K.F. Breene's Blog, page 6
July 9, 2014
Review & GIVEAWAY: Just You by Jane Lark
GIVEAWAY BELOW
Just You by Jane Lark Reviewer: Sally Sparrow
Amazon | Goodreads
Book & Author details:
Just You by Jane Lark
(Starting Out #2)
Published by: Harper Impulse
Publication date: May 2014
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance
The morning after the New Year’s Eve before…Waking up to a new year with a killer hangover and hazy memories of a seriously hot hook-up the night before leaves Portia in an awkward situation… Did I, or didn’t I? The only way she’s going to find out is by standing up to the guy in question.
With no regrets, Justin is willing to play the gentleman and save Portia her embarrassment. Only then he gets a text saying, come over… and he’s not gonna lie – this is friends with a lot of benefits!
But no matter how good the sex is, there’s one thing Justin’s not down with: being this shallow rich girl’s dirty little secret…
I am kind of over the romance genre of books, as often they are too sappy, too silly, too fraught with ridiculous anxieties and insecurities. If romance novels portray real people, sign me up for the hermit life.
This book, however, thisbook, is a real love story. A story of two people who work together and hook up at a drunken work party. She doesn’t remember but a few snippets of the night, and hadn’t even been interested in him before then. But the more she thinks about it - the more she considers him as a man - the more she likes him. What follows is a sweet story of friendship, sex, and finally, love.
Just You is touted as an interracial love story, but honestly, it isn’t written that way. There is no obvious skin color comparison or anything like that, and I wasn’t even certain that Portia and Justin are two different races until halfway through the book. Portia and Justin are just two people who fall in love, not a white woman and a black man. They are just people.
Portia is a British society girl, raised in boarding schools and estranged from her family. Justin is an urban New York man, raised by a single mom in the ghetto. Their issues as a couple are more about their upbringings, and their personal baggage related to their early years, rather than the color of either of their skin.
What I found really refreshing was how much they each genuinely liked and admired the other person, for who they were. Social standing, bank account balances, mailing addresses, skin color - none of it actually matters, and it doesn’t matter in this story. Portia’s family judges Justin by what they see when they meet him, but she responds by telling them who he is, and how much she likes him.
There is also very little senseless chatter. The rambling mental dialogues that seem to be standard for New Adult or Young Adult romances aren’t present here. The story is mostly told in the here-and-now, which adds to my reading delight.
That isn’t to say the book is perfect, because it isn’t. There are numerous typos and the punctuation seems to be completely arbitrary. Sentences are ended with question marks, questions are ended with periods, and the commas are all over the place. These are flaws that ordinarily drive me nuts, and will usually ruin my reading experience completely. However, this time I didn’t even care. The power of the story itself overshadows any annoyance I might have normally felt by the punctuation issues. I just ignored the commas and periods, and happily read the words.
There is also a language issue. I am guessing the author is British as she uses British language for both characters even though only Portia is British. No one growing up in the Bronx is going to watch films, go to the cinema, make dinner on a cooker, get sacked, or live in a flat. They would watch a movie, go to the movies, use a stove or oven, get fired, and live in an apartment. But again, totally forgivable because the story is so lovely.
I love this book so much. It is just wonderful. It left me happy for days after I finished reading it, and I started reading it again just to regain that literary happiness.
AUTHOR BIO
Jane is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult romance and author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Novel,'The Illicit Love of a Courtesan, as well as a Kindle overall Top 25, bestselling author.She began her first historical novel at sixteen, but a life full of adversity derailed her as she lives with the restrictions of Ankylosing Spondylitis.
When she finally completed a novel it was because she was determined not to reach forty still saying, I want to write.
Now Jane is writing a Regency series as well as contemporary, new adult, stories and she is thrilled to be giving her characters life in others' imaginations at last.
You might think that Jane was inspired to write by Jane Austen, especially as she lives near Bath in the United Kingdom, but you would be wrong. Jane's favourite author is Anya Seton, and the book which drew her into the bliss of falling into historical imagination was 'Katherine' a story crafted from reality.
Jane has drawn on this inspiration to discover other real-life love stories, reading memoirs and letters to capture elements of the past, and she uses these to create more realistic plots.
'Basically I love history and I am sucker for a love story. I love the feeling of falling in love; it's wonderful being able to do it time and time again in fiction.'
Jane is also a Chartered Member of the Institute of Personnel and Development in the United Kingdom, and uses this specialist understanding of people to bring her characters to life.
Website | Twitter | Goodreads
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July 7, 2014
Surviving Love; Chapter Four
Start at the beginning of the book:
Surviving Love; Prologue
For a list of chapters, check out the summary page:
Surviving Love page
Chapter 4
Sara stood in front of her work station, her tags all lined up on one side, her money jar on the other, just as an over-organized Christie had shown her. She had on her apron, her hair and makeup screamed professional, and the first guests were sitting down to their breakfasts in the large dining room.“If a cluttered desk is the sign of a cluttered mind, what, then, is an empty desk a sign?” Florence said in a dry, snarky tone as she lumbered toward the kitchen.Christie laughed as she whisked by right behind, an armful of unopened ketchup bottles balanced in her arms. “Don’t worry about the jackass twins, they’re just pissed the chef starts today.” Christie placed the bottles in the condiment station one-by-one.“The chef? Why is he just starting now?”“Two cooks are good enough for the staff, but Dan and May bring in a chef to spruce up the menu for the guests. He’s some big shot from the city. They pay him a boatload, but the guests rave about him.”Another two people walked into the dining room, a large space fashioned after a traditional log cabin. Sara had never seen so much bare wood in her life. Beams stretched across the ceiling—whether in decoration or holding the roof up Sara couldn’t tell—a similar color as the wood slate lining the walls. A wood floor with a high gloss supported tables and chairs that literally looked like something Paul Bunyan worked up. It was all a little hokey for Sara’s taste, but if it was what the guests were after, who was she to say boo?“All right, show time!” Christie said, wiping her hands on her jeans.They were told their uniform consisted of jeans and a fitted T-shirt. All clothing items should be clean, ironed and without holes or rips, but they should sell casual in order to fit in with the décor.Fine by Sara. Jeans were exactly her speed.“Okay, dearie-dee. Go take some orders!” Christie said with a beaming smile, giving Sara a little push.Butterflies hatching in her stomach, Sara lurched toward her first table with a wooden smile. She hadn’t waited tables since she was in her early twenties. Very early twenties. She didn’t think it would be beyond her, but customer service was an art she had to reacquire.“Good morning, I’m Sara. I’ll be helping you this morning.” Sara met the woman’s eyes, a willowy damn in her late forties, then noticed the man, a graying fella about the same age. She whisked her eyes back to the woman. A waitress never wanted to pay too much attention to the man in the party unless the woman deferred to him. It had the potential to inspire jealousy.It was as stupid as it was necessary to keep everyone happy. Sara no longer questioned these things.“Hi there, honey.” The woman smiled up at her, her twang denoting the South. “This is our first trip up here and I must say, that bed was sure comfortable!”Sara smiled sweetly, in guest-pleasing mode. “I’m so glad! What did you have planned for today?”“Oh well,” the woman glanced at her close-mouthed husband, using him as a mute sounding board. “I think we might take one of those hikes y’all got. Then we’re signed up to learn how to make fire without, well, fire!”“Oh? Sounds interesting.” It didn’t, but they didn’t have to know that. “What can I get for you? Would you like some coffee?”“Well, now…” the woman pursed her lips, looking down her menu slowly. “I’ll have some coffee, yes please.” The man folded his hands on the table and smiled up at Sara.“No problem.” Sara turned her sparkling “I am here to serve you and have nothing better to do but wait” smile back on the woman. She didn’t want to repeat herself, but she had two other tables to get to and the decision to have coffee really shouldn’t take this long.“Hmmm,” the woman said, analyzing the print.“Just get a coffee, honey, so this young lady can get on her way,” the man helped pleasantly.“Well, I’m getting to it.” The woman waved her husband away testily.“Or, if you prefer, I make a mean mimosa or Bloody Mary…” Sara smiled at the next table, trying to indicate they’d only have to wait just a smidge longer. When she turned back, the woman was looking at her with slightly widened eyes.Sara had one second to feel a rush of fear, thinking she made a faux-pas of some sort, before a wicked grin lit up the woman’s face. “Yes, dear, I think that is exactly my speed. Mimosa it is!”“Great! I’ll be right back for your orders.”She visited the next two tables in a relaxed sort of bustle. She’d spent years perfecting that speed. It showed that a girl was diligent without rushing the guests. She’d carried it over into her manager position when she was in operations. It still worked like a charm.Smiling and cheery, she collected drink orders and floated back to the mini-bar near the kitchen.“You got any orders yet or what?” Ethel shouted.The chef, a graying man with a straight back, swung his gaze from a stack of clever orange peel twists and speared Ethel with a glare. She scowled right back, one spatula-clutching hand fisted on her hip.“Drink orders. Is this a beer and wine bar only? There’s vodka and champagne, right?” Sara checked over the supplies.“Limited bar, but enough to get by,” the chef said in a stodgy voice thick with command. He probably ran a large kitchen, orchestrating tickets with practice and ease. And now here he was, creating a largely boring menu—compared to what he was probably used to—and playing side-show act to a couple of jerks. He must’ve been making a ton.When Sara was finally back with her first couple orders, she heard, “Girl, you are slower than a slug moving through peanut butter!”“Florence, just take the order,” Christie yelled back as she stepped up beside Sara, two tickets clutched in her hand. She gave Sara and exasperated eye roll, to which Sara smirked. Waitresses versus cooks. She could play this game.Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the aging chef shaking his head.Her butt vibrated.With a flurry of butterflies, she couldn’t help the jubilant smile as she ducked behind the waitress station real quick and whisked out her phone. She shouldn’t have brought it—it was unprofessional and distracting—but she missed Mikey. He was exactly the same, only better. Her best friend, brother, protector, and just as important now as he ever was.Maybe more so. He was a key to the happiest times of her life, and she didn’t want one second away from him. Not one.Alas, adulthood got in the way of so much.
Text from Mikey: How goes your first day?
Glancing around the partition, she noticed one of her customers was about ready for another drink. She bent to her phone with flying fingers.
Text from Sara: surviving. what u doing?
She paused a second, wondering if he’d text back right away. Just as she was about to stuff the phone back in her jean’s pocket, her phone vibrated.
Text from Mikey: Lunch.
An image accompanied the text. She touched it, glancing back at that table, the woman now looking up for service. As Sara’s gaze turned back to the phone her breath caught. The phone held a beautiful tableau of grassy, rolling hills dusted with limitless sky so clear and blue it looked like heaven reaching down to shake hands with the people on earth. Her chest grew warm and her hands tingled. She wanted to be sitting next to Mikey taking in that beautiful scenery so bad it had just become a complex.“What are you standing around there for?” Ethel hissed. “We got people to feed!”Sighing, Sara spun around and snapped off a pic of the spatula raising bane of her existence. “This ain’t a danged photo shoot! Get to work,” Ethel badgered.
Text from Sara: this is what ive got going. joy. wish I was there.
She attached the picture and stuffed the phone in her back pocket. She felt the buzz as she made her way out to the tables, but ignored it. Pausing was one thing, but checking the phone on the floor was a no-no. Even if it wasn’t in the rules, only a dummy didn’t know that.She did speed up, though. She whisked through the floor, not having to feign a smile, and knocked out some orders and requests on light feet. At the very next opportunity, she stashed herself behind her station and dove in her pocket.
Text from Mikey: Me too. Miss you
Sara smiled as her head bent over the phone, her thumbs already moving.
Text from Sara: me too. buckle my shoeText from Mikey: Your poetry is atrociousText from Sara: big word. were u saving that one up for a special occasion?
“This ain’t a damn train station, dolly, get moving!” Ethel roared.Irritated, Sara jammed her phone back in her pocket. With a scowl for Ethel, she picked up the food in the window and scurried out to the floor. “Who are you texting?” Christie asked when Sara hustled back in to get a drink order.“Mikey. He’s hanging out in paradise while I’m here dealing with picky people and a jerk for a cook,” Sara whispered furiously.“Oooh, what’s he saying?” Christie asked excitedly. “Did you get me a date yet?”“Ew.” Sara grabbed two glasses and hurried out, another pocket buzz spurring her on. Dropping off drinks like she was on fire, she took another order with sparkling eyes and hurried back to her protective layer.
Text from Mikey: Commencing radio silence. I don’t want to get you fired. Ps jerk!
Sara chuckled and shook her head. Her head bent back over the phone.“What’s he saying?” Christie asked as she grabbed a ketchup bottle. “Seriously, this counts as flirting.”“It does not. He’s a good friend with a sense of humor. I’m still funnier, though.”
Text from Sara: ill text laterText from Mikey: Good
Smiling like an idiot, she spared a moment to wrinkle her nose at Ethel before heading back out to her customers. It felt so good to have him back in her life. She had a powerhouse in her corner, and boy did she need it. Now more than ever.
***
“How did you first day go?”Sara breathed a sigh of relaxation as she settled in next to Sam at the staff picnic table, her plate of food steaming in front of her. “Good, but long. I guess normally the main meals are at set times for the most part, but today the hours were whack since guests are arriving.”“Yeah, the first couple days take a while to get into the swing of things, but then things get more regular. When do you start your volunteering?”“Tomorrow. I’m supposed to meet Jake in the early evening.”Sam groaned. “Which task is it?”“It’s the leather conditioning one.”“Well, at least you don’t have to deal with that kid Paul, yet. He’s weird.”“Who’s weird?” Christie sat down with a wet head and a tired sigh. “Sam was saying Paul is weird.” Sara stuffed a forkful of potatoes into her mouth.“Oh yeah, way weird. But I guess he’s great with horses, so…” Christie shrugged. “You did well today, Sara. That southern couple thinks the sun shines out of your ass!”“Oh my god!” Sara shook her head. “That woman would not make up her mind. Then, when she did, she wanted another mimosa, then another fork, then something else. She didn’t ask for everything at the same time, either. It was so irritating. Although, she gave me a huge tip, so I shouldn’t complain.”“You just spent all day on your feet. You’re allowed to complain.” Christie rubbed her face.“Bernadette? Is that who you’re talking about?” Sam asked, dropping his fork. “With the mute husband?”“Her husband didn’t talk much, no. Not that he could get in a word edgewise if he tried. She yapped constantly.” Sara gingerly picked up a BBQ covered pork rib. She did not have high hopes that in a second her whole face wouldn’t be covered in the stuff.Sam spent the next few minutes filling them in on all the interruptions from Bernadette. Turned out, she didn’t think fire making was all it was cracked up to be. It was too hard, her piece of wood too prickly with too many slivers, the ground too far away from her butt… On and on until the whole class sighed with the end of the lesson.“How did Mikey take it?” Sara asked, her eyes doing a quick sweep around the staff tables. “And where are all the triangle boys?”“He has the patience of a saint.” Sam scowled into his baked potato. “I don’t know how the guy does it. He must hum songs in his head or something. He waits until the person stops complaining, then explains himself again in a patient voice. I sometimes have to step away so I don’t smack a guest upside the head!”“Where are they?” Sara repeated, wiping her sticky face on her napkin.“Most of the cowboys eat at the upper ranch house, mostly,” Christie said as she picked up her first rib, eyeing it as dubiously as Sara just had. “They deal with their tasks during the day, then have to take care of any other duties later on. They only come down here every so often.”“Hmm. Well I better—““You wanna go for a walk before bed?” Sam asked quickly, cutting Sara off.Sara and Christie both looked up in surprise. A smirk worked its way up Christie’s face. “Oh, well…” Sara cleared her throat. “Sounds great, but maybe another night? I’m exhausted from today. Not used to constant activity, you know?”Sam laughed, easy and effortless. “Of course. I forgot you don’t have any stamina.”Sara smiled in relief. “Working on it.”“Wait for me, I’ll go back with you.” Christie bounded up with a full mouth and tossed her mostly empty plate in the garbage. As they made their way into the night, Christie said quietly, “That was awkward.”“Little bit,” Sara agreed. “I’ve hinted pretty obviously that I’m all jacked up and not looking for a relationship.”“He’s probably not thinking that far ahead. After the summer ends, everyone goes home. This is a place for flings.”“Huh. Well, don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m not really into flings. Was kind of with one guy for an extended period of time. Then he dumped me, so my average isn’t looking too good.”“Probably hopes you’ll rebound.”Sara opened the door for Christie, that familiar lead weight lodging in her chest at the thought of moving on. The thought of why she had to. The image of seeing Phil walk away. Panic gripped her. “I don’t want to rebound. I don’t want to feel anything. I wish I could just cut off the emotional side and go through life like a zombie.”Christie wrapped her arm around Sara’s shoulders in a walking hug as they neared their room. “Although, I guess I’ve been doing that for the last few years,” Sara amended, the lump in her chest spreading through her body. “Kind of a waste.”“Nah,” Christie said quietly as they walked into their room so as not to wake the nightmare twins next door. “Only when you don’t learn from your mistakes are they a waste.”Sara nodded, tears springing. She shook her head and widened her eyes so no moisture leaked out. “I’m going to go for a walk.”“Are you sure?” Christie asked, pausing with her shirt halfway off. “Do you want me to come?”“No, I’m okay.” Sara grabbed a sweater and headed back toward the door. “I just need to clear my head.”“Okay, well…text if want company. And don’t go far. I don’t want you getting lost.”Sara nodded, her heart lightened that the college student had turned into the responsible adult. When she stepped outside, though, the tiny amount of joy withered away. The darkness engulfed her, smothering. The pain welled up, the rejection at being dumped for another woman frosting her heart and chewing away chunks at a time.A fizzling tingle started at her ribcage, but not the good kind when a new crush came around. She didn’t even remember what that felt like. No, this was the other kind. The sucking undertow that happened right before the wave of loss crashed down and pulled her under. A flashback pinched her heart. “Phil…but…please. We can work it out. We can fix this.” Phil’s head had titled to the side, his ice blue eyes looking down at her in comical pity. “Sara, your just not the same girl you used to be. It’s fine, though. There’s someone out there for you.” “But we’re engaged, Phil. Doesn’t that mean anything? We have so much history…”As Sara’s feet crunched along the path through the forest, pain filled her chest like black die in a clear water. “Some things just weren’t meant to be,” he’d said as he turned toward the door. “Take care.”The click of the door in the silent house sounded like a gunshot. As the emptiness settled in her heart and throughout the house, loneliness crept in. The stark, desolate landscape of her love life grew cold and secluded. Isolated. All she’d known of love had crunched her bones into a fine powder and dusted her away. Every time she went to sleep in an empty bed it reminded her of her inadequacy. In the fact that he’d walked out on her when her age was starting to show and chosen someone prettier. Someone younger. Someone better.Gulping down a sob, she emerged from the tree line and stopped. The world dropped away to an explosion of stars. Closing her eyes, she let the cool breeze dry her tear streaked face. Almost without thinking, she reached into her pocket and took out her phone. “Hello?” Mikey answered nearly immediately.“Hey.” She paused. Suddenly she had no idea what to say. How to ask for help. How to beg for everything to be okay.“You okay?” he asked quietly, hearing her thoughts.“I sought her out,” she blurted, sitting down with a thump. “I followed him to the office and waited for them after work. Just to see what he replaced me with. She was really pretty, Mikey. Gorgeous. Young twenties with a great body. I wanted to try and get him back, but there was no way to compete with that. She had everything I didn’t.”“She didn’t, Sara. Trust me, she didn’t. Where are you?”Sara dropped her head into her hand, her elbow resting on her knee. “I just… oh god, Mikey. It hurts so bad.” “Where are you, Sara?”She choked out her location, clutching the phone in a white-knuckled grip. She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, sobs wracking her body. And then he was there. Large, strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. “It’s okay, Sara. It’s okay. We’ll get through this together, okay? I’m here.”She nodded, curling up in his arms gratefully. Trying to just move on—trying to cut out the pain. To forget about being left for someone else. To resign herself to being alone.No. Not alone. She had Mikey now.Then a thought occurred to her.“What’ll happen after the summer, Mikey? You live here and I don’t. Will that be it, again?”“Of course not,” he whispered, rocking her slowly. His cheek rested beside hers, his smell enveloping her. Love and support wrapping around her. “I’ll never leave you again. I’ll follow you around forever. Even if I die, I’ll strap on some chains and chase around after you, rattling them every time you get lonely.”A giggle drifted out of the pain. “You would, too.”“Yes, I would.”“You said that to me when we were kids. When I tried to kick you out and told you I never wanted to see you again? Remember?”“Then it was out of spite, though. And yes, I do remember. And I meant it just as much then as I do now. But for a different reason.”“Same outcome,” she said, and then hiccupped.“Yes, the very same.”Sara closed her eyes and leaned more firmly into him, shutting down to minimize the pain. She rested her face against Mikey’s warm neck and relaxed, content to be held in his strong arms. Strong and safe and solid. Mikey.
