTS
copyright by Maddy Barone
Chapter One
Brutus would have pounded that asshole into a pancake if the bouncers hadn’t stopped him. It took both to drag him off. The blood dripping from the little shit’s nose made him smile. Smiling hurt his split lip, though, so he settled for a sneer.
“That’s what you get for disrespecting the United States Marine Corps,” he said, allowing the bouncer to pull him a little further away. He knew the bouncer, Matt Martinez, was a Marine himself. “Did you hear what that little rat said?”
“No, and it doesn’t matter.” Martinez sighed. “Come on, Doc, you know what Billie said last time you got into a fight here.”
“That was three months ago!”
Brutus shot the rat who didn’t give honor where honor was due one last dirty look and followed Martinez to a stool at the end of the bar. Along the way they passed several patrons at the bar who seemed to be pretending to be deaf and blind. One caught his eye, a platinum blonde who had to have had breast implants. The Dolly Parton wannabe didn’t impress him. He plopped himself down on the bar stool Martinez pointed him to and waved for Jerry, the bartender.
Before he could order a beer, Martinez spoke. “Coffee or a coke, Doc. When your buddy gets here, you let him take you home.”
A cold spot spread in Brutus’ throat. “You’re cutting me off? It’s only ten o’clock!”
Martinez thumped a fist on his shoulder. “That’s Billie’s rule. If you fight, you leave. And you’ve had too much to drink to drive home yourself, so you just sit here and wait for your ride.”
Brutus slumped on the bar. “Who’d’ja you call?”
“Wolfe. Who else? You gonna cause any more trouble?”
“No.”
He’d drink his coffee like a good boy and let his friend take him home. Brutus rested his forehead on a fist and stared morosely into the black coffee Jerry brought him. He heard the jukebox switch to a different song, something slow and melancholy. The clack of pool balls reminded him that he’d been having a good night, downing a few beers, shooting a few games, and relaxing after a long shift at the station house. Then that little ass wipe invited him to play. He was probably twenty-one, barely legal, and thought he was a hustler. Whatever. They were playing for almost nothing, so Brutus didn’t care if he lost. Everything was cool, until that guy started talking about how useless Marines were. Things went downhill fast after that.
He tried a sip of coffee. It hurt his split lip. With careful fingers, he gingerly explored the injury. Damn. The swelling had better go down before his next shift. Three days. It should be gone by then. If not … Hopefully, Captain Stewart wouldn’t be around to notice. Brutus didn’t need another lecture from his boss. He reached for the bowl of pretzels on the bar and had to hide a wince. His ribs were sore from a right hook. That kid had some good moves, at the pool table and away from it. Brutus was going to feel this tomorrow. It was a lot like that fight he’d had back in Camp Fallujah. Or was he thinking about that fight in Camp Dreamland? Or Camp Dakota? His service days in Iraq were more than ten years ago, so it hard to keep that straight.
“Gunnison.”
Brutus jerked his head up. His partner stood there, looking down at him with a small frown. “Hey, Wolfe. You got here fast.”
“I was already out.”
That’s right, Wolfe was taking his latest piece of arm candy to a movie or something. “Damn, did this mess up your date?”
“No, Cherilyn wanted an early night. I just dropped her off.”
“Aw, too bad. So, you havta sleep alone tonight?” Brutus looked his partner up and down. Wolfe was everything Brutus was not: handsome, light on his feet, tall and muscular without being a hulk, and charming. A real chick magnet. Women went crazy for Wolfe’s pretty boy face. “Well, it has to happen to everyone sometimes, right?”
Wolfe blew out a breath and shook his head with a half-disgusted, half-affectionate smile. “Shut up. Ready to go?”
“Yeah, sure,” Brutus pushed the still full coffee cup away and lurched to his feet. He had to catch himself on the bar. Maybe he’d had more than he’d realized. He straightened and testing his walking ability. Wolfe watched him without offering to help. Yeah, his buddy understood a man’s pride. “Lead the way.”
He did okay until he tripped over the pointy toe of a sparkly high-heeled shoe and landed nose first in a bountiful cleavage. Brutus might not have the polished manners of some men, but his mama had whupped common decency into him. He jerked upright and staggered a step back.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he blurted. “Are you hurt?”
The platinum blonde gave a throaty laugh and made minute adjustments to neckline of her low-cut dress. “Why, I just don’t believe I know.”
Her accept was deep south, not Texas, and her sex kitten purr was directed at Wolfe, not him. Brutus took one long look at her and decided his buddy was welcome to her. She was beautiful but fake. Too much makeup, and too much of her body on display. Billie’s Bar & Grill was one step above a dive, and that short, sequined dress should be worn in a place where fancy cocktails were served.
He glanced at his friend to see his reaction. Wolfe, as usual, showed little. He liked living up to his Native American ancestors’ reputation for stoicism, but Brutus had known him since the old days in Iraq. Behind that coolly polite façade, his buddy was laughing his ass off.
The blonde flicked her foot. The sparkly shoe landed at Wolfe’s feet. “Why, look at that,” she cooed. “My shoe just plumb fell off.”
There was a pause in the noise as the jukebox switched songs. From the other side of the blonde came a sigh. Brutus stepped a little to the right to see who was sitting next to the blonde. For a full five seconds, his lungs forgot how to work.
This was how a woman ought to look. Brown hair pulled up in a bouncy ponytail. Blue jeans neither too baggy nor too tight, and a plaid shirt worn open over a white T-shirt. Her cleavage probably wasn’t as impressive as the blonde’s, but it had a perfect curve. He followed the long line of her leg and saw she was wearing cowboy boots. Worn out cowboy boots, not the pretty, shiny kind city cowgirls wore for show. If she was wearing makeup, Brutus couldn’t tell. Her face was pretty. Not Miss America beautiful, but pretty. Damn. She was Brutus’ prefect woman. Right now, she looked annoyed. Even that looked good on her.
“Stella, for crying out loud.” She turned on the barstool to Wolfe. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Brutus sighed. Now that she’d gotten a look at his buddy, she wouldn’t have the time of day for him.
But she remined slightly apologetic, not even blinking at Wolfe. No gasp. No staring worshipfully, no blush or smile. She took the shoe Wolfe held out to her. “Thanks,” she said briefly, and thrust it at the blonde. “Put your shoe on, Stella,” she said in a furious whisper.
“Relax, Sissie.” The blonde pouted and turned slipping her shoe on into a languorous tease. If she wasn’t careful, those tits were going to pop right out of her dress. The pouty smiles and bedroom eyes were directed at Wolfe. The ponytail girl sighed again. Wolfe didn’t respond except to punch a light fist into Brutus’ bicep. “Ready to go?” he asked.
Brutus couldn’t resist one last look at the pretty brown-haired girl. Her eyes, large and blue, looked at him with a hint of disapproval. His back went up.
“What are you looking at?” he demanded.
Her cool blue eyes ran up him, and then down him. “Nothing much,” she said, turning back to the bar.
“Ouch,” murmured Wolfe, hidden laughter in his voice. Probably no one else heard it, but Brutus did. “Come on, buddy.”
Outside, the air was hot and laden with humidity. Normal for Dallas on the first day of September even at ten at night. Brutus took a lungful of the thick air in before climbing in Wolfe’s pick up.
“Man, did you see her?” Brutus sighed happily. “If I dream about her tonight I’ll be a happy man.”
Wolfe drove out of the parking lot. He stopped at a red light and raised a dubious eyebrow. “I didn’t think she was your type.”
“What? You kidding?” Brutus closed his eyes and remembered the sweet curve of breasts against a white T-shirt half covered by a western style shirt. “She’s exactly my type. Such perfect tits.”
The light turned green and Wolfe stepped on the gas. “Yeah, I guess they were pretty spectacular. Big enough to fill even your hands.”
Brutus’ eyes popped open. “I’m not talking about the blonde!”
“Oh?”
“No. The little brunette gal sitting next to her. The cute one who looked like an actual person.”
“Oh,” Wolfe said with a note of comprehension. “Sure, she was pretty. Looked nice, too. Someone you could really talk to.”