The next thing she knew, she was opening her groggy eyes as she was being lowered into her bed. “What?” she asked dazedly.“Shhh, you’ll wake your roommate. You fell asleep so I thought I’d bring you back here.”“You carried me all that way?” she asked in that supreme confusion of just waking up. She reached up to him, hating the loss of his body heat. He leaned down so she could rest her palm on the side of his neck. “You’re really strong.”“I get by,” he whispered with a smile in his voice. “Goodnight, Sara. I’ll call you tomorrow and see how you are, okay?”She nodded as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Thanks, Mikey, for coming. For saving me.”His fingertips brushed her face. “I didn’t save you—I stood next to you. We’ll battle this together, Sara. You don’t have to worry about being alone anymore. Not ever again.”She nodded, fresh tears springing to her eyes. How had he known? She had her family, after all. And a few friends, however distant. She wasn’t really alone in the grand scheme of things. So how had he known the isolation she felt? “I helped shape you, Sara,” he said softly, hands tracing her jawline. “And you helped shape me. I can read you.”“You’re starting to creep me out,” she muttered with the buds of a smile.“Reading your thoughts is step one, as I recall. You finishing my sentences is step two.”“Fist fights and bloody noses are step three.” Her lips tweaked upward.“Exactly. And don’t expect me to take it easy on you.”The desire to chuckle ate away some of the pain. She closed her hand around his and squeezed. “Thank you.”“See you tomorrow.”The click of the door in the quiet room sounded like the latch on a safe, locking her inside for safe keeping until he got back. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.
*****
Sara’s six year old self stalked up the sidewalk after school with one thing in mind. She would find Mikey Frost and demand a kiss. She would not be shown up by stupid Sally Jacobson! Her little fists balled up and her face set in a scowl. He’d been avoiding her for three days because he didn’t want to give back her Nintendo GameBoy. Well, she’d get a kiss, and she’d get her GameBoy back, too. Enough was enough. It’d be a productive day if she had to stand outside his window and howl.Little legs churning, she marched right up to his house and rapped on the door. A second later his mother answered, her face staring down in puzzlement. “Sara. Where’s your mom?”“Hi Mrs. Frost. She’s at school still. She had to talk to my teacher. I have to run errands, though, so I came ahead.”A grin peeked through Mikey’s mom’s concerned face. “Run errands, huh? Well, I suppose that’s a better phrase to pick up than the ones my sons seem to. But you walked all the way home? Your mom must be worried sick.”“I’m sorry Mrs. Frost, but I had to. Can Mikey come out and play?”“Why don’t you come in. I’m sure Denise will come looking here first.”“Yes, ma’am.”“So polite,” Sara heard as she trudged through the wide open space and skittered up the stars. Mikey’s room was the last in the great hall, each boy having a room to himself in the large house. Sara didn’t even bother to knock. She pushed open the door and marched in, staring accusingly at Mikey as he sat on his bed, leaning over her GameBoy.“That’s mine! Give it back,” Sara demanded.“I’m almost on the last level! Get out.”Eyebrows climbing her forehead in the way she’d so often seen on her mom’s face, she marched right up to him and grabbed the consol.“Sara!” he screeched, trying to hang on to it. “Just let me borrow it for a couple more days. I’ve almost beat this game!”“Then you’ll just start another game. Give it back!”With a look of death, Mikey let go, smirking when Sara teetered and fell back against his dresser. “Thank you,” she said with determination. “Now kiss me.”Mikey’s jaw dropped. “What? Gross! You’re a girl.”“Mikey Frost, you get up here this instant and give me a kiss. Sally is going around telling everyone that she got a kiss from Tommy Banks. She thinks she is so cool because she’s kissing boys. I’d rather eat a slug, but her bigger sister says that only cool girls can get a boy to kiss her, so Sally is going on and on about it. I’m cool. I want a kiss.”“You’re just a kid,” Mikey said with a crinkled nose.“Do your brothers kiss girls?”Mikey’s eyebrows rumpled. They both knew his oldest brother had something of a girlfriend. They were both pretty sure there was kissing going on. Mikey looked at Sara with resolve. “Fine, but no tongue.”He stood up and walked to his closet.“Where are you going?” Sara asked in confusion, ready to tackle him if he tried to get away.“I don’t want to be by the bed. I don’t need you getting any ideas.”“We sleep together all the time.”“Yes, but that’s different. There’s no kissing involved.”Sara rolled her eyes before standing right in front of him. She angled up her face and closed her eyes.“I have to do all the work?” Mikey asked, put out.“Just kiss me for gods sakes,” she replied curtly.He bent down with puckered lips. His face bumped off of hers first, and then he pushed forward again to keep his lips connected with hers for a count of ten. He pulled away with a smack.Her eyes opened and stared up at him, assessing. “That wasn’t so bad. I didn’t mind it. Find me tomorrow near the swings and do it again. I want to see that Sally’s face when she sees.”“Only if I get your GameBoy for another week.”Sara’s fists balled and her face turned red. “A week? I just got it. You’ve had it longer than I have already! Your parents are so rich—get them to buy you one!”“My dad thinks they’re a waste of time. A week or no kiss. Deal?”“Three days,” Sara tempered, crossing her arms over her chest.“Five…”They starred at each other. Finally, with a loud sigh, Sara relented. “Fine, but I want at least fifteen seconds in front of everyone.”“Fine.” Mikey half-jogged back to the bed, game console in hand.
Sara stared after him for a minute, having gotten almost everything she wanted, and now not really sure what to do. Shrugging, she followed Mikey to the bed and sat down beside him, watching his progress with the game over his shoulder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Get a list of all the released chapters here:Surviving Love page
July 3, 2014
Bitch Face
I have a default *bitch face*.
I can walk into a grocery store, totally relaxed, minding my own business, and I’ll get a glance as someone passes…and then a double-take. And then people will shuffle out of the way. If I’m waiting in line, being patient, thinking about a book or something to pass the time, and something goes wrong, I am usually the person the checker apologizes to.
You probably think this means I am a bitch all the time, and it shows on my face. Not true! This is an inherited default face. It says, “Do not disturbe,” “Danger lurks,” “Steer clear,” and finally, “Ye be warned.” My dad loves his default bitch face. He doesn’t even have to open his mouth and he can get across his asshole-ness (which he thinks is manliness).
But me? I’m just trying to be patient. I’d rather not talk to people I don’t know (small talk is just so much work), so when I'm in public, I like nothing more than to drift into the background.Impossible—I have bitch face.
You probably think it’s my size that’s the problem, don’t you? You think I am barreling into establishments, a huge battle axe with a vendetta, and people are worried I won’t be able to stop my inertia in time to prevent me from running them over. You assume they are scared for their life based on my gigantun size, don’t you?
Well, I am 5’8”, which is pretty tall for a woman, yes. But I slouch and don’t usually wear heels. Plus, while I'm twenty pounds overweight, I have a thin frame. And I am athletic—I have a pretty good command of my body, even when falling down stairs and landing face first into my car. I only skidded one knee in that debacle, but fell about five feet. So, it’s not my size.
It’s my bitch face.
You know how some pregnant people gripe about strangers touching their stomachs? I didn’t have that problem. I was always knocking around downtown San Francisco, or taking the train, with strangers galore, and no one thought to make that reach. They thought about it—I could see it. But they had a glance at my ugly mug, and then decided against it.
That was one time in my life I was actually quite happy for the inherited look of asshole. Small talk is weird—small talk while you are touching my unborn baby? No. Just no.
Yesterday I was at the grocery store and I got so many double takes, and people shuffling out of the way, that I had to look in the mirror when I got back to my car to make sure I didn’t have make-up all over my face, or bloody nose, or a wayward sticker stuck somewhere. I looked like crap, yes I did, but the normal crap.
Then, I realized, I am now double-teaming people. Bitch face, and dark hair.
I have a reddish bitch face. My northern Euro heritage and sun damage from too many sunburns as a kid means I have a reddish hue to my face. My dark hair is designed to bleed that out and give me a better complexion.
Well, I think it also enhances bitch face.
I truly wonder how I have friends. People must think I am cracked when I smile. They see the face of a thunder storm, and then I crack a smile? Looney bin for sure.
But at least I don’t have to make small talk often. Usually only the overly chatty or socially impaired will summon the courage to talk to me. And of course I smile, and nod, and agree--I'm not rude. But the other people in line look on with barely suppressed anxiety. Will that severe-looking woman lose her shit and club this socially inept person over the head?
Literally, people, all I'm doing is being patient. That's hard for me, granted, but I won't go postal over it. Just sayin'...
Doesn't matter. Bitch face wins.
I can walk into a grocery store, totally relaxed, minding my own business, and I’ll get a glance as someone passes…and then a double-take. And then people will shuffle out of the way. If I’m waiting in line, being patient, thinking about a book or something to pass the time, and something goes wrong, I am usually the person the checker apologizes to.
You probably think this means I am a bitch all the time, and it shows on my face. Not true! This is an inherited default face. It says, “Do not disturbe,” “Danger lurks,” “Steer clear,” and finally, “Ye be warned.” My dad loves his default bitch face. He doesn’t even have to open his mouth and he can get across his asshole-ness (which he thinks is manliness).
But me? I’m just trying to be patient. I’d rather not talk to people I don’t know (small talk is just so much work), so when I'm in public, I like nothing more than to drift into the background.Impossible—I have bitch face.
You probably think it’s my size that’s the problem, don’t you? You think I am barreling into establishments, a huge battle axe with a vendetta, and people are worried I won’t be able to stop my inertia in time to prevent me from running them over. You assume they are scared for their life based on my gigantun size, don’t you?
Well, I am 5’8”, which is pretty tall for a woman, yes. But I slouch and don’t usually wear heels. Plus, while I'm twenty pounds overweight, I have a thin frame. And I am athletic—I have a pretty good command of my body, even when falling down stairs and landing face first into my car. I only skidded one knee in that debacle, but fell about five feet. So, it’s not my size.
It’s my bitch face.
You know how some pregnant people gripe about strangers touching their stomachs? I didn’t have that problem. I was always knocking around downtown San Francisco, or taking the train, with strangers galore, and no one thought to make that reach. They thought about it—I could see it. But they had a glance at my ugly mug, and then decided against it.
That was one time in my life I was actually quite happy for the inherited look of asshole. Small talk is weird—small talk while you are touching my unborn baby? No. Just no.
Yesterday I was at the grocery store and I got so many double takes, and people shuffling out of the way, that I had to look in the mirror when I got back to my car to make sure I didn’t have make-up all over my face, or bloody nose, or a wayward sticker stuck somewhere. I looked like crap, yes I did, but the normal crap.
Then, I realized, I am now double-teaming people. Bitch face, and dark hair.
I have a reddish bitch face. My northern Euro heritage and sun damage from too many sunburns as a kid means I have a reddish hue to my face. My dark hair is designed to bleed that out and give me a better complexion.
Well, I think it also enhances bitch face.
I truly wonder how I have friends. People must think I am cracked when I smile. They see the face of a thunder storm, and then I crack a smile? Looney bin for sure.
But at least I don’t have to make small talk often. Usually only the overly chatty or socially impaired will summon the courage to talk to me. And of course I smile, and nod, and agree--I'm not rude. But the other people in line look on with barely suppressed anxiety. Will that severe-looking woman lose her shit and club this socially inept person over the head?
Literally, people, all I'm doing is being patient. That's hard for me, granted, but I won't go postal over it. Just sayin'...
Doesn't matter. Bitch face wins.
July 2, 2014
Review: Go With Me by Elyssa Patrick
Go With Me by Elyssa Patrick (With Me #2)
Genre: New AdultReviewer: Sally Sparrow
I, Daphne Fox, have a few things to confess:1. I hate Nick Brady. Loathe. Abhor. Can’t stand him 95% of the time.2. That other 5%? I’m not talking about that at all.
3. People think I’m lucky for surviving the car crash. I disagree.
4. Nick is the only guy who makes my nightmares go away.
5. I won’t love him, though. Love is not worth the pain.
I, Nick Brady, have a few confessions of my own:
1. I don’t hate Daphne Fox. At all.
2. I find her scar sexy. Just like the rest of her.
3. I may be her older brother’s best friend, but that’s not going to stop me.
4. I love her.
5. And I’m going to do everything I can to have her.
***spoiler alert***
This is a very enjoyable stand alone book in a series of stand alone books. I like that. There is a central cast of characters, and each book seems to focus on a different pair. So in each new story you get to revisit old friends, but from a new person’s perspective. It’s fun.
However......
Elyssa Patrick, you are killing me with continuity issues.
I liked this book so much that after finishing it I immediately picked up the first in the series, Stay With Me. And promptly learned that this second book, Go With Me, starts on a lie.
Ms. Patrick, how can you do that? HOW???
How can you start this book with the premise that Daphne hates Nick, or at least that she says she hates him, and won’t even admit to herself that she thinks he is hot, when in the last book she outright stated that she liked him but wanted him to work for it? The whole backstory in this book about Daphne and Nick involved them constantly bickering and her thinking they hated each other.
AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
Then, there are the gloves. Nick gives Daphne a pair of fingerless gloves for Valentine’s Day - a gift with great meaning, chosen with great consideration. Nevermind that in the previous book that takes place only a few months earlier she was wearing fingerless gloves. Did she lose the gloves she had? If so, no mention of that was made when she received the new gloves from Nick. Instead, it seemed like she never had fingerless gloves, and Nick getting them for her was like The Most Considerate and Thoughtful Gift Ever.
Lastly, there is the issue of The Accident. A horrific crash which occurred over a year before Go With Me begins, and in which everyone but Daphne died. Of course Daphne is dealing with some demons from the accident - survivor’s guilt, being smothered by concern from her brother and all of his friends, that kind of thing. The only demon she doesn’t seem to have developed after being the sole survivor of a fatal car accident is Drivers Anxiety. That’s right, Daphne was driving when her car was struck by a drunk driver, and her boyfriend, best friend, and best friend’s boyfriend were all killed. And although she doesn’t drive but once in the entire three months covered by this book, that one time (in which she is rushing a family member to the hospital), she steps up to the plate to drive when others are too frazzled and anxious to drive. That seems likely, right? Her whole existence is fraught with accident-related issues and anxiety, but the whole driving under pressure thing? Not a problem.
I cannot express how much these gaffes in the storyline bother me.
The story itself was pretty good. Daphne is cool, although her mental dialogue is a bit much. She is so casual about some things - like her lack of sexual experience and the fact that she came close to dying in that accident - yet gets overwrought about other things that I consider less important. The “big secret” that she keeps from Nick, that she is sure he will hate her for if he ever finds out falls into the “mountains out of molehills” category. However, Nick is super hot and so enamored with her, and she is generally lots of fun, so I can overlook her immature psychoses for the most part.
The continuity issues? Not forgivable.
I want to read the rest of this series. I really do. Daphne, her brother, and their friends are so entertaining and fun that I am curious to read how everyone else’s love story plays out. I am more than a little wary, though, of what I will find in the next stories. Will there continue to be major deviation from book to book? Will the author continue to show a cavalier indifference for what she has already written? There are at least four other characters whose stories are presumably waiting to be written.
Ms. Patrick, please, please, PLEASE keep the stories true.