The truth of that hit Brutus’ drunken mind like a sledgehammer. The blonde looked like a man hunter, the kind you took to bed and that was all. The brunette looked like the kind you took home to meet mom. A girl like that wouldn’t want anything to do with a big brute like him.
Wolfe must have misunderstood his silence, because he went hastily on. “I don’t know that blonde lady. For all I know, she’d be great to talk to. We shouldn’t judge someone by the way they dress.”
Brutus snorted. “Right. We should judge by the way they act. I’ll bet my next paycheck that blonde wished you’d have been the one to trip and land on her tits. Her shoe fell off right in front of you, and that didn’t happen on its own.”
“Thank God your little brunette saved me from having to put it back on the blonde’s foot.”
His little brunette. Brutus reveled in the sound of that. “Yeah. Lucky you.”
Wolfe pulled his pickup into the short driveway in front of Brutus’ house. “Look, give me a call in the morning and I’ll give you a ride back to your truck.” He turned to study him, eyebrows pulling low. “You’ve been partying a lot lately, even when we have back to back shifts. You okay?”
That Indian had always been a little too perceptive. “Geez, Wolfe, you want to talk about our feelings now?”
His buddy snorted a laugh. “Get out of here. See you tomorrow.”
Brutus unlocked the front door and tossed his keys on the table in the front hall in time to catch his dog, Rowdy. The brown mutt was big and mean looking, but loyal and even loving with the right person. Just like him.
“We’re a lot alike, boy,” he whispered, scratching behind the floppy ears. “One thing is different, though. You had your balls cut off, but the lady dogs still like you. I still have mine, but the ladies don’t like me.”
With that happy thought, he went to bed.
Tuesday Teaser 12/5/17 Strong Hearts Chapter 1
Well, I’ve been giving little snips from here and there in the story. I’ve decided it’s time to start at the beginning. This is unedited, so it might change a bit here and there, but I like this. This story releases on January 17 2018.
WARNING: strong language.
STRONG HEARTS
copyright by Maddy Barone
Chapter One
Brutus would have pounded that asshole into a pancake if the bouncers hadn’t stopped him. It took both to drag him off. The blood dripping from the little shit’s nose made him smile. Smiling hurt his split lip, though, so he settled for a sneer.
“That’s what you get for disrespecting the United States Marine Corps,” he said, allowing the bouncer to pull him a little further away. He knew the bouncer, Matt Martinez, was a Marine himself. “Did you hear what that little rat said?”
“No, and it doesn’t matter.” Martinez sighed. “Come on, Doc, you know what Billie said last time you got into a fight here.”
“That was three months ago!”
Brutus shot the rat who didn’t give honor where honor was due one last dirty look and followed Martinez to a stool at the end of the bar. Along the way they passed several patrons at the bar who seemed to be pretending to be deaf and blind. One caught his eye, a platinum blonde who had to have had breast implants. The Dolly Parton wannabe didn’t impress him. He plopped himself down on the bar stool Martinez pointed him to and waved for Jerry, the bartender.
Before he could order a beer, Martinez spoke. “Coffee or a coke, Doc. When your buddy gets here, you let him take you home.”
A cold spot spread in Brutus’ throat. “You’re cutting me off? It’s only ten o’clock!”
Martinez thumped a fist on his shoulder. “That’s Billie’s rule. If you fight, you leave. And you’ve had too much to drink to drive home yourself, so you just sit here and wait for your ride.”
Brutus slumped on the bar. “Who’d’ja you call?”
“Wolfe. Who else? You gonna cause any more trouble?”
“No.”
He’d drink his coffee like a good boy and let his friend take him home. Brutus rested his forehead on a fist and stared morosely into the black coffee Jerry brought him. He heard the jukebox switch to a different song, something slow and melancholy. The clack of pool balls reminded him that he’d been having a good night, downing a few beers, shooting a few games, and relaxing after a long shift at the station house. Then that little ass wipe invited him to play. He was probably twenty-one, barely legal, and thought he was a hustler. Whatever. They were playing for almost nothing, so Brutus didn’t care if he lost. Everything was cool, until that guy started talking about how useless Marines were. Things went downhill fast after that.
He tried a sip of coffee. It hurt his split lip. With careful fingers, he gingerly explored the injury. Damn. The swelling had better go down before his next shift. Three days. It should be gone by then. If not … Hopefully, Captain Stewart wouldn’t be around to notice. Brutus didn’t need another lecture from his boss. He reached for the bowl of pretzels on the bar and had to hide a wince. His ribs were sore from a right hook. That kid had some good moves, at the pool table and away from it. Brutus was going to feel this tomorrow. It was a lot like that fight he’d had back in Camp Fallujah. Or was he thinking about that fight in Camp Dreamland? Or Camp Dakota? His service days in Iraq were more than ten years ago, so it hard to keep that straight.
“Gunnison.”
Brutus jerked his head up. His partner stood there, looking down at him with a small frown. “Hey, Wolfe. You got here fast.”
“I was already out.”
That’s right, Wolfe was taking his latest piece of arm candy to a movie or something. “Damn, did this mess up your date?”
“No, Cherilyn wanted an early night. I just dropped her off.”
“Aw, too bad. So, you havta sleep alone tonight?” Brutus looked his partner up and down. Wolfe was everything Brutus was not: handsome, light on his feet, tall and muscular without being a hulk, and charming. A real chick magnet. Women went crazy for Wolfe’s pretty boy face. “Well, it has to happen to everyone sometimes, right?”
Wolfe blew out a breath and shook his head with a half-disgusted, half-affectionate smile. “Shut up. Ready to go?”
“Yeah, sure,” Brutus pushed the still full coffee cup away and lurched to his feet. He had to catch himself on the bar. Maybe he’d had more than he’d realized. He straightened and testing his walking ability. Wolfe watched him without offering to help. Yeah, his buddy understood a man’s pride. “Lead the way.”
He did okay until he tripped over the pointy toe of a sparkly high-heeled shoe and landed nose first in a bountiful cleavage. Brutus might not have the polished manners of some men, but his mama had whupped common decency into him. He jerked upright and staggered a step back.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he blurted. “Are you hurt?”
The platinum blonde gave a throaty laugh and made minute adjustments to neckline of her low-cut dress. “Why, I just don’t believe I know.”
Her accept was deep south, not Texas, and her sex kitten purr was directed at Wolfe, not him. Brutus took one long look at her and decided his buddy was welcome to her. She was beautiful but fake. Too much makeup, and too much of her body on display. Billie’s Bar & Grill was one step above a dive, and that short, sequined dress should be worn in a place where fancy cocktails were served.
He glanced at his friend to see his reaction. Wolfe, as usual, showed little. He liked living up to his Native American ancestors’ reputation for stoicism, but Brutus had known him since the old days in Iraq. Behind that coolly polite façade, his buddy was laughing his ass off.
The blonde flicked her foot. The sparkly shoe landed at Wolfe’s feet. “Why, look at that,” she cooed. “My shoe just plumb fell off.”
There was a pause in the noise as the jukebox switched songs. From the other side of the blonde came a sigh. Brutus stepped a little to the right to see who was sitting next to the blonde. For a full five seconds, his lungs forgot how to work.
This was how a woman ought to look. Brown hair pulled up in a bouncy ponytail. Blue jeans neither too baggy nor too tight, and a plaid shirt worn open over a white T-shirt. Her cleavage probably wasn’t as impressive as the blonde’s, but it had a perfect curve. He followed the long line of her leg and saw she was wearing cowboy boots. Worn out cowboy boots, not the pretty, shiny kind city cowgirls wore for show. If she was wearing makeup, Brutus couldn’t tell. Her face was pretty. Not Miss America beautiful, but pretty. Damn. She was Brutus’ prefect woman. Right now, she looked annoyed. Even that looked good on her.
“Stella, for crying out loud.” She turned on the barstool to Wolfe. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Brutus sighed. Now that she’d gotten a look at his buddy, she wouldn’t have the time of day for him.
But she remined slightly apologetic, not even blinking at Wolfe. No gasp. No staring worshipfully, no blush or smile. She took the shoe Wolfe held out to her. “Thanks,” she said briefly, and thrust it at the blonde. “Put your shoe on, Stella,” she said in a furious whisper.