3 stars
June 30, 2014
Surviving Love; Chapter 3
Start at the beginning of the book:
Surviving Love; Prologue
For a list of chapters, check out the summary page:
Surviving Love page
Chapter 3
Sara had never been yelled at so often in her life. And with such loud, throaty voices.The meal consisted of roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, and peas. Each cook—not chef, because a culinary degree was apparently just an artful wasting of time—had a way of doing things, and expected everyone else in the kitchen to adhere to those guidelines. Since Sara was the only new person, and since neither cook thought it necessary to explain their methods, Sara did every single thing wrong at least once before she learned her lesson.How did she learn her lesson? From shrill screaming and sometimes flying objects. Getting hit with a spatula was a strong deterrent to repeating a logical duty. Shame on her for deciding to cover the pot of gravy so it didn’t get cold.Christie thought the whole thing was hilarious. Apparently she’d learned the same way.After everything had been carried out to a large table off to the side of the of the large fire pit, a horn sounded.“Yes, that’s how they alert us to eat. By a cattle call.” Christie rolled her eyes exaggeratedly as she filed in line, grabbing Sara by the arm and dragging her behind. “C’mon, you gotta get in first or else all the guys take all the good stuff. They eat like animals.”“We’re boys, we have big appetites.”It felt like Sara’s stomach flip-flopped. A glance told her it was who she expected--Sam. “Hi,” he said, holding her gaze.The breath left her chest in a whoosh, ruffling his hair. His smile grew. He nodded to the table. “You might grab something, or the triangle boys will show up and cut in front. They don’t like waiting.”Sara noticed Christie was already halfway down the table, delicately picking the best cut of roast beef. Sara jerked to a start, grabbing a paper plate and immediately scooping up a giant pile of mashed potatoes.“Atta girl, show us boys what eating really is!” Sam laughed, taking the spoon from her, brushing her fingers.A jolt of insecurity had Sara scurrying down the line, grabbing food items willy-nilly. Plate mounded with calories, she chose a seat next to Christie and took a big breath. “I am not going to run from Sam just because I have no idea what I am doing. Flirting is acceptable, even if he is young. I need to practice.” She nodded her head in decision and stabbed her mashed potatoes.“Good for you!” Christie put her fork down so she could clap. “Plus, he’s really sweet! I was totally into him last year until I found out he had a girl. He’s a good choice. Just let me know when to be out of the room.”Sara nearly choked on her beef. “Goodness,I’m going to give him the time of day, not go buy a pole and give him a show. Give me a little credit.”Christie flashed an evil smile. “Just sayin’. When shopping turns to buying, just let me know.”The girls broke down in a fit of giggles as Sam joined them, sitting down cross-legged on the ground facing them. “What’d I miss?”They giggled harder. Sara felt like she was five years younger, her maturity dropping to match that of Christie. She wasn’t complaining. It felt good to laugh. “So you’re working for Jake, huh?” Sam asked after the twittering had stopped.Sara looked up as the triangle boys sauntered into the clearing, eyeing the line waiting for food. She spied Mikey in the back, his gaze doing a sweep of those gathered before finding her. His lips quirked, acknowledging her with a nod.Her heart jumped, wanting to get up and go kick him. Or sass him. Or any number of things she used to do. When Mikey was around, she was glued to his side. That’s just how it was.“You after Mountain Man Mike like all the other girls, huh?” Sam said, interrupting her thoughts. “She’s known him since they were kids,” Christie said with a full mouth. “He’s like a brother to her. But me? Yeah, I’m all over that, and I’ve got an in!”Sam smiled. “Wow, really? You know him? That’s cool! Why didn’t you say so?”Sara swallowed down her beef. “I didn’t know he was here. It was a huge shock, actually. Awesome, though. Like getting a piece of my childhood back. He used to be my knight in shining armor. Whenever I got picked on, he would always come to the rescue. I only got bullied once in each school year, and that only lasted long enough for him to come and scare the bully away.”“She was my knight, too.” The deep baritone permeated their group as Mikey strolled up with a lazy glide. When had he gotten so sure of himself? So comfortable in his own skin?He smiled down at her. “She tried to fight off my brothers whenever they picked on me.”Sara started laughing, yanking on his pants so he’d sit next to her. “It worked some of the time. They were such jerks.”“Jackasses.” Christie glanced at Sam and then Mikey. “We are working on Sara’s adult words.”“And by adult, do you mean an adult trucker? Like you?” Sam raised his eyebrows inquisitively.“They weren’t used to biting,” Mikey replied to the earlier topic. “We always got in trouble when we bit, but Sara, being a girl, had no rules.” He buttered his bread roll. “I had three older brothers. As the runt, the only time I didn’t get picked on was if my oldest brother came to my aid. When I got old enough to fight back, I still wasn’t bigger than anyone else. It was rough. But I always had my little alley cat to fight on my side.”His full lips turned upwards into a perfectly symmetrical smile. He must’ve gotten braces because his teeth were straight and white, booming the hotness factor. If Sara didn’t love him so much, she’d totally wish he would stumble into a ditch and fall on his face or something. Just something to knock him down a peg or two. Put them on the same plane for, oh, a moment. “Hey, earth to mopey,” Christie said, nudging her. “Mike was talking to you. Also staring. Which I haven’t pointed out is incredibly rude so as not to embarrass him...”“Thanks for sparing my feelings,” Mikey said in a dry tone.“What was that?” Sara asked, blinking a few times, wondering exactly where her life had gone wrong. She couldn’t help but wonder how things would’ve turned out if Mikey hadn’t left. Would he have steered her away from Phil? Would she have listened if he’d tried?“Care to go for a walk?” he repeated, his eyes glued to hers.“Yeah, sure.”She waited for Mikey to help her up and lead her to the trash. After chucking their plates in—the speed at which Mikey ate was a bit daunting—Sara happily tucked her arm in his and grinned like a fool.“This feels so good. Just this—linking arms, taking a walk, chatting. I miss the good ol’ days. We had a lot of fun.”“Yes we did.”Hearing the strange flatness in his tone, she glanced up. His gaze stared straight ahead. His arm was held out rigidly, as if it pained him to act as a cane for the impaired.“Oh, sorry,” she muttered, taking her arm away.“Why?” Mikey stopped suddenly, staring down at her with a crease in his eyebrows. “For what?”He reached for her hand, tucking it back in his arm like she’d had it. “This is how we walk.”Warmth infusing her chest, she smiled in relief. “Thanks. I just… I can’t help falling into the old ways, you know? It’s weird--it’s like all those years between you moving away and now didn’t happen. All the things we used to do--the little special ways we walked and whatever. It’s like opening a photo album you haven’t seen in a long time and remembering exactly when each picture was taken. How you felt, what you were up to—except, with you, the pictures aren’t orangy and faded. They’re HD in expensive frames and all gilded or whatever.”At his continued stare from a stern, blank visage, she blushed into the darkness and lowered her face. “Sorry. Can’t stop the ol’ gob from rattling on.”“What?” he asked softly. His pointer finger gently touched the bottom of her chin, lifting until her face pointed toward him again. His sweet breath ruffled her eyelashes, starting a strange hum deep in her sternum. It was vaguely familiar. Old, though, back from when they were kids. She just couldn’t place exactly what it had meant.Her mouth started regurgitating gibberish without her control. “Gob. Mouth. Chattering on. I never shut up, I know. Phil used to tell me that all the time. Drove him crazy how much I talked. And here I go again. Just can’t shut up. I sound…” Ridiculous. Mikey must’ve thought she was a complete fool. An old fool in a midlife crisis working with a bunch of college kids. Or worse, a deadbeat, like his dad had always said. A poor deadbeat, just barely a step above white trash. Even though Sara’s family was in the same suburb as the Frosts, Sara’s dad was a middle-tier businessman and their house was half the size--Mikey’s dad had been thrilled to get out of that Virginian town and into the wealthier section of Connecticut. “Sorry,” she apologized again, shaking her head and trying to reclaim her hand. “Please stop apologizing, Sara. I remember exactly the same things you do. And I miss them just as much. Let’s stop worrying about what people think, and just be us. We always had our own thing going. Now’s no different.”She leaned into his warmth and pushed away all the negative thoughts that seemed to accost her whenever she lost even the tiniest bit of faith in herself. Steeling her resolve, and putting her faith in her old friend, she clutched Mikey’s arm tighter and followed him into the trees, enjoying the feeling of the darkness swallowing them up.“Where to?” Sara asked.“We can go overlook the valley. The moon’s large so we should be able to see the river below. It glitters. It’s beautiful.”She felt his breath feather across the top of her head and smiled up at him. “So, what have you been up to?”She felt the shrug more than saw it. “I went for a stint in the Rangers. My dad kept pressuring me to fall in line, so I did, just not with his outfit. I learned about survival there, to some degree, then started learning more. After a while, I sorta became good at it.”Sara laughed, patting his arm. “Still modest to a fault, then? Apparently you’re great at it.”Their feet crunched into the night. Warm filled her chest, having her leaning veering in closer to Mikey’s body. “So how did you end up here?” “I wanted to try and keep my line of work within the survival realm. I asked a few ranches if they’d have a need, and this one and one other responded that they’d give it a try. I chose here because of the wilderness. It’s close enough that I can take classes into it for hands-on demonstrations. Also, once a season I purposely get lost, and then try to get rescued.”Sara stopped, facing him. “You what?”She could barely make out his cheeks lifting upwards in a smile. “Get lost. You know, forget where home is. I’ve always been good at that.”“Oh, you knew where your home was, all right. You just preferred mine because my mom waited on you hand and foot! Don’t think I didn’t know what was going on, Mikey Frost. She stopped getting me things unless I was as polite as you. She still does, too. It’s so irritating.”“Lazy.”Her mouth dropped open incredulously. “I’m lazy? You are the laziest guy I’ve ever met! You used to nearly pee your pants because you didn’t want to get up to use the restroom. You’d go hungry because you didn’t want to go to the kitchen. Are we remembering different people?”She tapped her foot and crossed her arms, staring at his shape in the darkness.He laughed and brushed her hair back from her forehead. “You win,” he admonished. “You mother was way nicer than mine.”“To you maybe.” Sara looked at his outline for a moment—the large shoulders reducing down into thin hips. The triangle, as Christie said. “Although, I guess that was before all the muscle. Lazy men don’t have all of this.”She laid her hand on his bicep and traced the grove of the substantial muscle. She squeezed it, though it didn’t have much give, feeling his heat soak into her palm. He watched her silently as she slid her hand up to his hard shoulder. “I mean, Mikey, wow. Where did all this come from? You used to be a butterball.”“You forget about the growth spurt.”“Oh yeah.” Sara laughed, letting her hand drop back to his forearm. “When you shot up those eighty inches that one year? Yeah, you got gangly really quickly.”He tucked her hand under his arm and started walking again. “I’m active these days. I’m working outside a lot, and I make sure to keep in shape for my expeditions. I need to make sure I can actually survive.”“So, you wander around and just wait until you forget which way you came from, or something?”“I have someone blindfold me, then drop me in an undisclosed location. I have to hump it out of there and find help as if I was actually in a survival.”“What if you don’t find help?”“I have a G.P.S. device in the sole of my shoe. After four days, if I don’t make contact, they activate the device and come get me.”“And what if you lose your shoe? Or can’t make four days?”“Then I fail.”It took a moment for what he meant to sink in. “Wow. Dangerous.”“Survival.”“I take it you’ve never died in one of your experiments...”He chuckled. “Nope.”They emerged from the tree line onto a ledge with a small patch of wild grass. Fifteen feet from the nearest tree the sky brushed the dirt, the mountain dropping away into a steep cliff high above the valley floor.“Oh, whoa.” Sara pulled back, strangely worried the whole ledge would fall away if she put any pressure on it. That’s what it looked like. “Did I just stumble into my own murder scene?”“Yeah, right. You’d probably drag me with you. It looks scary in the dark, but I’m here all the time. We won’t go to the edge, scaredy-cat.” Sara took one step out. “What, do you take girls up here to make out?”A cricket started its song off to the right. A glance told her what she suspected. “Oh really? Scabby little Mikey has turned into a lady-killer, huh? Well, you better hope I don’t meet your girlfriends or I’ll give them an earful!”He chuckled, lowering her to the ground and then settling beside her comfortably. “Not so much. But I didn’t enter into any priesthood, either. I always treat a woman with respect, and this place is a great way to…initiate the beginnings of…deeper respect.”“Get her to drop her pants. Just say it! Get her to give it up. I’m not eleven anymore, you can be honest.”“The scenery helps, yeah. But I like this place. It’s quiet. Peaceful.”She nodded, looking out at the night. She let her head fall back, letting her gaze trace the blanket of stars above. “It’s breathtaking. All of this. Montana. It blows my mind. It’s everything I always hoped it would be.”“Wait until winter. It’ll freeze your mind.”“I won’t be hanging around for winter. I leave in late September.”His body leaned toward her. “Then what?” he asked quietly.She shrugged, fresh tears springing. She swiped at her face and set her jaw for a moment, willing strength. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”“I heard about Phil. Sorry. Must be hard.”Words like that were as helpful as an iron belt on a swimmer. She blinked a few times to clear her vision. “How did you hear?”“My mom. Everyone was shocked. I think that’s why my mom mentioned it to me.”She changed the subject. “I didn’t really recognize you. You’re all tall and broad and everything. No trace of that baby fat anymore.”“It wasn’t baby fat—I was a pudgy little kid.” He nudged her shoulder with a chuckle, then settled back onto his elbow, looking out over the ledge peacefully. “I had another growth spurt after I left you. Kind of a late bloomer. I was skinny until I went into the Rangers. They whipped me up pretty good.”“I must look exactly the same. Plus a few dozen wrinkles.”“I expected you to have more laugh lines, actually. You used to laugh all the time. But I guess the breakup…”“No, I stopped laughing long before then. Stuff just stopped being funny somewhere along the line. Not sure why.”“Are you okay?” he asked so softly she almost didn’t hear him.Her body bowed of its own accord, slumping next to him. Her lower lip trembled right before the floods. Right before she yanked open the cavity that used to hold her heart and let all the hurt pour out.He was there a moment later, wrapping her up and hugging her tight, tucking her into his big body. She snaked her arms around his middle, holding on for dear life, wishing to all hell he could smooth over the pain. Quell the hurt. Take them back all those years ago, before they knew he would move away, when they thought they had the rest of their lives to climb the monkey bars and cheat at hopscotch. When they thought the worst hurt they’d ever face was scraping their knee or breaking their arm.“It’ll get better. This will heal,” Mike murmured, resting his cheek on her head as he gently rocked her. “This pain won’t last forever.”She nodded, her sobs slowing. “I know. It just…I feel so violated. He’d been with another woman for a year, Mikey. A woman that was basically me without the history. Without the drooping face and tired eyes. He took the best part of me, and discarded the worst. Who’s going to want me now? I’m all used up. I’m—““Shhh,” Mike rubbed her back. “You’re talking nonsense. I recognized you right away. Your age sharpened your beauty, not dulled it. You’re a woman now. Men will line up to ask for your hand. Phil was giving up a Mona Lisa in exchange for a piece of modern art--a masterpiece versus a toilet seat on a canvas covered in feces. Or something else ridiculous. Trust me, I went to a modern art museum a while back, and that stuff is weird!”Sara couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.“So hush, now. Don’t talk like that. You’re in your prime. You’re on your sexual cusp. Life for a woman your age is just starting to get good. You didn’t leave anything behind. Actually, if Phil wasn’t such a knuckle-head, he would’ve held on tight and road the hurricane when your sexy systems blossomed.”Sobs turned into body chuckles. “What are you even talking about?”Mikey was chuckling, too. She felt it rumbling against her cheek. “I don’t know, I feel like a kid again. Just that, men get all sexual when they’re eighteen, and women get it when they’re in their thirties. Or something. I swear I heard it. You’re going to get all horny soon.”“You sound like you’re fifteen!” Sara couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying at t his point, with her body hiccupping into him, wrapped in his arms. She sniffed and backed off, leaving her hands on his chest. He put his palm on her cheek, his eyes softening. “What do you need from me? I should’ve been there when it happened. I assigned myself as your watch dog when you were two years old. That was for life. I should’ve been there. Through all of it.”A tear tumbled out, warmth filling her chest. He swished the tear away with his thumb silently, his eyes intently studying her. “Just be my friend. I really need one right now,” Sara replied softly.“Of course. Forever. We won’t let distance separate us again. I need my little fart factory.”“Oh my God!” she squealed. “You remember that? Look, I was young, no one told me that farting wasn’t hilarious!”“Then why are you laughing?”She wasn’t laughing. She was cackling. Hands on her stomach, bending over at the waist, she helplessly guffawed. “I was so gross!”“I do believe I won the farting competition most of the time. Looking back on it, I think I had a problem.” A crooked smile quirked Mikey’s lips.“But you’re a boy. Boys are supposed to be gross. I was supposed to be all dainty and, I don’t know, bell-like.”“Bell-like? More like bruiser-like.” He put his hand up, palm out, fingers spread apart.Without even thinking, Sara put her palm to his, fitting her fingers between his. Electricity surged at the contact, sizzling through her arm and dumping into her body. Swirls of exuberance washed through her, joy and bliss making a spicy cocktail. A smile lit up her face. “Wow, we still have that weird electrical socket thing going on. When was the first time that happened, do you remember?” Sara asked.“We were in the tree house, remember? I was twelve and you had just turned ten.”“That’s right, we’re not a whole three years apart.” She thought back to the soft petals of sun drifting through the tree branches and floating around them. Mikey had held his hand up, just like he had a million times, only this time, when she threaded her fingers through his, a jolt of pure electricity singed her palm and raced up through her arm. It had settled strangely in her body, tickling some parts and tingling others. She’d been terrified at the time, unsure what it was and why it happened. Not liking the strange surge and the answering feelings. Now, though, she let the pleasant feeling settle deep into her body, humming through her. It was safety and comfort. Like him.“I tried to kiss you that day,” he said softly. “A real kiss. Remember?”She nodded, still sitting in that tree house. His beautiful hazel eyes, so expressive, had been looking at her strangely. Kind of like he was questioning something--scared, curious and sure of himself, all at the same time. The strange feeling of holding his hand, and then that look, had been enough to scare her. When his lips touched hers, she freaked out and socked him.“I gave you a bloody nose,” she said with a laugh, slapping his shoulder playfully with the hand not being held. “I wasn’t ready for kissing boys. You were older.”“And are you now?” he asked in a deep, soft voice.Cold raced through her middle, terror turning that pleasant feeling into something suggestive. Implied romance triggering the pain and uncertainty of her breakup. Her eyes widened in shock and she loosened her hand from his.“No, I mean, have you moved on? Put your ex behind you?” Mikey said hastily, dropping his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…”“Oh no,” she waved the thought away. “No, of course. Duh! No, I know. Just surprised me, is all.” She sucked in a deep breath and let the relieved sigh tumble out, taking all her insecurity with it. “In answer to your question, no, I’m not ready. Truthfully, I don’t know that I’ll be ready again. I don’t think I love him, anymore. Haven’t for a while, if I’m extremely honest with myself. But then, I stopped loving myself, too. Kind of…”She turned away, looking out at the night. She wasn’t ready to admit the depth of what Phil had done to her. How bad he had hurt her scared her to her core. Saying it out loud, admitting her lack of worth—she wasn’t strong enough yet not to believe it. “I’ll never push you, Sara, you know that,” Mikey said quietly, gentle words on a breeze. “But I always have an ear open, should you need it. Please know that.”“I know,” she whispered. “I’m just not ready for a lot of things, I guess.”“That’s to be expected. Time is a great healer, though.”“So they say.”“Yes, they do. Or why else would they put it in a fortune cookie, which is where I got that excellent cliché.”Laughter bubbled up despite her mood. She leaned so her face could rest on his shoulder. “You always knew just what to say.”“Lies.”“Not lies. I’m just gently bending the truth.”He huffed out a laugh and stared out at the stars, shimmering beyond the ledge, making it seem like they were floating together in the syrup of the Milky Way. There they sat for ages, not needing words within each other’s company. After a while, though, Mikey reached into his pocket and brought out his phone. The world obtrusively lit up. From the glow, she could see him grimace. A moment later, he slowly stood up, reaching down a hand for her. After she was standing, he said, “I have a feeling that, besides throwing out a ripper, you haven’t changed all that much. Or why would you be here, in your childhood dream?”Sara wormed her arm through his, turning solemn. “Working as a waitress isn’t really the dream, but yeah, I figured the responsible job I had didn’t make as much sense anymore.” She stepped over dried, crackly brush in contemplation. After a moment, she followed up with, “I just figured I might get out there and experience some life.”They sauntered back to the fire pit, half a dozen girls looking up and tracking Mikey with their gazes. Before Sara could joke about it, he stopped in front of her, bestowing all his attention on her.“My dream was to be G.I. Joe. There is always a way to claim what’s ours if we keep our eye on the prize. Okay?”“Um…yes. Got it.”“Give me your phone.”Sara dug in her back pocket and produced a smartphone. He quickly pecked at the face and then handed it back. “My number’s in there. The service out here is spotty at best, but call me anytime. Preferably more often than anytime. And leave messages. Or text. Texting works usually.”“Definitely.” She bobbed her head, clutching the phone tightly.He lifted her hand to his mouth, the softness of his lips grazing her skin, like in an old western. He winked, a smile lighting up his face, before he turned.“Kissing my hand doesn’t make you a cowboy—“ Sara cut off as she realized that the stint in the Rangers was to fulfill the G.I. Joe calling. That his life on the ranch wrangling cows did make him a cowboy. He was knocking out all his dreams one-by-one.“You’re still just as much of a goof!” she yelled after him, forgetting for a minute she wasn’t a rambunctious pre-teen.He turned and bowed with a flourish before darkness swallowed him up.“What was that all about?” Christie said with wide eyes.“Since when does Mountain Man Mike have a sense of humor?” Sam’s expression was befuddled as he watched the spot where Mikey had disappeared.“We were just reliving the good ol’ days. We were a couple of weird kids, I’ll say that much. We didn’t care that we were nerds because we had each other.” She shrugged. “Back to real life, though.”Christie grabbed an imaginary whistle and tugged. “Toot, toot! All aboard.”
*****
Mike could barely feel his legs. It felt like he’d just jumped out of a plane with his eyes closed. Past the initial plunge, a guy couldn’t tell that he was free-falling. With all the wind resistance, invisible hands pushing back as his body bore down, it felt like a wind tunnel unless he opened his eyes and visibly saw the ground rushing at him. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes. He knew she’d be here, of course. He’d heard of the split, of her fiancé picking someone else. Sara had been the laughing stock of their family for years. The man she’d been engaged to was some piece of trash. Gambling addiction with the debt to prove it, no drive, no prospects, no future. She kept them afloat through it all, shedding her dreams when she should have shed the man. And then he’d dumped her. She’d bled for the man, and he just tossed her aside. What a dick.When Mike had heard all this, he knew he had to call her. She’d been on his mind off and on his whole life, constantly popping up randomly, begging him to remember. Hearing, though, that she’d be making a horrible mistake—said her parents—and quitting her high-powered job to become a nobody in some dude ranch, Mike knew exactly where she’d go. She’d always loved Montana; she’d head here first.After that, it was just a matter of keeping his ears open. With her skill set and age, not many larger establishments would use her. Why should they? There were stacks of applications from people with ranching or hospitality experience. So when he told Jake to keep his eyes open, as soon as the golden ticket came in, Mike made sure she got brought on.And here she was. Ho-ly crap.Did no one think to mention her beauty? His brothers had seen her occasionally, though probably never stopped to say hi, but they’d seen her. Could they not have mentioned, in passing, that the girl was a knock-out? Deadly curves, soft brown hair to her mid-back, large, almond shaped eyes in a delicate face. He’d got a hard-on the second he’d seen her.She looked sad, though. Her shoulders hunched, her eyes constantly strayed to the side, thoughts pushing into her head unbidden—her ex had done a number on her. She’d had expectations, and he’d let her down.Still, she was free. She’d get over this. She’d realize that the little girl Mike had once known was still in there, tough and ready for anything, dragging Mike around by the collar to experience anything and everything she could. She’d always been a fire starter, and once this sadness evaporated, she’d see that her ex-dickhead did her a favor.Mike trudged toward the parking lot with his hands stuck deeply in his pockets. He spied Jake’s truck, the gruff man just opening his driver’s door.“Can I hitch a ride back?” Mike asked through the moonlit parking lot. It wasn’t often guests went back to their cars after their initial check-in, so the ranch didn’t waste the energy to light the way. Plus, it was the wilderness in Montana—using a flashlight was expected.Jake yanked his head toward the truck. The man spoke in body language the way normal people used words. As Mike climbed in, his thoughts churned back to Sara. Parts of her were exactly the same. It was like, by leaving, they’d thrown a cover over that part of their life to keep the dust off, knowing that someday their other half would show up and they could pick up where they left off.He’d just opened his eyes, and the ground was rushing up at him a mile-a-minute. “She wants to be friends.” Mike’s voice sounded too loud, even competing with the roar of the truck. With Jake, if you didn’t learn to read the subtle signs, he might as well have been mute. Most of the time Mike found comfort in the silence. With the Rangers, often times he’d had to sit quietly in the field, both for training and for missions. Now, as a survival expert, not a lot had changed, his office being the wilderness, his task force an army of one—himself. He’d grown used to quiet time, taking comfort in observation.Now, though, the silence seemed like an enemy.“She’s had a rough time of it—I get that. But we fit together.” Mike intertwined his fingers in demonstration. Realizing he looked like a clown, and dropped his hands back to his lap. He stared out the window at the darkness. “We’ve both changed, but in the same direction. Our life experiences are different, but they add to the flavor. Yet, she’s tucked me in her friend bucket. I’m in the friend zone. It’s suicide.”Mike blew out a frustrated breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He had his life on the line right now, and he was in the friend zone. Why not just stroll to the front line in the buff and throw a little wave at the enemy?“She seems sad. Depressed,” Jake commented.Mike almost laughed. The two of them hardly exchanged three words unless about business, yet here they were, having a dialogue about a girl. There were stranger things, but not recently.Not to lose the opportunity for help, Mike explained, “She was with one guy for over ten years. Only guy she’s ever been with. He cheated on her for a year, that she knows of, and then finally dumped her for the other girl. The other girl was younger, apparently.”Jake made a noise that sounded like a soft whistle.“Yeah, women hate being dumped for younger girls,” Mike affirmed. “They don’t realize the guy is just insecure. Especially in this case. Those kinds of guys need immaturity in their woman so they seem more like men—less like immature deadbeats.” Jake put his hand on his knee. “Long time.”Mike agreed. It was a long time. A lo-ong time. She’d only known one man intimately. She’d missed flirting, forgotten the rush of the first kiss, and the wonder of making love for the first time. This was also her first mistake. She had no previous mistakes to temper this heartache. She had no other terrible life lessons to put this in perspective. She now saw her whole adult life as one giant mistake.His heart twisted for her.“She’s gonna jump back on too quick. Then run for the hills. Friend is best,” Jake’s voice rumbled.Mike stared at the crotchety ranch hand. It seemed that when the guy used words, Mike got confused. “Not following.”“She’s gonna try‘n fix it with someone.”The light bulb clicked on. “Rebound. She’s going to rebound.” That made sense. She wasn’t the type of woman to hide. Never had been. She’d gather up her courage, look for someone decent—the opposite of what she’d had—and force intimacy. She would then realize she screwed up, taken the wrong path, and finally force herself to heal rather than patch it up. “She doesn’t have a record of jumping out of a bad situation, though. She sticks it out.” Mike scrubbed his fingers through his hair again.“Women learn eventually. Just have to hang around.”Hang around? As a friend? Then what? How did he cross the friend barrier? “You always had a knack for training wild horses,” Jake continued.Mike stared at Jake in utter loss. “Are you trying to baffle me, or is it a natural gift?”Jake grunted. Apparently Mike was dense, was he? That right?As they parked, Jake turned off the ignition and sat for a minute, reflecting. Mike waited patiently. When Jake finally spoke, his voice drawled softly, as if imparting some long forgotten rhetoric.“She’s gonna get to a stage where she’s lost—don’t know which way to turn. Her herd is gone, her life as she knew it gone, ‘n all she’s got is an ugly horse wrangler with a soft voice and subtle hand. You gotta know that exact point--” Jake’s hand snatched an invisible soul out of the air. “And turn her to your side. You’re a good horse wrangler, for a numb-nuts city boy. Women are no diff’rnt.”As Mike digested that unexpected wisdom, Jake half turned, gave Mike’s shoulder two manly pats, and exited the cab.All Mike could do was blink in the aftermath, both regarding the advice, and because that sermon sounded like it came from personal experience. Mike knew Jake was a creature of great depth, he’d just never gotten proof. Before he could follow Jake out of the truck, his phone vibrated.
Text from Sara: whatcha doin?Text from Sara: n don’t say talking to me. my father tells that joke
Mike couldn’t help but smile with how quickly she’d made contact after they separated. She felt it. That pull. That yearning for the other, wanting to just hang out every minute of the day. Wanting that presence of the other. He had no idea how he’d spent half his life without her. Seeing her again, even in that first glimpse, all he wanted to do was glue himself to her side. Just like before.Feeling his stomach squirm with anticipation, he let himself into the barracks he shared with Jake and Greg, close to the ranch, and slipped into his room.
Text from Mikey: Texting youText from Sara: grrr! where r u?Text from Mikey: In bed. U?Text from Sara: bed. hiding under covers from Christie or she’d want to know what u were saying
Mike smiled, settling into his pillow and burrowing into the down.
Text from Mikey: Miss me already?Text from Sara: missing my mikey electric blanketText from Sara: not missing the cramped space thou. ur too big now to fit.
He would fit just fine. She’d get used to it, when she came around. Over and over again he’d fit. For long periods of time.
Text from Mikey: Get a bigger bedText from Sara: ha! it wouldn’t fit in the room, fattyText from Mikey: Come to mine. Got plenty of space.Text from Sara: maybe some time. night-night. don’t let bugs biteText from Sara: *bed bugsText from Sara: biteText from Sara: dig it
A smile worked up Mike’s face. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, and come over was the first. I’ll come to you was the second. I love you the third.
Text from Mikey: ‘Night. See you soon!
It would have to do. For now.
*****
Sara sat on the floor at seven years old in the living room in cowboy boots, a new, tweed hat, and a homemade cowgirl outfit that her mom sewed. Mikey sat right next to her with almost exactly the same outfit, a huge bag of candy opened in front of him.“Snickers, please.” Sara held out her hand as she pawed through her Halloween candy.Mikey glanced at her hand. His eyebrows dipped low. “I like Snickers. I’ll trade for Kitkat.”“What?” Sara spied his candy, and then raised her outraged gaze to his chubby face. “We had a deal. I’d dress up like a goober if you traded me Snickers for my Starburst. You can’t go back now, after the fact.”“You’re the cowgirl to my cowboy. That’s your job as a girl. And I didn’t spit-shake for it. The contract nult and voided. It isn’t binded.”Black clouds came through, hovering over Sara’s expression. “Looking stupid has nothing to do with being a girl. And don’t you start talking like your dad again. You don’t even know what any of that means. Give me your Snickers. You promised!”“No. You can have the Kitkat or nothing.” “You turd!” Sara wadded up her fist and punched him in the arm as hard as she could.“Sara!” Denise yelled from the kitchen. “I saw that. Stop picking on him.”“Let her,” Mikey’s dad said in a gruff, disapproving voice. “If my son can’t protect himself from a girl, he shouldn’t call himself a man.”“Oh, Roger, stop. He’s just a boy,” Pam said from beside her husband in the kitchen with Denise. “He won’t give me the Snickers!” Sara yelled, leaning forward to grab what she wanted.Mikey snatched his bag to his chest with one hand and shoved her shoulder with his other hand. Sara tumbled away from him, reaching to grab her bag with her so he didn’t get grabby. “Michael Frost, we do not hit women!” Roger roared.“You just told him to protect himself, and know you yell at him that he shouldn’t hit girls? Which is it?” Pam drawled without humor.“C’mere, Mike, we’re going home,” Roger demanded.Face set in a smug mask, Mikey clutched his candy tight to his chest. “I win.”“You’re going to get in trouble, and you think you win?” Sara asked smugly.“At least you don’t get the Snickers. And you hate Starburst, so I’ll still get it.”“I’ll throw it all away, you butthead. You’re not going to get it!”Mikey rose to a standing position, his face a stubborn mask. “Just wait. I will. I win.”“C’mon, Michael, I haven’t got all day.” Roger stood by the door impatiently.As Mikey took a step across Sara’s seated body, Sara kicked up a foot and caught his boot. Balance still going forward, but his foot momentarily caught on Sara’s, gravity took over. He stumbled forward, refusing to let go of his candy, and spilled onto the ground. His face scraped against the shag carpet. “Sara!” Denise yelled.Sara threw Mikey an evil grin. “Worth it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Get a list of all the released chapters here:
Surviving Love page
Surviving Love, Chapter 2
Start at the beginning of the book:
Surviving Love; Prologue
If you haven't read Chapter 1:
Surviving Love; Chapter 1
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 2
“C’mon, hurry!” Christie was bobbing in the doorway like a fishing lure in water, an excited smile glittering on her face.“It’s just orientation, right?” Sara asked, brushing out her wet hair. “Yeah, but the cowboys will be at this one! We get to see who’s got what so we know what we’re volunteering for.”“What do you mean, who’s got what?” Sara followed Christie out the door, swiping a strand of thick hair over her shoulder.“Each ranch hand or cowboy heads up different tasks. There are a couple really hot guys—I want to get on one of their teams this year. Last year I had to work for that stodgy Jake. Nice guy—I’ve heard—but you basically work the whole time in silence. Plus, he works you really hard. I mean…really hard.” She made a gesture like she was wiping sweat off her forehead.“So you want a cute guy you can stare at while you do not-a-lot?” Sara asked with a grin.“Exactly, and if you know what’s good for you, you will, too. Carrying trays with blisters is not fun!”Christie had a good point there.They stepped out the back of the house and crossed a patch of garden, the blooming flowers as beautiful as they were fragrant. Ducking through a cluster of large trees, they emerged into a circular clearing with a large fire pit surrounded by chairs.“This must be the fire pit Sam was talking about,” Sara mumbled to herself.“Oooh, you met Sam? He’s cute, isn’t he? I think he’s single, too. He had a girlfriend last year, but they were on the rocks. She didn’t like him leaving for three months. I think she gave him an ultimatum—if he came this year she’d break it off. Well…he’s here.”“It’d be hard to miss a loved one every year.”Christie shrugged with one shoulder as they neared a large, newly painted red barn. Murmurs floated out of the opened doors along with a soft glow of light. “True. Not saying I blame her, but him being available isn’t a bad thing. Speak of the devil.”They crossed the threshold and stepped toward a crowd of people, shifting and chatting as they waited for the meeting to begin. Leather and metal climbed the walls and littered shelves, equipment for horses and other livestock. Feed bags were stacked in the corners and hey was piled in a loft high up in the back. No animals housed in this barn, the stall doors had been taken off for storage of large, motored equipment. Sara had no idea what any of them were used for except the lawn mower, even though she hadn’t seen any lawn thus far. “Hey, Sam, good to see you again.” Christie gave him a jubilant hug. “So…you came back, huh?”“Hey Christie—and yes, you suppose correctly. Single again. I know you were going to hint until I finally admitted it,” Sam said in a dry voice.“Aw!” Christie made a pouty face. “Sorry to hear that. Sara’s newly single, too. It was a bad year for relationships. I wouldn’t know—I haven’t had a proper one in a while.”Sam’s gaze turned to Sara, his gaze holding hers for a moment. She felt her face heat and immediately pointed it toward the ground. She was way too old to be flushing like a tween every time this guy looked her way.“Sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice full of sympathy, and something else she didn’t want to identify. Uncomfortably, she took a step away. With so many things to fix in her life, she needed a break from anything male. Sam seemed sweet, but she had a feeling he wasn’t thinking about picket fences and roses when his gaze assessed her. And even if he was, she was too broken and beat up to view “happily ever after” the same way she used to. And that was before even noticing the obvious age gap…Christie must’ve noticed it, because she sidetracked the conversation with a whisper in an excited hush, “Oh, here come the triangle boys! Yee haw.” A cluster of stern-looking men entered the barn with confident strides. Lean and hard, their bodies bespoke a hard living in a wild environment. They were all incredibly in shape and very well defined.“What do you mean by ‘triangle guys’?” Sara asked in a low voice so they couldn’t hear. The pack walked down the middle of the aisle, getting deeper into the barn before stepping off to the side. “All their upper bodies look like upside-down triangles. You know, the broad shoulders and thin hips. Triangles.” Christie traced a triangle in the air with her fingers over one of the men’s robust upper body.“Okay, great, let’s start,” an older man in a white cowboy hat said as he climbed on a bale of hay so he could be seen. “Hello, everyone, I’m Dan, the owner of this ranch. For those of you who don’t know, this ranch has been in the family since 1916 when it was homesteaded as a land grant. Cattle and hay were raised until the 1930’s. About then we stepped back and took it all in. Because of our location—so close to the wilderness, with the abundance of wildlife—we decided to outfit for hunting. In the sixties, we took the next step, and built the dude ranch. We now entertain hunters, fisherman, survival enthusiasts, vacationers, and all others who want to visit an active ranch. We provide excellent service with safe and hands-on demonstrations. That’s why you are all here. We work together, all of us, to make sure our guests leave happy. A happy guest is a great marketer, not to mention an investment. We have a few families that visit every year. We try hard to keep them. Any questions?” The gathered crowd shuffled and looked around at each other, but no one spoke.“Great. I advise everyone to read their welcome pamphlet for the various rules. If you have any questions, please see one of the senior staff—““Who are you calling old?” a graying woman with an equally white cowboy hat hollered with her hands on her hips. She was standing next to Dan, but on the ground, facing the crowd with a beaming smile. Dan chuckled and bent down to put his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “This is May, my wife and co-owner. She gets prickly when you call her senior.”The crowd chuckled, more to play along with the vibrant couple—and bosses!—than because of the joke itself.“As I was saying, talk to one of the high-leveledstaff—“ Dan paused for May to nod, hands still on hips, “and we’ll take care of you. Now, for the volunteers.”It turned out there was actually a lot to volunteer for. They needed help all over the ranch, and instead of hiring more workers they offered free lessons or horse riding to those from the existing staff that helped. Being that Sara wanted to do all she could so as not to have down time, or, God forbid, alone time, she planned to volunteer for everything she possibly could.Unfortunately, that proved difficult. Every time something came up that didn’t interrupt her already assigned duties, it seemed like the whole place had their hands up. Ten minutes in and she hadn’t gotten picked for one task.“Okay, get ready to put up your hand!” Christie said halfway into the distribution of duties, excitement bubbling into her words. “They’re doing Mike’s stuff!”“I’ve been putting my hand up the whole time. And who’s Mike?” Sara asked as Dan yelled out for stall cleaning. Sara’s hand shot up alongside Christie’s. And every other girl in the place.“Christie mucking stalls? This I gotta see!” Dan chortled.“I don’t like poop,” Christie explained as Dan jotted her name down.Sara crinkled her nose. That made sense. “Who wants to chop wood?” Dan read off his clipboard.“Is this still Mi—“ Sara’s voice cut off as another wave of hands rose in the air. Christie grabbed Sara’s hand to raise it for her.“We’ll give wood chopping to Simon and Nash. The young always have so much energy.” Dan jotted down another name. “Okay that’s it for Mike this season. He has a higher enrollment this year, on account of being nationally acclaimed for his survival school. Let’s give him a round of applause!”The barn filled with clapping and cheering. A man standing to the side and slightly removed from the other triangle boys shifted uncomfortably.“He’ll be spending more time on that this year. We had to bring in trailers to house everyone that wants to room and board! Great work. Okay, on to Jake. He’ll need help with fence repair. I need three volunteers.” Sara’s hand shot up, desperate to be first. She needn’t have bothered—her hand was the only one in the air.“Oh, our newest staff member. Let’s give Sara a hand for the being the only person not afraid of a hard day’s work!” Dan laughed merrily. Almost as one unit, everyone in the barn turned to survey the red faced, blustering woman in the back of the barn.Spoiler alert: it was Sara, currently trying to shrink back between Sam and Christie. “Okay, two others. C’mon, you get free horse riding for the whole summer… Good man, Simon. And you, Paul? Think you can fit it in?”Sara noticed Paul staring at her chest as he said, “Yeah, I’m in.”“He’s so creepy!” Christie whispered with a sour face, staring at Paul. “He relentlessly hits on people and he stands way too close. I do not envy you, girl. Yuck.” “Great,” Dan continued, looking over his list. “Next, conditioning the leather equipment, also under Jake’s watchful eye. This can be done at any time—“Sara’s hand cut him off.