“Relax, Sissie.” The blonde pouted and turned slipping her shoe on into a languorous tease. If she wasn’t careful, those tits were going to pop right out of her dress. The pouty smiles and bedroom eyes were directed at Wolfe. The ponytail girl sighed again. Wolfe didn’t respond except to punch a light fist into Brutus’ bicep. “Ready to go?” he asked.
Brutus couldn’t resist one last look at the pretty brown-haired girl. Her eyes, large and blue, looked at him with a hint of disapproval. His back went up.
“What are you looking at?” he demanded.
Her cool blue eyes ran up him, and then down him. “Nothing much,” she said, turning back to the bar.
“Ouch,” murmured Wolfe, hidden laughter in his voice. Probably no one else heard it, but Brutus did. “Come on, buddy.”
Outside, the air was hot and laden with humidity. Normal for Dallas on the first day of September even at ten at night. Brutus took a lungful of the thick air in before climbing in Wolfe’s pick up.
“Man, did you see her?” Brutus sighed happily. “If I dream about her tonight I’ll be a happy man.”
Wolfe drove out of the parking lot. He stopped at a red light and raised a dubious eyebrow. “I didn’t think she was your type.”
“What? You kidding?” Brutus closed his eyes and remembered the sweet curve of breasts against a white T-shirt half covered by a western style shirt. “She’s exactly my type. Such perfect tits.”
The light turned green and Wolfe stepped on the gas. “Yeah, I guess they were pretty spectacular. Big enough to fill even your hands.”
Brutus’ eyes popped open. “I’m not talking about the blonde!”
“Oh?”
“No. The little brunette gal sitting next to her. The cute one who looked like an actual person.”
“Oh,” Wolfe said with a note of comprehension. “Sure, she was pretty. Looked nice, too. Someone you could really talk to.”
The truth of that hit Brutus’ drunken mind like a sledgehammer. The blonde looked like a man hunter, the kind you took to bed and that was all. The brunette looked like the kind you took home to meet mom. A girl like that wouldn’t want anything to do with a big brute like him.
Wolfe must have misunderstood his silence, because he went hastily on. “I don’t know that blonde lady. For all I know, she’d be great to talk to. We shouldn’t judge someone by the way they dress.”
Brutus snorted. “Right. We should judge by the way they act. I’ll bet my next paycheck that blonde wished you’d have been the one to trip and land on her tits. Her shoe fell off right in front of you, and that didn’t happen on its own.”
“Thank God your little brunette saved me from having to put it back on the blonde’s foot.”
His little brunette. Brutus reveled in the sound of that. “Yeah. Lucky you.”
Wolfe pulled his pickup into the short driveway in front of Brutus’ house. “Look, give me a call in the morning and I’ll give you a ride back to your truck.” He turned to study him, eyebrows pulling low. “You’ve been partying a lot lately, even when we have back to back shifts. You okay?”
That Indian had always been a little too perceptive. “Geez, Wolfe, you want to talk about our feelings now?”
His buddy snorted a laugh. “Get out of here. See you tomorrow.”
Brutus unlocked the front door and tossed his keys on the table in the front hall in time to catch his dog, Rowdy. The brown mutt was big and mean looking, but loyal and even loving with the right person. Just like him.
“We’re a lot alike, boy,” he whispered, scratching behind the floppy ears. “One thing is different, though. You had your balls cut off, but the lady dogs still like you. I still have mine, but the ladies don’t like me.”
With that happy thought, he went to bed.
November 28, 2017
Tuesday Teaser 11/28/17 Strong Hearts
Here is another little snip from my current work in progress. I feel like I’m really making progress on this one. And I really, really love Brutus and Denise.
The great thing about Billie’s Bar and Grill was that no one ever dressed up. Denise, wearing jeans covered with dog hair stuck to the dog slobber embedded in the denim, pushed opened the door, and stepped to one side. She paused there for a moment to let her eyes adjust. After the bright sun, she was nearly blind in the lower light in the bar. The delicious smell of greasy burgers hit her nose and woke a growl in her stomach. The clack of pool balls and the whoop of men told her at least one game was in progress. She might head back that way later, but for now she wanted a beer, a burger, and some information. All of those could be found at the bar. She made her way through a scatter of tables and parked her butt on a tall stool.