“My goodness, I have a feeling Sara didn’t hear the rumors.” Dan’s eyes twinkled as he looked at Sara. He seemed to expect some sort of reply.As heads started turning toward her, she stammered out a, “Oh, uh…” She cleared her throat. “I just want to learn all I can, and it seems like everyone else beat me to it for the other stuff…”“Right you are! You have to start somewhere.” Dan jotted her name down. “And Jake knows all the in’s-and-out’s-- he’s the best. Okay, next…”“You are so going to regret that,” Christie commented, staring at the triangle boys. “Why is Mike staring at you?” Christie nudged Sara, making the other woman swivel her gaze away from her schedule to meet eyes the color of spun honey in a man a few years older than her with short, dark hair and a chiseled face. He looked vaguely familiar, as if she’d seen him passing in the street. She dipped her eyes back to her schedule as she shrugged. “I don’t know, but I really want to learn how to—“Sara’s hand cut through the air like an overanxious student sitting in the front row.“Tim and Shauntice, you can help with fire preparation.” Dan jotted the last of the names down. “Okay, that’s it for volunteers. Cooking staff, head in. We’ll have dinner at the Pit.”“Dang it, I only got those two things.” Sara crinkled her schedule as she tucked it into her back pocket. “Trust me, those two classes will seem like five! Oh my God…”Christie’s fingers wrapped around Sara’s wrist. Sara startled and looked up quickly, expecting a tornado coming their way, or something else equally as frightening and life threatened. Instead, her gaze met a wide expanse of muscular shoulder. In confusion, she titled her face upwards and met that golden-brown she’d seen before.“Hi Mike,” Christie said from beside Sara. The fingertips digging holes in Sara’s arm were starting to hurt.Mike’s gaze flicked toward Christie. He nodded before his focus settled back on Sara a moment later. “Sara Michaels, right?”“Um, yes?” she answered hesitantly.His expectant stare hinted that she was supposed to recognize him, somehow. Dutifully, she scanned his vaguely familiar face. High cheekbones and a narrow nose adorned his handsome and defined appearance, his strong jaw lending a distinctly masculine feel, enhanced by the small cleft in his chin. Large shoulders, pushed back in an unmistakable air of confidence, stretched his shirt to the point of comedy, the fabric taut over a defined chest and loosening up again as it flowed over a trim stomach. His charisma radiated out from beautiful, spun-honey eyes wrapped in a lush, black lashes, something models the world over would kill for. Completing the tableau was a strange sort of command in his baring, dominance almost—that, and a prestige which could only come with a silver spoon and a lingering case of Huge-Bank-Account-Idis. She shook her head with a rumbled brow. “Sorry…I don’t think I know you…”“I’m Mikey Frost,” he pushed. “Jack’s son. We grew up together…”All the thoughts fell out of Sara’s head. The world spun around her like vertigo. The face of the teenager in the back of his parent’s car flashed through her mind. She tried to fit the handsome man in front of her over the pudgy little boy she’d known.Her jaw dropped. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” She threw her arms around him, not believing it. She felt his answering squeeze, then wheezed as he nearly cracked a rib. “I haven’t seen you in… Jesus, how long has it been?”His lips quirked as he scrutinized her face. “A long time. Years and years.”“Not since you moved to—where was it? New Jersey?”“Connecticut.”“Right!” She slapped his arm, then hugged him again, so happy to have a good, solid memory from her past that didn’t hurt. Unbidden, tears sprang to her eyes, Mikey tied so closely to her heart strings from their past that the tug shook loose the pain. “Sorry,” she wiped furiously at her face. “Sorry! I just—it’s just so good to see you. We should have kept in touch.”“We were fourteen—well, I was fourteen. You were, what, twelve when I left?”“Eleven,” she said, scrubbing away another tear. “Still. I don’t know. You were like my brother. I missed you. I can’t believe you’re here! What a crazy coincidence.”“Sara, we should go…” Christie was staring after two larger people, women both, moving off toward the house. Mikey followed her gaze. “Christie’s right—Ethel and Florence won’t treat you well if you’re late.” His eyes once again settled on Sara’s face. “I’ll catch up with you at the Pit. We’re staying in the area tonight, so I’ll be around.” He took a step back to let her go.The familiar pull of him, directly out of their youth, had her lurching forward. “Wait!” She clutched his muscular arm. “I mean, obviously, yes. I need to go. But…”Her imploring eyes hit his, falling into that beautiful spun honey surrounded by black fringe—she remembered those eyes vividly now. As if she’d brushed off the haze of old memories, the past came surging back. And, strangely, with the memories rode her pink banana seat bike. Odd. Her heart thumped and another tear came to her eye, but not from Phil this time.“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” he said with a small smile, smoothing her hair. “I’m not leaving forever—never was, remember? I told you I’d see you again. And look, here I am. Magical.”Sara blurted out a laugh, spraying him with spit. “Ew, sorry. I spit.”“Yes. I am aware,” he said with a wry grin, wiping his face with his sleeve.She let escape a big sigh as Christie hopped from foot to foot. “I love reunions, I really do,” Christie muttered, “but seriously, Sara, the cooking twins are pure evil if you keep them waiting.”Sara nodded, her childhood memories floating around her, fitting the image of the awkward, pudgy boy over that of this poised, self-assured man. He was so different. So large and in charge. Grown up. But the center of him, the squishy middle, was still that little boy who loved to laugh and chase her around with slugs. She could feel that remembered closeness, just like back in the day. “Okay, well—God, it’s…I’m blown away. It is so good to see you, Mikey. Of all the jip-joints in all the dirty, tree covered areas, you had to walk into mine.” She grinned at him with a hand on his forearm.His mouth quirked harder, threatening a shy smile. He made like he was tipping an imaginary hat. “I’ll see you in a while.”“Sa—ra,” Christie said, bouncing impatiently. A glance at Christie had his smile beaming brighter. With a wink at Sara he turned, making his way back into the barn with purposeful, powerful strides. Mikey was the youngest of four boys—he’d always half slouched in his youth, waiting for one of his brothers to jump out of a hiding place and pounce on him. This man, though—the man walking into the barn--was no longer afraid of the shadows. By the look of it, he wasn’t afraid of anything at all, disappearing through the doorway with straight, broad shoulders squared to the world.Mikey was always a bar of gold, but even still, he’d changed for the better. Taken his gold and wrought it into a fine piece of jewelry; expensive and coveted. At least one of them did. “I feel like the deadbeat loser at my high-school reunion,” she muttered to Christie as they made their way to the ranch house. “He’s all handsome and grown up, on top of the world, and I’m working a college-level job primarily staffed with younger twenty-something-year-olds. Oh yeah, and without a place to live when I finish up, or a backup career, or a man…”Christie bumped into her playfully. “That guy is like a shining star. Don’t go trying to compete on his level. I mean, look at me. I’m in college, yes. But I’m not any good at it. In fact, I flunked a class last semester and have to take it over. My roommates rented my room out to someone else, so I’ll have to go live with the parents for a while. And, oh yeah, I always seem to go for creeps or unattainable rock stars. I’m not batting a-thousand over here.”“But you’re young and pretty…”“And a train wreck. Hot mess rings a bell. I showed up in school after a party once. Still had my party dress on. Hadn’t gone to sleep the night before. Got a date. I bet you can imagine how that turned out. Train. Wreck. You’re looking just fine from where I’m sittin’.” “That’s comforting,” Sara murmured with a smile.Christie shrugged. “Okay, now that the crisis of self-worth is over, I cannot believe you know Mike. Cannot believe it. From childhood!” Christie skipped over a log. “I am in awe.”“I can’t believe he’s here. How random is that? I haven’t seen the guy in a way over a decade. Crazy.”“Well, you have to get chummy so I can hit that.”“Didn’t you say he was on another level, and that you go for unattainable men…”“I have a short attention span. What?”Sara laughed and shook her head. “Man. He just… He’s all confident and awesome, and I’m still a pile of…me. I’m happy for him—don’t roll your eyes. He was like my brother; I want the best for him. But still, yeah, I failed at life. I’ll have to punch him for silently pointing it out.”“Well, I’m failing at life. As we speak. And guess what, you’re still super cool, and so am I. So if I turn out like you, I think I’m doing okay. Also, you keep saying brother. Does that mean you’re going to hook me up, or what?”Sara rolled her eyes and shoved a goofy-grinning Christie. “Ew. Since when do people set their friends up with siblings?”“But he’s not really your sibling…” Christie’s eyebrows waggled suggestively.“When we were kids, the guy slept in my bed half the week until he started puberty. He would’ve kept on but my mom put her foot down.”“Why? Did he cop a feel, the dirty dog?”Sara laughed and waved her hand at the thought. “Tried to shove me over to get more room, more like. No, she probably saw the winds changing and wanted to head it off. He had a crush on me at that point.” Sara couldn’t help but think back on it with fondness. “I was still a couple years away from those types of feelings, I think. At eleven, when he left, I was just starting to get interested in all that. I mean, like…you know…curious.”“Yes, Aunt Gertrude, I know about the birds and the bees. I get it. Girls mature faster than boys, too. You were probably a year away from playing doctor.”“We did that at, like, six. His was the first penis I ever saw. I literally pointed and laughed I thought it was so weird. I remember that clearly. He got so pissed off he stormed out of the house to make sure he had the same equipment his brothers did.”“No. I mean, the naughtier kind.”“Okay, this conversation is going downhill. Anyway, he probably counts his lucky stars he got out before the train wreck lost its breaks and took out a station.”“Hey, that’s my analogy!” “It fit. C’mon, let’s go brave the jerk twins.”Christie opened the door and ole’ed Sara through. “We need to work on your swearing. Jackass twins sounds better.”“Trucker.”“Saint.”Sara crinkled her nose as they entered the house. “How is that a bad thing?”“Except from eventually being burned at the stake, you mean? Good point. Saints were women behaving badly. I take that one back. Anyway, I definitely think God is bending down a helping hand on this one. You personally know the hottest triangle man in this whole outfit, with the best skills no less, and are roomies with the biggest bitch. I’ll sort you out and he’ll be great to lean on. Things are looking up.”Sara couldn’t help but laugh as they entered the kitchen and reached for aprons.
*****
“Mawch!” The little girl put her fisted hands on her hips as she studied a boy a few years older. “Mawch!”The little boy mimicked the little girl with hands on hips. His eyes dropped to her feet, stomping up and down where she stood.“Like dis.” She trudged off in front of him, stern and commanding. After a few steps, she glanced back to check his progress.“What are they doing?” the little girl’s mom, Pam, asked, an enchanted smile wrapping around her face as she watched her son following the little girl’s lead.“Marching.” Denise chuckled. “Sara learned it in pre-school. All the kids line up to go outside, with their hands on their hips, and march together.”“Wow, kind of uniform, huh?”Sara’s mom nodded as Sara’s fuzzy head of loose curls bent toward her playmate, adjusting his hands just so. “Organized and disciplined, but with plenty of praise. She’s doing really well there.”“How old is she now?”“Two-and-a-half. Young for pre-school, but it’s cheaper than daycare. Seems great, too. She really loves it. How old’s Mikey?” Denise sipped her glass of wine, noticing the little boy’s studious gaze as he worked to get the march down just right.“Kay. Mawch!” Sara nodded in command, leading the way across the living room with a stern face. Mikey followed immediately, just as serious. “Five. Almost six. And still doing whatever she tells him.” Both of the women laughed as Mikey trudged right behind Sara, mimicking the march perfectly. “He has a school full of kids his own age, and still he’d rather follow along after a girl half his age.” Pam shook her head. “Young love.”
Both the women started laughing again as they settled further into the couch to change topics.
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Get a list of all the released chapters here:
Surviving Love page
Surviving Love; Prologue
If you haven't read Chapter 1:
Surviving Love; Chapter 1
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Chapter 2
“C’mon, hurry!” Christie was bobbing in the doorway like a fishing lure in water, an excited smile glittering on her face.“It’s just orientation, right?” Sara asked, brushing out her wet hair. “Yeah, but the cowboys will be at this one! We get to see who’s got what so we know what we’re volunteering for.”“What do you mean, who’s got what?” Sara followed Christie out the door, swiping a strand of thick hair over her shoulder.“Each ranch hand or cowboy heads up different tasks. There are a couple really hot guys—I want to get on one of their teams this year. Last year I had to work for that stodgy Jake. Nice guy—I’ve heard—but you basically work the whole time in silence. Plus, he works you really hard. I mean…really hard.” She made a gesture like she was wiping sweat off her forehead.“So you want a cute guy you can stare at while you do not-a-lot?” Sara asked with a grin.“Exactly, and if you know what’s good for you, you will, too. Carrying trays with blisters is not fun!”Christie had a good point there.They stepped out the back of the house and crossed a patch of garden, the blooming flowers as beautiful as they were fragrant. Ducking through a cluster of large trees, they emerged into a circular clearing with a large fire pit surrounded by chairs.“This must be the fire pit Sam was talking about,” Sara mumbled to herself.“Oooh, you met Sam? He’s cute, isn’t he? I think he’s single, too. He had a girlfriend last year, but they were on the rocks. She didn’t like him leaving for three months. I think she gave him an ultimatum—if he came this year she’d break it off. Well…he’s here.”“It’d be hard to miss a loved one every year.”Christie shrugged with one shoulder as they neared a large, newly painted red barn. Murmurs floated out of the opened doors along with a soft glow of light. “True. Not saying I blame her, but him being available isn’t a bad thing. Speak of the devil.”They crossed the threshold and stepped toward a crowd of people, shifting and chatting as they waited for the meeting to begin. Leather and metal climbed the walls and littered shelves, equipment for horses and other livestock. Feed bags were stacked in the corners and hey was piled in a loft high up in the back. No animals housed in this barn, the stall doors had been taken off for storage of large, motored equipment. Sara had no idea what any of them were used for except the lawn mower, even though she hadn’t seen any lawn thus far. “Hey, Sam, good to see you again.” Christie gave him a jubilant hug. “So…you came back, huh?”“Hey Christie—and yes, you suppose correctly. Single again. I know you were going to hint until I finally admitted it,” Sam said in a dry voice.“Aw!” Christie made a pouty face. “Sorry to hear that. Sara’s newly single, too. It was a bad year for relationships. I wouldn’t know—I haven’t had a proper one in a while.”Sam’s gaze turned to Sara, his gaze holding hers for a moment. She felt her face heat and immediately pointed it toward the ground. She was way too old to be flushing like a tween every time this guy looked her way.“Sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice full of sympathy, and something else she didn’t want to identify. Uncomfortably, she took a step away. With so many things to fix in her life, she needed a break from anything male. Sam seemed sweet, but she had a feeling he wasn’t thinking about picket fences and roses when his gaze assessed her. And even if he was, she was too broken and beat up to view “happily ever after” the same way she used to. And that was before even noticing the obvious age gap…Christie must’ve noticed it, because she sidetracked the conversation with a whisper in an excited hush, “Oh, here come the triangle boys! Yee haw.” A cluster of stern-looking men entered the barn with confident strides. Lean and hard, their bodies bespoke a hard living in a wild environment. They were all incredibly in shape and very well defined.“What do you mean by ‘triangle guys’?” Sara asked in a low voice so they couldn’t hear. The pack walked down the middle of the aisle, getting deeper into the barn before stepping off to the side. “All their upper bodies look like upside-down triangles. You know, the broad shoulders and thin hips. Triangles.” Christie traced a triangle in the air with her fingers over one of the men’s robust upper body.“Okay, great, let’s start,” an older man in a white cowboy hat said as he climbed on a bale of hay so he could be seen. “Hello, everyone, I’m Dan, the owner of this ranch. For those of you who don’t know, this ranch has been in the family since 1916 when it was homesteaded as a land grant. Cattle and hay were raised until the 1930’s. About then we stepped back and took it all in. Because of our location—so close to the wilderness, with the abundance of wildlife—we decided to outfit for hunting. In the sixties, we took the next step, and built the dude ranch. We now entertain hunters, fisherman, survival enthusiasts, vacationers, and all others who want to visit an active ranch. We provide excellent service with safe and hands-on demonstrations. That’s why you are all here. We work together, all of us, to make sure our guests leave happy. A happy guest is a great marketer, not to mention an investment. We have a few families that visit every year. We try hard to keep them. Any questions?” The gathered crowd shuffled and looked around at each other, but no one spoke.“Great. I advise everyone to read their welcome pamphlet for the various rules. If you have any questions, please see one of the senior staff—““Who are you calling old?” a graying woman with an equally white cowboy hat hollered with her hands on her hips. She was standing next to Dan, but on the ground, facing the crowd with a beaming smile. Dan chuckled and bent down to put his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “This is May, my wife and co-owner. She gets prickly when you call her senior.”The crowd chuckled, more to play along with the vibrant couple—and bosses!—than because of the joke itself.“As I was saying, talk to one of the high-leveledstaff—“ Dan paused for May to nod, hands still on hips, “and we’ll take care of you. Now, for the volunteers.”It turned out there was actually a lot to volunteer for. They needed help all over the ranch, and instead of hiring more workers they offered free lessons or horse riding to those from the existing staff that helped. Being that Sara wanted to do all she could so as not to have down time, or, God forbid, alone time, she planned to volunteer for everything she possibly could.Unfortunately, that proved difficult. Every time something came up that didn’t interrupt her already assigned duties, it seemed like the whole place had their hands up. Ten minutes in and she hadn’t gotten picked for one task.“Okay, get ready to put up your hand!” Christie said halfway into the distribution of duties, excitement bubbling into her words. “They’re doing Mike’s stuff!”“I’ve been putting my hand up the whole time. And who’s Mike?” Sara asked as Dan yelled out for stall cleaning. Sara’s hand shot up alongside Christie’s. And every other girl in the place.“Christie mucking stalls? This I gotta see!” Dan chortled.“I don’t like poop,” Christie explained as Dan jotted her name down.Sara crinkled her nose. That made sense. “Who wants to chop wood?” Dan read off his clipboard.“Is this still Mi—“ Sara’s voice cut off as another wave of hands rose in the air. Christie grabbed Sara’s hand to raise it for her.“We’ll give wood chopping to Simon and Nash. The young always have so much energy.” Dan jotted down another name. “Okay that’s it for Mike this season. He has a higher enrollment this year, on account of being nationally acclaimed for his survival school. Let’s give him a round of applause!”The barn filled with clapping and cheering. A man standing to the side and slightly removed from the other triangle boys shifted uncomfortably.“He’ll be spending more time on that this year. We had to bring in trailers to house everyone that wants to room and board! Great work. Okay, on to Jake. He’ll need help with fence repair. I need three volunteers.” Sara’s hand shot up, desperate to be first. She needn’t have bothered—her hand was the only one in the air.“Oh, our newest staff member. Let’s give Sara a hand for the being the only person not afraid of a hard day’s work!” Dan laughed merrily. Almost as one unit, everyone in the barn turned to survey the red faced, blustering woman in the back of the barn.Spoiler alert: it was Sara, currently trying to shrink back between Sam and Christie. “Okay, two others. C’mon, you get free horse riding for the whole summer… Good man, Simon. And you, Paul? Think you can fit it in?”Sara noticed Paul staring at her chest as he said, “Yeah, I’m in.”“He’s so creepy!” Christie whispered with a sour face, staring at Paul. “He relentlessly hits on people and he stands way too close. I do not envy you, girl. Yuck.” “Great,” Dan continued, looking over his list. “Next, conditioning the leather equipment, also under Jake’s watchful eye. This can be done at any time—“Sara’s hand cut him off.“My goodness, I have a feeling Sara didn’t hear the rumors.” Dan’s eyes twinkled as he looked at Sara. He seemed to expect some sort of reply.As heads started turning toward her, she stammered out a, “Oh, uh…” She cleared her throat. “I just want to learn all I can, and it seems like everyone else beat me to it for the other stuff…”“Right you are! You have to start somewhere.” Dan jotted her name down. “And Jake knows all the in’s-and-out’s-- he’s the best. Okay, next…”“You are so going to regret that,” Christie commented, staring at the triangle boys. “Why is Mike staring at you?” Christie nudged Sara, making the other woman swivel her gaze away from her schedule to meet eyes the color of spun honey in a man a few years older than her with short, dark hair and a chiseled face. He looked vaguely familiar, as if she’d seen him passing in the street. She dipped her eyes back to her schedule as she shrugged. “I don’t know, but I really want to learn how to—“Sara’s hand cut through the air like an overanxious student sitting in the front row.“Tim and Shauntice, you can help with fire preparation.” Dan jotted the last of the names down. “Okay, that’s it for volunteers. Cooking staff, head in. We’ll have dinner at the Pit.”“Dang it, I only got those two things.” Sara crinkled her schedule as she tucked it into her back pocket. “Trust me, those two classes will seem like five! Oh my God…”Christie’s fingers wrapped around Sara’s wrist. Sara startled and looked up quickly, expecting a tornado coming their way, or something else equally as frightening and life threatened. Instead, her gaze met a wide expanse of muscular shoulder. In confusion, she titled her face upwards and met that golden-brown she’d seen before.“Hi Mike,” Christie said from beside Sara. The fingertips digging holes in Sara’s arm were starting to hurt.Mike’s gaze flicked toward Christie. He nodded before his focus settled back on Sara a moment later. “Sara Michaels, right?”“Um, yes?” she answered hesitantly.His expectant stare hinted that she was supposed to recognize him, somehow. Dutifully, she scanned his vaguely familiar face. High cheekbones and a narrow nose adorned his handsome and defined appearance, his strong jaw lending a distinctly masculine feel, enhanced by the small cleft in his chin. Large shoulders, pushed back in an unmistakable air of confidence, stretched his shirt to the point of comedy, the fabric taut over a defined chest and loosening up again as it flowed over a trim stomach. His charisma radiated out from beautiful, spun-honey eyes wrapped in a lush, black lashes, something models the world over would kill for. Completing the tableau was a strange sort of command in his baring, dominance almost—that, and a prestige which could only come with a silver spoon and a lingering case of Huge-Bank-Account-Idis. She shook her head with a rumbled brow. “Sorry…I don’t think I know you…”“I’m Mikey Frost,” he pushed. “Jack’s son. We grew up together…”All the thoughts fell out of Sara’s head. The world spun around her like vertigo. The face of the teenager in the back of his parent’s car flashed through her mind. She tried to fit the handsome man in front of her over the pudgy little boy she’d known.Her jaw dropped. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” She threw her arms around him, not believing it. She felt his answering squeeze, then wheezed as he nearly cracked a rib. “I haven’t seen you in… Jesus, how long has it been?”His lips quirked as he scrutinized her face. “A long time. Years and years.”“Not since you moved to—where was it? New Jersey?”“Connecticut.”“Right!” She slapped his arm, then hugged him again, so happy to have a good, solid memory from her past that didn’t hurt. Unbidden, tears sprang to her eyes, Mikey tied so closely to her heart strings from their past that the tug shook loose the pain. “Sorry,” she wiped furiously at her face. “Sorry! I just—it’s just so good to see you. We should have kept in touch.”“We were fourteen—well, I was fourteen. You were, what, twelve when I left?”“Eleven,” she said, scrubbing away another tear. “Still. I don’t know. You were like my brother. I missed you. I can’t believe you’re here! What a crazy coincidence.”“Sara, we should go…” Christie was staring after two larger people, women both, moving off toward the house. Mikey followed her gaze. “Christie’s right—Ethel and Florence won’t treat you well if you’re late.” His eyes once again settled on Sara’s face. “I’ll catch up with you at the Pit. We’re staying in the area tonight, so I’ll be around.” He took a step back to let her go.The familiar pull of him, directly out of their youth, had her lurching forward. “Wait!” She clutched his muscular arm. “I mean, obviously, yes. I need to go. But…”Her imploring eyes hit his, falling into that beautiful spun honey surrounded by black fringe—she remembered those eyes vividly now. As if she’d brushed off the haze of old memories, the past came surging back. And, strangely, with the memories rode her pink banana seat bike. Odd. Her heart thumped and another tear came to her eye, but not from Phil this time.“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” he said with a small smile, smoothing her hair. “I’m not leaving forever—never was, remember? I told you I’d see you again. And look, here I am. Magical.”Sara blurted out a laugh, spraying him with spit. “Ew, sorry. I spit.”“Yes. I am aware,” he said with a wry grin, wiping his face with his sleeve.She let escape a big sigh as Christie hopped from foot to foot. “I love reunions, I really do,” Christie muttered, “but seriously, Sara, the cooking twins are pure evil if you keep them waiting.”Sara nodded, her childhood memories floating around her, fitting the image of the awkward, pudgy boy over that of this poised, self-assured man. He was so different. So large and in charge. Grown up. But the center of him, the squishy middle, was still that little boy who loved to laugh and chase her around with slugs. She could feel that remembered closeness, just like back in the day. “Okay, well—God, it’s…I’m blown away. It is so good to see you, Mikey. Of all the jip-joints in all the dirty, tree covered areas, you had to walk into mine.” She grinned at him with a hand on his forearm.His mouth quirked harder, threatening a shy smile. He made like he was tipping an imaginary hat. “I’ll see you in a while.”“Sa—ra,” Christie said, bouncing impatiently. A glance at Christie had his smile beaming brighter. With a wink at Sara he turned, making his way back into the barn with purposeful, powerful strides. Mikey was the youngest of four boys—he’d always half slouched in his youth, waiting for one of his brothers to jump out of a hiding place and pounce on him. This man, though—the man walking into the barn--was no longer afraid of the shadows. By the look of it, he wasn’t afraid of anything at all, disappearing through the doorway with straight, broad shoulders squared to the world.Mikey was always a bar of gold, but even still, he’d changed for the better. Taken his gold and wrought it into a fine piece of jewelry; expensive and coveted. At least one of them did. “I feel like the deadbeat loser at my high-school reunion,” she muttered to Christie as they made their way to the ranch house. “He’s all handsome and grown up, on top of the world, and I’m working a college-level job primarily staffed with younger twenty-something-year-olds. Oh yeah, and without a place to live when I finish up, or a backup career, or a man…”Christie bumped into her playfully. “That guy is like a shining star. Don’t go trying to compete on his level. I mean, look at me. I’m in college, yes. But I’m not any good at it. In fact, I flunked a class last semester and have to take it over. My roommates rented my room out to someone else, so I’ll have to go live with the parents for a while. And, oh yeah, I always seem to go for creeps or unattainable rock stars. I’m not batting a-thousand over here.”“But you’re young and pretty…”“And a train wreck. Hot mess rings a bell. I showed up in school after a party once. Still had my party dress on. Hadn’t gone to sleep the night before. Got a date. I bet you can imagine how that turned out. Train. Wreck. You’re looking just fine from where I’m sittin’.” “That’s comforting,” Sara murmured with a smile.Christie shrugged. “Okay, now that the crisis of self-worth is over, I cannot believe you know Mike. Cannot believe it. From childhood!” Christie skipped over a log. “I am in awe.”“I can’t believe he’s here. How random is that? I haven’t seen the guy in a way over a decade. Crazy.”“Well, you have to get chummy so I can hit that.”“Didn’t you say he was on another level, and that you go for unattainable men…”“I have a short attention span. What?”Sara laughed and shook her head. “Man. He just… He’s all confident and awesome, and I’m still a pile of…me. I’m happy for him—don’t roll your eyes. He was like my brother; I want the best for him. But still, yeah, I failed at life. I’ll have to punch him for silently pointing it out.”“Well, I’m failing at life. As we speak. And guess what, you’re still super cool, and so am I. So if I turn out like you, I think I’m doing okay. Also, you keep saying brother. Does that mean you’re going to hook me up, or what?”Sara rolled her eyes and shoved a goofy-grinning Christie. “Ew. Since when do people set their friends up with siblings?”“But he’s not really your sibling…” Christie’s eyebrows waggled suggestively.“When we were kids, the guy slept in my bed half the week until he started puberty. He would’ve kept on but my mom put her foot down.”“Why? Did he cop a feel, the dirty dog?”Sara laughed and waved her hand at the thought. “Tried to shove me over to get more room, more like. No, she probably saw the winds changing and wanted to head it off. He had a crush on me at that point.” Sara couldn’t help but think back on it with fondness. “I was still a couple years away from those types of feelings, I think. At eleven, when he left, I was just starting to get interested in all that. I mean, like…you know…curious.”“Yes, Aunt Gertrude, I know about the birds and the bees. I get it. Girls mature faster than boys, too. You were probably a year away from playing doctor.”“We did that at, like, six. His was the first penis I ever saw. I literally pointed and laughed I thought it was so weird. I remember that clearly. He got so pissed off he stormed out of the house to make sure he had the same equipment his brothers did.”“No. I mean, the naughtier kind.”“Okay, this conversation is going downhill. Anyway, he probably counts his lucky stars he got out before the train wreck lost its breaks and took out a station.”“Hey, that’s my analogy!” “It fit. C’mon, let’s go brave the jerk twins.”Christie opened the door and ole’ed Sara through. “We need to work on your swearing. Jackass twins sounds better.”“Trucker.”“Saint.”Sara crinkled her nose as they entered the house. “How is that a bad thing?”“Except from eventually being burned at the stake, you mean? Good point. Saints were women behaving badly. I take that one back. Anyway, I definitely think God is bending down a helping hand on this one. You personally know the hottest triangle man in this whole outfit, with the best skills no less, and are roomies with the biggest bitch. I’ll sort you out and he’ll be great to lean on. Things are looking up.”Sara couldn’t help but laugh as they entered the kitchen and reached for aprons.
*****
“Mawch!” The little girl put her fisted hands on her hips as she studied a boy a few years older. “Mawch!”The little boy mimicked the little girl with hands on hips. His eyes dropped to her feet, stomping up and down where she stood.“Like dis.” She trudged off in front of him, stern and commanding. After a few steps, she glanced back to check his progress.“What are they doing?” the little girl’s mom, Pam, asked, an enchanted smile wrapping around her face as she watched her son following the little girl’s lead.“Marching.” Denise chuckled. “Sara learned it in pre-school. All the kids line up to go outside, with their hands on their hips, and march together.”“Wow, kind of uniform, huh?”Sara’s mom nodded as Sara’s fuzzy head of loose curls bent toward her playmate, adjusting his hands just so. “Organized and disciplined, but with plenty of praise. She’s doing really well there.”“How old is she now?”“Two-and-a-half. Young for pre-school, but it’s cheaper than daycare. Seems great, too. She really loves it. How old’s Mikey?” Denise sipped her glass of wine, noticing the little boy’s studious gaze as he worked to get the march down just right.“Kay. Mawch!” Sara nodded in command, leading the way across the living room with a stern face. Mikey followed immediately, just as serious. “Five. Almost six. And still doing whatever she tells him.” Both of the women laughed as Mikey trudged right behind Sara, mimicking the march perfectly. “He has a school full of kids his own age, and still he’d rather follow along after a girl half his age.” Pam shook her head. “Young love.”
Both the women started laughing again as they settled further into the couch to change topics.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Get a list of all the released chapters here:
Surviving Love page
June 27, 2014
Gay Pride Parade
Everyone is always super excited for the gay pride parade. That’s because they don’t live in San Francisco.
That sounded bad. Let’s take a step back so we’re on the same page.
I don’t care about sexual orientation. Not that I like it or hate it—I just don’t care. Same sex, crazy sex, three people, whatever--do what you want. And whatever you do, I’ve probably seen it live on the streets of San Francisco. Or in a family-type parade. Or the Bay to Breakers. Or a park. Or, hell, randomly on a Wednesday. This city is alive with art and color and food and insanity. People here are open as all get-up, and any sort of conservative nature you have will start to erode away upon arrival.
So, no, I’m worried about the gay pride parade because of the gay people. Not at all.
Is it the civil rights, you ask? Well, dumb question, obviously. I’m a woman. My ‘kind’ couldn’t vote until 1920. Marriage wasn’t the joining of two equals, it was the transfer of property, hence the last name change. We still have set roles, double standards, glass ceilings and societal pressure to be a certain way. It would be a little shallow of me to push for equality for only myself.
So as far as civil rights, you want to vote—well, I hope you’re intelligent. Own land, fine. Get married—are you sure you want to? Because it’s not the “happily ever after” they sell in the brochures. It’s freaking harder than being single, I’ll tell you that much. You still do? Then I hope you stay together. Or not. Actually, I don’t really care—I’ve got my own problems.
Right, so bottom line, if you’re gay, I don’t care. I have gay friends and gay family members—that side of things doesn’t bother me. I’m excited to celebrate equality and give a thumbs up to people being who they are. That gives me warm fuzzies.
My groaning is for the actual parade. The one specifically in San Francisco, the land of ‘anything goes’. Pride parade one day, and the Love Parade the next.
I just got a flash back of a bunch of men in a circle, right in front of city hall, having a circle jerk. I am not kidding—this is something I have seen. One guy giving another a blow job? Yup. A woman leading a man around by a collar? Absolutely.
You see, gay pride and the love parade are green lights for crazy. It’s about the celebration—which I am totally into. I love an excuse to party. But in this town, that party gets crazy.
CRAZY!
I wasn’t kidding-- anything goes. Literally anything. Nudity is commonplace. I’m over that. It’s the crazy sex I walk by that I can’t help gawk at. It’s the absolutely tiny penises being stroked right next to the beer stand. Or the float of screaming naked people with oil and glitter and erections.
It. Is. Insane.
And usually this insanity would bring a smile to my face. I love people going balls-to-the-walls, and gay men can really do it up. But this year—not feeling it. I saw an advertisement for the parade and sighed. I’m just not in the mood. Maybe next year I’ll strap on some rainbows, or a corset, and head to the parade with my kid in tow—yeah, kids go, too—but this year I am going to sit it out.
I hope it’s not because I’m getting old…
Right, maybe I’ll have to go to prove I’m not old. But you know what, if men insist on showing their tiny penis, I am totally going to point out the size issue. So there!
That sounded bad. Let’s take a step back so we’re on the same page.
I don’t care about sexual orientation. Not that I like it or hate it—I just don’t care. Same sex, crazy sex, three people, whatever--do what you want. And whatever you do, I’ve probably seen it live on the streets of San Francisco. Or in a family-type parade. Or the Bay to Breakers. Or a park. Or, hell, randomly on a Wednesday. This city is alive with art and color and food and insanity. People here are open as all get-up, and any sort of conservative nature you have will start to erode away upon arrival.
So, no, I’m worried about the gay pride parade because of the gay people. Not at all.
Is it the civil rights, you ask? Well, dumb question, obviously. I’m a woman. My ‘kind’ couldn’t vote until 1920. Marriage wasn’t the joining of two equals, it was the transfer of property, hence the last name change. We still have set roles, double standards, glass ceilings and societal pressure to be a certain way. It would be a little shallow of me to push for equality for only myself.
So as far as civil rights, you want to vote—well, I hope you’re intelligent. Own land, fine. Get married—are you sure you want to? Because it’s not the “happily ever after” they sell in the brochures. It’s freaking harder than being single, I’ll tell you that much. You still do? Then I hope you stay together. Or not. Actually, I don’t really care—I’ve got my own problems.
Right, so bottom line, if you’re gay, I don’t care. I have gay friends and gay family members—that side of things doesn’t bother me. I’m excited to celebrate equality and give a thumbs up to people being who they are. That gives me warm fuzzies.
My groaning is for the actual parade. The one specifically in San Francisco, the land of ‘anything goes’. Pride parade one day, and the Love Parade the next.
I just got a flash back of a bunch of men in a circle, right in front of city hall, having a circle jerk. I am not kidding—this is something I have seen. One guy giving another a blow job? Yup. A woman leading a man around by a collar? Absolutely.
You see, gay pride and the love parade are green lights for crazy. It’s about the celebration—which I am totally into. I love an excuse to party. But in this town, that party gets crazy.
CRAZY!
I wasn’t kidding-- anything goes. Literally anything. Nudity is commonplace. I’m over that. It’s the crazy sex I walk by that I can’t help gawk at. It’s the absolutely tiny penises being stroked right next to the beer stand. Or the float of screaming naked people with oil and glitter and erections.
It. Is. Insane.
And usually this insanity would bring a smile to my face. I love people going balls-to-the-walls, and gay men can really do it up. But this year—not feeling it. I saw an advertisement for the parade and sighed. I’m just not in the mood. Maybe next year I’ll strap on some rainbows, or a corset, and head to the parade with my kid in tow—yeah, kids go, too—but this year I am going to sit it out.
I hope it’s not because I’m getting old…
Right, maybe I’ll have to go to prove I’m not old. But you know what, if men insist on showing their tiny penis, I am totally going to point out the size issue. So there!
Review: Queen and Commander by Janine A. Southard
Queen and Commander by Janine A. Southard(Hive Queen Saga #1)
Genre: Science Fiction, Young AdultReviewer: KF Breene
Amazon | Goodreads
**WINNER 2013 IPPY AWARD -- Silver Medal for Best Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Horror E-Book**
On a world where high school test scores determine your future, six students rebel. They’ll outrun society as fast as their questionably obtained spaceship will take them.
Rhiannon doesn’t technically cheat the Test. She’s smarter than the computers that administer it, and she uses that to her advantage. She emerges from Test Day with the most prestigious future career possible: Hive Queen.
Gwyn & Victor are madly in love, but their Test results will tear them apart. Good thing Rhiannon is Gwyn’s best friend. Rhiannon can fix this. Queens can do anything.
Gavin is the wild card. Raised off-planet, he can’t wait to leave again... and he’s heard of an empty ship in orbit. The Ceridwen’s Cauldron.
Both Luciano and Alan fit in the system. They don’t need to leave. Only their devotion to Rhiannon spurs them to join the Cauldron’s crew.
Spaceships. Blackmail. Anywhere but here.
With this book, we enter into a society where the future is determined by tests after schooling is finished. Rhiannon, the heroine of the story, manages to beat the test, something that is supposed to be impossible, and lands herself in her dream job: Queen and Commander. Unfortunately, the glory of this, and the chosen path, is short lived.
Rhiannon's best, and mostly only, friend tested into a different fate, which would've been fine for her, and brought honor to her family, if not for her boyfriend and love, Victor. With the goal of staying together, an impossibility in a normal situation, they plead for Rhiannon to develop a hive, command a ship, and create their own world where star-crossed lovers can remain together.
Of course, it isn't as easy as that. We follow Rhiannon's journey as she collects people together, binds them through struggle, and manages to secure her own fate, and the fates of her friends.