Billie herself was working the bar and she greeted Denise with a nod and something close to a smile. For Billie, that was a warm welcome. The bar owner was a trim fifty-something with short salt and pepper hair and a brisk, no nonsense manner. Even if Denise hadn’t known it, she would have guessed Billie was retired military. Billie had put in her twenty-five in the Marine Corps, and was now enjoying retirement as the owner of a neighborhood bar. Military and ex-military were always welcome here.
“Hey, Chickie,” she called as Denise hooked the heels of her boots over the bottom rung of the stool. “What’ll it be?”
“Beer and a burger basket,” Denise replied. “You know how I like it.”
Billie hollered the order to the back where her husband, Big Joe, manned the grill. She grabbed a longneck out of the case and placed in on the bar in front of Denise. “We haven’t seen you in here for a couple of months. What have you been up to?”
“Just the usual. Work, school, and more work.” She downed a swallow and let it roll, fizzing, down her throat. “That’s good.”
Billie nodded. “Nothing like a cold beer on a hot day. So, what’s up with you and what’s-his-face? That sailor you were seeing last year.”
Denise drank some more. “That’s done. He wanted me to spend more time with him, but you know.” She shrugged wryly. “Work, school, and more work.”
Billie didn’t say any of the usual sympathetic words, just nodded. “When will you be done with school?”
“This is my last year. God willing and the crick don’t rise, I’ll graduate in the spring.”
“You will.” Billie sounded sure. “You work harder than anyone. That’s just who you are.”
Another patron down the bar waved for Billie’s attention. Alone, Denise nursed her beer. The big, flat screen TV mounted in the corner showed a baseball game. The Rangers were down by one in the bottom of the eighth. She hadn’t been to a single game this summer. She loved baseball. Why hadn’t she made the time before school started?
“Hey, sweet cheeks.”
She turned to see Dale, one of the regulars, slide onto the stool beside hers. “Hey, Dale. You do know that anyone else who called me sweet cheeks would regret it, right?”
He laughed and raised a finger to catch Billie’s eye. Billie nodded and went to the cooler. Dale turned to grin at Denise. “I know, but you like my wife too much to hurt me.”
That was true. Dale might act like a flirt, but he was a safe flirt. He was utterly devoted to Marilyn, and had been for the last twenty years. “You’re lucky to have her.”
The creases that age and sun had put on his face shifted in a small, soft smile. “Don’t I know it.” The smile grew. “I saw you here last night, with some high stepping looker.”
“My sister,” she confirmed. “She’s moving to Dallas from Mississippi. She’ll be staying with me for a little while until she finds a job.”
Billie joined them and gave Dale his beer. “Yeah, I heard you were here last night with a woman in a cocktail dress.” Billie shook her head. “A cocktail dress,” she repeated, in something between disgust and wonder.
“I know.” Denise winced. “My sister asked me to take her to my favorite place to hang and get a drink. I guess she meant a club.”
Dale hooted with laughter, and Billie chuckled.
“I don’t go to clubs.” Denise waved her arms around to indicate her surroundings “When I want to go out for a drink, I want to go somewhere that I can relax, maybe shoot some pool or throw some darts. Somewhere like this.” Denise took another sip of her beer. “Last night was interesting. There was a fight back there.” She jerked her chin toward the back where the pool tables were. “The guy who was in it tripped over my sister on his way out.”
Billie muttered something that Denise didn’t catch. Trying to act casual, she asked, “I don’t think I’ve seen him around here before. Is he a regular?”
Billie’s expression was a mix of exasperation and fondness. “Gunnison. He’s trouble. No one you need to know.”
Denise’s mind went to armed robbery, drug dealing, and breaking kneecaps for a crime lord. “Trouble with the law?”
Billie shrugged and wiped her towel over the bar. “Not that kind of trouble. He fights. The man will fight at the drop of a hat. Hell, he’ll drop the hat himself.”