The world was interesting in this book, and the take on a new society fun to explore. I also enjoyed the relationships and how the different personalities worked together--or didn't work, at times. Altogether an interesting read!
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June 25, 2014
Review: This Year’s Black by Avery Flynn
This Year's Black by Avery FlynnGenre: RomanceReviewer: Sally Sparrow
A fighter since birth, Allegra "Ryder" Falcon would rather trade in her all-black wardrobe for head-to-toe hot pink than let anyone ever see the cracks in her tough exterior. But one night with a stranger changes everything.
Devin Harris may have given up his MMA fighting dreams for high fashion, but that doesn't mean he isn't always in control. So when someone embezzles millions under his watch, he isn't going to let the private investigator working the case go it alone--even if she is the woman who
blew him away in bed and then blew him off.
Just when it seems like it couldn't get any hotter between Ryder and Devin, the case takes them to a tropical paradise where the danger increases. From the catwalk to the pineapple fields, they have to work together to track down the missing millions before the thief finds--and kills--them.
For whatever reason, I started following author Avery Flynn on Facebook. Maybe she is a friend of a friend? Really, I haven‘t a clue how I found her. Anyway, she has been heavily promoting her new book and seems to think it totally rocks. As she seems normal enough, and I was very intrigued by the title - what does that even mean?? - I decided to give it a try.
Overall, it is a pretty good book. Ryder the ass-kicking forensic accountant, and Devin the rich boy turned MMA fighter turned department store executive, make a great couple. Having them hook up for a single night before the story even begins is a nice set-up for a love conflict, and not one usually employed. The crime-solving aspect, the fashion world setting, the traveling to an exotic locale all make for a fun read. It’s a simple, fluffy romance, masquerading as an action novel. Oh, and there is loads of sexual chemistry, and some very hot sex.
The forward story is written fairly well. The backstory, however, is not. The book reads as if the author just plugged information into dialogue to bring the reader up to speed. The first conversation in the entire book is one in which the two characters present announce the age of the other person. “You’re too cynical for a 25 year old,” he says, and she responds by also listing a quality of his and stating his age. Who speaks like that?
Later in chapter one, Ryder has a conversation with her brother in which they both repeatedly state their relationship. I am positive that both little sister Ryder and big brother Tony are well aware they are siblings and do not require reiteration of this point in conversation. Repeatedly.
The worst example of this telling through unnecessary dialogue is with Ryder and her friends, at a coffee shop. The scene involves only her two besties and her, yet when they get on the topic of Ryder’s last Terrible Boyfriend, the two friends give a detailed account of what was bad about the relationship and what ultimately ended it. As if they are telling this to someone unfamiliar with the story instead of to Ryder herself. What is most puzzling about this exchange is how thoroughly unnecessary it is. A few chapters later the story of Ryder and her crappy ex is revealed in a smoother and more appropriate manner. Why then bother with the strange coffee shop conversation?
The main story is written pretty well so why the author used such a clunky method to fill in these blanks is beyond me. I think she can do better.
I also think she needs a new proofreader, because it is “guerilla” warrior, not “gorilla” warrior. Right in the middle of a serious scene, the precursor to the climactic battle, and I get an image of two apes bashing each other. Which is not at all what actually happens in the final battle scene, btw. I thought the mistake was funny, and then (regretfully) wondered what gorilla warfare would actually entail. It is much more gruesome and disturbing than I expected.
Avery Flynn shows promise as a writer, and I am hoping she steps up her game in the future. The badass romance novel heroine is a favorite character of mine, and seems to be Ms. Flynn’s specialty. If she works past that telling conversation mud pit I will happily join the ranks of her fans.
3 stars
June 23, 2014
Surviving Love, Chapter 1
If you haven't read the prologue or synopsis, you can find it here:
Surviving Love; Prologue
Chapter 1
Sara sat at the picnic table in the bright sunlight, her head bowed over her hands. Within her fingers twirled a broken promise, the sun glinting merrily off of its solitary diamond. The ring stopped in its movement for a moment so she could reach up and wipe away a tear.She and Phil had been high-school sweethearts, their love maturing through college. After graduation the ring had been slipped on her finger as sweet words of devotion rang through her ears. She couldn’t ever remember being happier; more loved.Their first house had been perfect. It was a small rental nestled in a suburb. It’d been all they could afford at the time, but it didn’t matter. They were just starting their careers—a little saving and they could afford a bigger place. After that she wanted to start a family and finally get her happily ever after. Life was just beginning. Her days were filled with planning and hope.Four years later they still hadn’t moved. Tiny warnings were sounding off in Sara’s mind, but she still wasn’t overly worried. She still had plenty of time for kids. The wedding would come when they saved a bit more, and so would the house. She’d finally get a chubby little gift of joy when they were all settled in. Plans were delayed, sure, but still progressing.The breakup had blind-sighted her. Turned her world inside-out.When he’d said he wanted to talk, she’d thought it was because he wanted to take the New Age approach and consent to a baby before they made their marriage official. She had the ring, what did the slip of paper matter?No—he was trading her in for a younger version of herself. One without the few gray hairs and softly etched laugh lines. Sara was only thirty, but the steep credit card debt and her fiancé’s frivolous spending had her constantly worried, and the stress hadn’t been kind; her face was now weathered and jaded, and her outlook on life wasn’t much better. Stood up beside a twenty-two year old, she didn’t have a chance.Which was why she didn’t both arguing—at least, not beyond the first plunge of desperation. What would she say to win him back? She had no tricks up her sleeves—nothing left to offer him.Phil had moved out that night. With a few items he couldn’t leave behind, he’d left for the apartment he’d set up with his new finace. He’d let Sara keep the ring, and gave her the duty of packing everything up—she could barely afford the house with him, they both knew she couldn’t afford to stay there on her own. She’d watched out the window as he got into his new car and drove away, never once checking his rear view mirror to say goodbye to the life he was leaving behind.Her head bent a little lower over the picnic table. She just hadn’t seen it coming. But there was no use crying about it now. Best to move on.Shaking her head, she heaved herself off the bench and slipped the reminder of failed promises into her jean’s pocket. No, tears wouldn’t bring him back. And even if they would, she didn’t want him anymore, anyway. She had a person to find within herself somewhere, and it would start today.As the large airport shuttle rolled to a stop, she stepped forward, her bus ticket in hand, her plane ticket in her purse, and her life just beginning. But for reals this time.
A few hours later Sara was walking out of baggage claim with her duffle bag in her hand, a smile on her face, and her heart on her sleeve. She’d start her new life in her childhood dream location—Montana. Known for its sweeping landscape and vast beauty, she’d always wanted to set up a cute house with a couple horses and a ton of land. She had no idea what she’d do for money, but so what. The word practical was for people whose “happily ever after” didn’t go down in flames. Chasing dreams were now the top priority, and she couldn’t wait to get started. “You Sara?”Sara’s gaze swung past people making their way to the exit of the airport terminal and spied a man standing off to the side. He held a half-sheet of paper near his chest with her name written in a spidery scrawl. His crumpled tweed hat sat lopsided on his graying head. The dirt stained fingers holding the paper matched his old blue jeans, complimented by worn work boots.A thrill accosted her as she stepped over, nervousness mingling with hope as she beamed in greeting. “Yup! Yes I am. Are you from the ranch?” He jerked his head to the right as he reached for her duffle. “Oh, it’s okay. I got it.”Nothing changed in his posture; his hand remained poised in the air, waiting for her to hand it over. “Oh…um, okay.” Gingerly, feeling sheepish, she gave him the crisp blue duffle bag, still creased from when it hung in the store a few days previous.Without a word, he turned toward the exit. “Thanks for coming for me. I really appreciate it!” Sara chirped as she jogged to catch up. They stepped through the smudged sliding glass doors of the exit and onto the outside sidewalk. With a slow pace speaking of great patience, the man walked to a truck idling nosily by the curb twenty feet away. Beaten to hell with the dents to show for it, the faded blue vehicle sat empty, waiting for its owner to return like a beloved Labrador.“Aren’t you worried your truck will get stolen?” Sara asked, sparing a glance for the people and cars passing by. The man eased her duffle into the truck bed before heading to the driver’s side door. “Ain’t no one’s stole it yet. Reckon it’s too old.” Made sense.Sara yanked the passenger door open before climbing onto the flat bench seat. The foam showed through various rips and holes, kept from ripping further with duct tape. She pulled her door closed, only to have it bounce off the metal casing with a loud clang.“Gotta slam it.”With two hands she tried again, giving it all her weight. This time the whole truck shook as the door lodged in place.“You in?” The man’s pale blue gaze slid her way.“Uh, I think so…” she dug her hand into the crack of the seat for the latch to her seatbelt.“Seat belt don’t work.”Al-righty, then.Rivaling most rocket jets for noise, the truck lurched forward and lumbered into the street. “Anyway, thanks again for coming to get me. It was really nice of you—I didn’t catch your name…” Sara let the sentence linger in expectation.“Jake.”“Oh hi, Jake. Thanks for picking me up.”Jake had one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his knee, looking out through the cracked windshield. He didn’t nod in acknowledgement of her thanks or make any indication that she’d spoken. “Um, I’m Sara,” she tried, reaching for something to say. Then laughed to herself. “But then, you already know that, I guess. I mean, you wrote it on the sign, so…”Her words drifted through the cab, unclear as to if they found a home. Jake continued to stare at the road in front of them. She cleared her throat, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to get rid of, and clasped her hands in her lap. Intending to remain quiet, since that seemed to be his default setting, she watched the lush green landscape drift by, the giant blue sky looming over them beautifully.“So far Montana looks as beautiful as everyone says it is.” She’d never been very good at the Silence Game. “Have you been here long?”“All my life.”She nodded to indicate she’d picked up that little nugget of information, then directed her gaze back out the passenger window, trying to be respectful of the silence he seemed to covet. The problem was, that ring weighed more than a bag of rocks. It dragged down her pocket, directing and capturing all her thoughts. With muteness being the playground for bad memories, Sara tried again. “I’m from Nevada. About an hour outside Reno. You ever been to Reno?”“Nope.”Nodding again, eyes scanning the increasingly sparse landscape, she continued with, “Yeah, Reno used to be a big tourist spot, but not so much anymore. Vegas is the big attraction now. Oh, there’s a few shows now and again, but nothing like it used to be. You ever been to Vegas?”“Nope.” Jake leaned forward to look out his side window, trying to glimpse behind the truck since his driver’s side mirror was cracked and half gone. He flicked on the turn signal, the rhythmic clicking drowning out the cab. All too soon the action of the lane change ceased and they were dunked in silence once again.Sara grimaced comically to herself, flapping her eyebrows, trying to will movement to fill the empty space. It didn’t work. She stared at the looming clouds; puffy white with hints of gray dotting the large blue canvas. Very pretty, but not all together distracting. She switched her gaze to the green shrubberies and yellow flowered weeds at the side of the road. Even the weeds were green and lovely. Not like Nevada. All one saw there was brown; sand and dirt housing huge box stores with low prices.As they inevitably did, her thoughts got caught in the whirlpool that was her life’s change, sucking down into her pocket where that ring waited. Did he buy the new fiancé a bigger diamond? One that sparkled more? And how did he get the credit if Sara didn’t co-sign? Did his deadbeat friend, Aaron, help him out somehow with stolen credit cards? That guy had gotten Phil into a ton of trouble over the years, getting him involved in pyramid schemes and bad deals. Also gotten him hooked on drugs for a few year stretch. Sara had bailed Phil out of the financial issues and bled tears trying to get him off of crack. Trying to help him keep his job when things got really bad. Lying for him. And for what? All that, for what?She dragged her thoughts back into the present. It didn’t matter. That had happened, and yes, it was a speed bump in her life, but only a quitter let it drag her down. She wouldn’t let him beat her. “Do you work at the ranch?” Sara asked absently.“I take care of the horses and livestock. Organize the help.”“Oh wow! Cool! I’ve never ridden a horse, so that should be fun, I hope. I think my real job is waitressing and helping in the kitchen a little, but we get to volunteer on the dude ranch, so I will definitely do that. I want to learn all I can this summer. I’m really excited!”They were leaving the city now, green rolling hills and bright blue sky seemingly stretching to infinity. Jake kept the same pose, one hand on his knee, one on the wheel. His faded blue eyes stared straight ahead.The motor droned on.Would Phil actually go through the marriage this time? Or would he trade this new girl for a younger one when she started to show her age, too?Sara’s fists tightened, dragging her thoughts away from that subject again. “Is there a large staff at this place? Are there many tourists that come through?”Jake took a deep breath, the hand on his knee jerking absently. Like the old car he was driving, his speech slowly rolled to a start. “We got us a nice little ranch with room for about fifteen families. Not too many house staff—you ‘n another gal, plus two cooks. Then the ranch hands. I look after them. They’ll tell you all you need to hear at the meetin’ tomorra.”He said “tomorrow” like her grandparents did, stripping down the ending and filling it back up with a pleasant “ah” sound. A weight settled in Sara’s chest as a brief flash of homesickness overwhelmed her. Followed by a burst of pain when she realized she no longer had a home. Not one of her own. She’d sold everything in the house except for some clothes, got the deposit back, and paid off, then cancelled, all their credit cards. She sold the car out from under Phil a week later, paying off a gambling debt that he’d kindly fastened her name to as a co-signer, and closed that account, too. But then, he had a new car now. Somehow. Still, she was debt free for the first time in a very long time. She had nothing to do now but look forward. The first day of the rest of my life.
An hour later the rusty old truck climbed a mountain road into landscape that literally took Sara’s breath away. Green shone through the truck’s windows, scaling the sides of the roads before dropping away and landing on a valley floor far below. She could just make out a crystal blue river shimmering as it ran through the valley. Snowcapped mountains rose in the distance, framed by a sky so expansive she could almost see heaven peeking down at her. “It’s beautiful!” she breathed.Jake stopped the truck a hundred yards from a wooden archway over the road, the vaulted sign reading, “Triple T Ranch.” Where two stylized tree trunks rose to meet the arch, deer antlers were fastened, making a rustic greeting post. It was also kind of gross—the only hunting Sara had ever done was through a grocery store meat section. But she was intrigued. She wanted to learn more; to get to a point where it wasn’t gross.Jake was looking over the side of the steep mountain drop into the curving and spreading valley below. She realized he wasn’t acting as a tour guide, and didn’t intend to explain what they were looking at. He was sharing her moment. Allowing her to take a second and marvel at the beauty even though he probably saw all this a few times a day.The man didn’t say much, but she had a feeling his soul went deep. A moment later the truck wheezed to a start again, coughing up the remainder of the hill to a collection of low, squatting log buildings nestled between the trees. There was a main house, it looked like, large and sprawling, with baby log houses spreading out behind it, lost to the foliage. Sara hopped out as the truck rocked to a stop, ready to retrieve her duffle bag from the stoic ranch hand. Instead, she followed like a puppy as he shouldered it and walked to the house, spying someone coming out of the main entrance and gesturing him over.“What’s up, Jake?” a guy in his twenties said with a bobbing head. He had spikey hair and a cute, boyish face. His gaze swept past Jake and landed on Sara. His smile flicked brighter. “Hi. I’m Sam.”“Hi. Sara.” Sara followed up her name with a shy smile and a red face. The only flirting she’d really done was with Phil when she was sixteen. After that, she was pretty much spoken for. Until now.Time to strengthen up and meet some guys. Well…soon, anyway. Maybe. “She’s house staff,” Jake said, transferring the pack to the new guy. He turned to Sara and tipped his head. “Welcome.” He was in his truck a moment later, the engine roaring as it drove away around the house.“Hi, again. Welcome,” Sam repeated with a big smile. “C’mon, I’ll show you the way. Where you from?”“A small town outside Reno—I can carry my pack if you want.”Sam led her along a wide porch wrapping around the large house. “Nah, I got it. I’ve been to Reno—neat. So, this is the main house. This is where the guests congregate. You’ll stay in the back with the house staff. Staff doesn’t use the front entrance—that’s reserved for guests only. They gawk. We use this one—“ Sam held a door open at the back of the house.As Sara ducked through, she was greeted with pretty basic décor. Cream walls with a few pictures of landscape—probably Montana’s. There were a few couches, a coffee table, and a medium flat screen TV. No people. “This is the rec room for staff. You’re here, what, four or five months?” Sam asked, pausing just inside the doorway.Sara answered as she had a look around, “Yes. The summer for guests and then a month or so to help shut it down.”“Cool. I’m only here the summer. Anyway, this is the room everyone hangs out in when they have some time off and want to be inside. Usually we’re outside, though. I’ll show you the fire pit, later. You’re through here…”They entered a hallway off of the main room and turned right, passing a stagnant industrial kitchen with a long, wooden table.“We eat in the kitchen, or, again, outside. Most things we do are outside, for obvious reasons. I mean, Montana is much too pretty to be inside all the time, right?”“Where do you sleep?” Sara asked, noticing them approaching two rooms up ahead.“What? Already planning to seduce me?”Sara again ducked her head in embarrassment, only realizing how it sounded after it had left her mouth.“Relax!” Sam laughed. “I’m just kidding. Look at your face—you’d think I caught you naked!” He laughed again as he stopped in front of an open door. “I stay in the West bunker. The outside seasonal staff stay together there. There are more of us. That way we’re closer to our duties, and you’re closer to yours.”She smiled through a red face. “Got it. What do you do?”“I assist the survival expert. Some other duties, but mostly with him.”“What’s a survival expert?”Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh, man! It’s cool. He teaches you how to survive in the wild. Like if you get lost, or something bad happens and you’re stranded—I get to assist him. I help him teach people how to do it. He has a couple books out and everything. People come here specifically to take his classes!”“Oh, wow. Sounds neat.”He smiled like a little boy at Christmas. “It is. This is my second year as the assistant. He only picks one, so…”“Congratulations.”“Yeah.” Sam bobbed his head proudly. “Alright, well,” he paused long enough for her to turn her face toward him. His eyes were twinkling as they beheld her, smiling down in good humor. “I really hope you like it here. I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ve been here a few seasons in a row—in another year I’ll graduate college and then I’ll have to get a real job.” He laughed. “Anyway, I pretty much know how things run. Just let me know if you need anything.”He paused, his gaze holding hers. “Again with the red face—I must need to tone down my exuberance, huh?” Sam smiled and put a warm hand on her shoulder. “Okay, then, see ya!”She needed to get a tan, that was her only option. If she got embarrassed every time a guy talked to her, she’d need to hide the flush. Being that she was the shade of milk, always hiding from the too hot Nevada sun, her skin was unused to color. Which made Operation: Hide My Ridiculousness that much harder.Shaking her head and taking a lung filling breath, she dragged her pack into the room and surveyed her new sleeping quarters. Two twin beds, one on each side of the room, with two nightstands between them, separating the two. A dresser hugged the wall at the end of each bed, and a tiny closet held additional blankets, pillows, and one ironing board. Off their room was a bathroom with a shower, toilet and sink. There wasn’t much, but it was all anybody would need.Before Sara could pick a bed, a young woman, probably mid-twenties, bounded into the room with a giant smile and flashing eyes. “Hi! Oh my God, you must be Sara! I’m Christie. I’m your roommate. Yay!” She clapped excitedly and glanced around the room. “Right or left?”“What?” Sara asked dumbly.Christie turned her brilliant blue eyes on Sara. “Which side? Can I take the right? I always seem to veer that way.”“Oh, yeah, sure.” Sara stepped backward so the animated young woman could step in front of her, her athletic frame gliding toward her bed, making her blond ponytail bob jovially.The woman couldn’t have been more Sara’s opposite in appearance. With brown hair flowing down her back in a straight sheet, and brown eyes to match, Sara had always been about average. Average height, build and appearance. Lately she was a little too thin, the result of depression from her life’s change, but usually she had enough curve to make finding pants difficult, but not too much that she could be called voluptuous. Basically, that in-between body type where nothing fit right and shopping took all day. Average.“This is my second season, so I’m still fairly new,” Christie was saying as she began neatly tucking clothing into her dresser drawers. “But I know most of the usual suspects, so I’m good to have around. I’m a waitress slash helper, like you, which really just means we do all the hard work while the cooks make bread. Don’t try to befriend them. They’ve been here forever and are as mean as alley cats. You here for the whole time?” Christie shot a glance back at Sara, awaiting the answer.Sara, taking that as a cue to stop staring like a stalker, jumped toward her own dresser, tripping over her duffle bag and staggering to the drawers. When she steadied herself, she noticed Christie had stopped in her unpacking with a small smile, watching the entertainment.“I want to be there when you ride your first horse.” Christie laughed and turned back to her task, shaking her head.“I am, yes,” Sara managed. “Here for the whole stretch, I mean.”“Me, too! A lot of people are just here for the summer, then they go back to school. What are you going back to?”Despondency settled on Sara like ashes. The future gaped at her, bleak and desolate. “Not sure. I…sorta…well…” A mutinous tear leaked out of her eye.“Oh, honey.” Christie crossed the room in a flash, gently coaxing Sara back to the bed to sit. “A man, huh?”Sara furrowed her brow as more tears sprung up, hating herself for breaking down. It always seemed that relationship pain was stored right near the surface—any tiny thing set it boiling over. “H-how did you know?” she sniffed.Christie gave her a sympathetic smile. “I recognize that guy-hurt. My first love dumped me when he left for college. Crushed me. But you know what? I was better off! He went wild and nearly got kicked out of school, whereas I got top grades. After the first year to feel sorry for myself, I put my head up and soldiered on! I don’t need someone like that, you know? How long ago did you break up?”“About five months.”She tsk’ed. “And how long were you together?”Sink or swim. Sara pulled out the ring and showed it to Christie. “Since I was sixteen. Fourteen years. He left me for a cute little intern in his office who looked just like me. He’d been seeing her for a year behind my back.”Christie rubbed Sara’s back. “This may be a stupid question, but… you didn’t know?”Sara shook her head. “No clue. People say you always know when your man is cheating, but I had no idea. He gambled a lot, though, so…”“Ah. Then he was cheating long before he met that girl. A gambling habit, or any addiction, can be just like a mistress. The addict lies about it, spends long hours away, sneaks—you’re better off. Or is it too soon?” Christie’s searching expression roved Sara’s face. The younger woman nodded in sympathy with the resolve she must’ve found in Sara’s expression. “Definitely better off. And a good move, too, coming here. It’s so much fun. Plus, you get paid to basically hang out on a dude ranch! People spend good money to come to these places, and you’re getting paid to do it! Free food, rent—all you have to do is a little back-breaking, sweat-wrenching work, and then voila, paradise!”Sara barked out a watery laugh, mopping up her face. “I told myself no more crying.”“Eh.” Christie bounded up, back to her unpacking. “Be easy on yourself, girlie. Cry when you feel like it, laugh when you want to, put your faith in God and let Him take the lead. It was a long time, and heartbreak sucks rocks--don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”“What are you, a motivational speaker?”Christie laughed, a free, inhibited sound. “I was a guidance counselor, actually. I did summer camp work before I came here.”With the briefest of a smile peeping through, Sara unzipped her duffle bag. She’d felt better in that moment than she had in the last three years. Maybe this change was a good one. Maybe Phil had done them both a favor. Determination steeling her resolve, she decided that, yes, he had. Sara would make this summer memorable. She would carve out her new life how she wanted to. Starting with something as simple as smiling more often.
Surviving Love; Prologue
Chapter 1
Sara sat at the picnic table in the bright sunlight, her head bowed over her hands. Within her fingers twirled a broken promise, the sun glinting merrily off of its solitary diamond. The ring stopped in its movement for a moment so she could reach up and wipe away a tear.She and Phil had been high-school sweethearts, their love maturing through college. After graduation the ring had been slipped on her finger as sweet words of devotion rang through her ears. She couldn’t ever remember being happier; more loved.Their first house had been perfect. It was a small rental nestled in a suburb. It’d been all they could afford at the time, but it didn’t matter. They were just starting their careers—a little saving and they could afford a bigger place. After that she wanted to start a family and finally get her happily ever after. Life was just beginning. Her days were filled with planning and hope.Four years later they still hadn’t moved. Tiny warnings were sounding off in Sara’s mind, but she still wasn’t overly worried. She still had plenty of time for kids. The wedding would come when they saved a bit more, and so would the house. She’d finally get a chubby little gift of joy when they were all settled in. Plans were delayed, sure, but still progressing.The breakup had blind-sighted her. Turned her world inside-out.When he’d said he wanted to talk, she’d thought it was because he wanted to take the New Age approach and consent to a baby before they made their marriage official. She had the ring, what did the slip of paper matter?No—he was trading her in for a younger version of herself. One without the few gray hairs and softly etched laugh lines. Sara was only thirty, but the steep credit card debt and her fiancé’s frivolous spending had her constantly worried, and the stress hadn’t been kind; her face was now weathered and jaded, and her outlook on life wasn’t much better. Stood up beside a twenty-two year old, she didn’t have a chance.Which was why she didn’t both arguing—at least, not beyond the first plunge of desperation. What would she say to win him back? She had no tricks up her sleeves—nothing left to offer him.Phil had moved out that night. With a few items he couldn’t leave behind, he’d left for the apartment he’d set up with his new finace. He’d let Sara keep the ring, and gave her the duty of packing everything up—she could barely afford the house with him, they both knew she couldn’t afford to stay there on her own. She’d watched out the window as he got into his new car and drove away, never once checking his rear view mirror to say goodbye to the life he was leaving behind.Her head bent a little lower over the picnic table. She just hadn’t seen it coming. But there was no use crying about it now. Best to move on.Shaking her head, she heaved herself off the bench and slipped the reminder of failed promises into her jean’s pocket. No, tears wouldn’t bring him back. And even if they would, she didn’t want him anymore, anyway. She had a person to find within herself somewhere, and it would start today.As the large airport shuttle rolled to a stop, she stepped forward, her bus ticket in hand, her plane ticket in her purse, and her life just beginning. But for reals this time.
A few hours later Sara was walking out of baggage claim with her duffle bag in her hand, a smile on her face, and her heart on her sleeve. She’d start her new life in her childhood dream location—Montana. Known for its sweeping landscape and vast beauty, she’d always wanted to set up a cute house with a couple horses and a ton of land. She had no idea what she’d do for money, but so what. The word practical was for people whose “happily ever after” didn’t go down in flames. Chasing dreams were now the top priority, and she couldn’t wait to get started. “You Sara?”Sara’s gaze swung past people making their way to the exit of the airport terminal and spied a man standing off to the side. He held a half-sheet of paper near his chest with her name written in a spidery scrawl. His crumpled tweed hat sat lopsided on his graying head. The dirt stained fingers holding the paper matched his old blue jeans, complimented by worn work boots.A thrill accosted her as she stepped over, nervousness mingling with hope as she beamed in greeting. “Yup! Yes I am. Are you from the ranch?” He jerked his head to the right as he reached for her duffle. “Oh, it’s okay. I got it.”Nothing changed in his posture; his hand remained poised in the air, waiting for her to hand it over. “Oh…um, okay.” Gingerly, feeling sheepish, she gave him the crisp blue duffle bag, still creased from when it hung in the store a few days previous.Without a word, he turned toward the exit. “Thanks for coming for me. I really appreciate it!” Sara chirped as she jogged to catch up. They stepped through the smudged sliding glass doors of the exit and onto the outside sidewalk. With a slow pace speaking of great patience, the man walked to a truck idling nosily by the curb twenty feet away. Beaten to hell with the dents to show for it, the faded blue vehicle sat empty, waiting for its owner to return like a beloved Labrador.“Aren’t you worried your truck will get stolen?” Sara asked, sparing a glance for the people and cars passing by. The man eased her duffle into the truck bed before heading to the driver’s side door. “Ain’t no one’s stole it yet. Reckon it’s too old.” Made sense.Sara yanked the passenger door open before climbing onto the flat bench seat. The foam showed through various rips and holes, kept from ripping further with duct tape. She pulled her door closed, only to have it bounce off the metal casing with a loud clang.“Gotta slam it.”With two hands she tried again, giving it all her weight. This time the whole truck shook as the door lodged in place.“You in?” The man’s pale blue gaze slid her way.“Uh, I think so…” she dug her hand into the crack of the seat for the latch to her seatbelt.“Seat belt don’t work.”Al-righty, then.Rivaling most rocket jets for noise, the truck lurched forward and lumbered into the street. “Anyway, thanks again for coming to get me. It was really nice of you—I didn’t catch your name…” Sara let the sentence linger in expectation.“Jake.”“Oh hi, Jake. Thanks for picking me up.”Jake had one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his knee, looking out through the cracked windshield. He didn’t nod in acknowledgement of her thanks or make any indication that she’d spoken. “Um, I’m Sara,” she tried, reaching for something to say. Then laughed to herself. “But then, you already know that, I guess. I mean, you wrote it on the sign, so…”Her words drifted through the cab, unclear as to if they found a home. Jake continued to stare at the road in front of them. She cleared her throat, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to get rid of, and clasped her hands in her lap. Intending to remain quiet, since that seemed to be his default setting, she watched the lush green landscape drift by, the giant blue sky looming over them beautifully.“So far Montana looks as beautiful as everyone says it is.” She’d never been very good at the Silence Game. “Have you been here long?”“All my life.”She nodded to indicate she’d picked up that little nugget of information, then directed her gaze back out the passenger window, trying to be respectful of the silence he seemed to covet. The problem was, that ring weighed more than a bag of rocks. It dragged down her pocket, directing and capturing all her thoughts. With muteness being the playground for bad memories, Sara tried again. “I’m from Nevada. About an hour outside Reno. You ever been to Reno?”“Nope.”Nodding again, eyes scanning the increasingly sparse landscape, she continued with, “Yeah, Reno used to be a big tourist spot, but not so much anymore. Vegas is the big attraction now. Oh, there’s a few shows now and again, but nothing like it used to be. You ever been to Vegas?”“Nope.” Jake leaned forward to look out his side window, trying to glimpse behind the truck since his driver’s side mirror was cracked and half gone. He flicked on the turn signal, the rhythmic clicking drowning out the cab. All too soon the action of the lane change ceased and they were dunked in silence once again.Sara grimaced comically to herself, flapping her eyebrows, trying to will movement to fill the empty space. It didn’t work. She stared at the looming clouds; puffy white with hints of gray dotting the large blue canvas. Very pretty, but not all together distracting. She switched her gaze to the green shrubberies and yellow flowered weeds at the side of the road. Even the weeds were green and lovely. Not like Nevada. All one saw there was brown; sand and dirt housing huge box stores with low prices.As they inevitably did, her thoughts got caught in the whirlpool that was her life’s change, sucking down into her pocket where that ring waited. Did he buy the new fiancé a bigger diamond? One that sparkled more? And how did he get the credit if Sara didn’t co-sign? Did his deadbeat friend, Aaron, help him out somehow with stolen credit cards? That guy had gotten Phil into a ton of trouble over the years, getting him involved in pyramid schemes and bad deals. Also gotten him hooked on drugs for a few year stretch. Sara had bailed Phil out of the financial issues and bled tears trying to get him off of crack. Trying to help him keep his job when things got really bad. Lying for him. And for what? All that, for what?She dragged her thoughts back into the present. It didn’t matter. That had happened, and yes, it was a speed bump in her life, but only a quitter let it drag her down. She wouldn’t let him beat her. “Do you work at the ranch?” Sara asked absently.“I take care of the horses and livestock. Organize the help.”“Oh wow! Cool! I’ve never ridden a horse, so that should be fun, I hope. I think my real job is waitressing and helping in the kitchen a little, but we get to volunteer on the dude ranch, so I will definitely do that. I want to learn all I can this summer. I’m really excited!”They were leaving the city now, green rolling hills and bright blue sky seemingly stretching to infinity. Jake kept the same pose, one hand on his knee, one on the wheel. His faded blue eyes stared straight ahead.The motor droned on.Would Phil actually go through the marriage this time? Or would he trade this new girl for a younger one when she started to show her age, too?Sara’s fists tightened, dragging her thoughts away from that subject again. “Is there a large staff at this place? Are there many tourists that come through?”Jake took a deep breath, the hand on his knee jerking absently. Like the old car he was driving, his speech slowly rolled to a start. “We got us a nice little ranch with room for about fifteen families. Not too many house staff—you ‘n another gal, plus two cooks. Then the ranch hands. I look after them. They’ll tell you all you need to hear at the meetin’ tomorra.”He said “tomorrow” like her grandparents did, stripping down the ending and filling it back up with a pleasant “ah” sound. A weight settled in Sara’s chest as a brief flash of homesickness overwhelmed her. Followed by a burst of pain when she realized she no longer had a home. Not one of her own. She’d sold everything in the house except for some clothes, got the deposit back, and paid off, then cancelled, all their credit cards. She sold the car out from under Phil a week later, paying off a gambling debt that he’d kindly fastened her name to as a co-signer, and closed that account, too. But then, he had a new car now. Somehow. Still, she was debt free for the first time in a very long time. She had nothing to do now but look forward. The first day of the rest of my life.
An hour later the rusty old truck climbed a mountain road into landscape that literally took Sara’s breath away. Green shone through the truck’s windows, scaling the sides of the roads before dropping away and landing on a valley floor far below. She could just make out a crystal blue river shimmering as it ran through the valley. Snowcapped mountains rose in the distance, framed by a sky so expansive she could almost see heaven peeking down at her. “It’s beautiful!” she breathed.Jake stopped the truck a hundred yards from a wooden archway over the road, the vaulted sign reading, “Triple T Ranch.” Where two stylized tree trunks rose to meet the arch, deer antlers were fastened, making a rustic greeting post. It was also kind of gross—the only hunting Sara had ever done was through a grocery store meat section. But she was intrigued. She wanted to learn more; to get to a point where it wasn’t gross.Jake was looking over the side of the steep mountain drop into the curving and spreading valley below. She realized he wasn’t acting as a tour guide, and didn’t intend to explain what they were looking at. He was sharing her moment. Allowing her to take a second and marvel at the beauty even though he probably saw all this a few times a day.The man didn’t say much, but she had a feeling his soul went deep. A moment later the truck wheezed to a start again, coughing up the remainder of the hill to a collection of low, squatting log buildings nestled between the trees. There was a main house, it looked like, large and sprawling, with baby log houses spreading out behind it, lost to the foliage. Sara hopped out as the truck rocked to a stop, ready to retrieve her duffle bag from the stoic ranch hand. Instead, she followed like a puppy as he shouldered it and walked to the house, spying someone coming out of the main entrance and gesturing him over.“What’s up, Jake?” a guy in his twenties said with a bobbing head. He had spikey hair and a cute, boyish face. His gaze swept past Jake and landed on Sara. His smile flicked brighter. “Hi. I’m Sam.”“Hi. Sara.” Sara followed up her name with a shy smile and a red face. The only flirting she’d really done was with Phil when she was sixteen. After that, she was pretty much spoken for. Until now.Time to strengthen up and meet some guys. Well…soon, anyway. Maybe. “She’s house staff,” Jake said, transferring the pack to the new guy. He turned to Sara and tipped his head. “Welcome.” He was in his truck a moment later, the engine roaring as it drove away around the house.“Hi, again. Welcome,” Sam repeated with a big smile. “C’mon, I’ll show you the way. Where you from?”“A small town outside Reno—I can carry my pack if you want.”Sam led her along a wide porch wrapping around the large house. “Nah, I got it. I’ve been to Reno—neat. So, this is the main house. This is where the guests congregate. You’ll stay in the back with the house staff. Staff doesn’t use the front entrance—that’s reserved for guests only. They gawk. We use this one—“ Sam held a door open at the back of the house.As Sara ducked through, she was greeted with pretty basic décor. Cream walls with a few pictures of landscape—probably Montana’s. There were a few couches, a coffee table, and a medium flat screen TV. No people. “This is the rec room for staff. You’re here, what, four or five months?” Sam asked, pausing just inside the doorway.Sara answered as she had a look around, “Yes. The summer for guests and then a month or so to help shut it down.”“Cool. I’m only here the summer. Anyway, this is the room everyone hangs out in when they have some time off and want to be inside. Usually we’re outside, though. I’ll show you the fire pit, later. You’re through here…”They entered a hallway off of the main room and turned right, passing a stagnant industrial kitchen with a long, wooden table.“We eat in the kitchen, or, again, outside. Most things we do are outside, for obvious reasons. I mean, Montana is much too pretty to be inside all the time, right?”“Where do you sleep?” Sara asked, noticing them approaching two rooms up ahead.“What? Already planning to seduce me?”Sara again ducked her head in embarrassment, only realizing how it sounded after it had left her mouth.“Relax!” Sam laughed. “I’m just kidding. Look at your face—you’d think I caught you naked!” He laughed again as he stopped in front of an open door. “I stay in the West bunker. The outside seasonal staff stay together there. There are more of us. That way we’re closer to our duties, and you’re closer to yours.”She smiled through a red face. “Got it. What do you do?”“I assist the survival expert. Some other duties, but mostly with him.”“What’s a survival expert?”Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh, man! It’s cool. He teaches you how to survive in the wild. Like if you get lost, or something bad happens and you’re stranded—I get to assist him. I help him teach people how to do it. He has a couple books out and everything. People come here specifically to take his classes!”“Oh, wow. Sounds neat.”He smiled like a little boy at Christmas. “It is. This is my second year as the assistant. He only picks one, so…”“Congratulations.”“Yeah.” Sam bobbed his head proudly. “Alright, well,” he paused long enough for her to turn her face toward him. His eyes were twinkling as they beheld her, smiling down in good humor. “I really hope you like it here. I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ve been here a few seasons in a row—in another year I’ll graduate college and then I’ll have to get a real job.” He laughed. “Anyway, I pretty much know how things run. Just let me know if you need anything.”He paused, his gaze holding hers. “Again with the red face—I must need to tone down my exuberance, huh?” Sam smiled and put a warm hand on her shoulder. “Okay, then, see ya!”She needed to get a tan, that was her only option. If she got embarrassed every time a guy talked to her, she’d need to hide the flush. Being that she was the shade of milk, always hiding from the too hot Nevada sun, her skin was unused to color. Which made Operation: Hide My Ridiculousness that much harder.Shaking her head and taking a lung filling breath, she dragged her pack into the room and surveyed her new sleeping quarters. Two twin beds, one on each side of the room, with two nightstands between them, separating the two. A dresser hugged the wall at the end of each bed, and a tiny closet held additional blankets, pillows, and one ironing board. Off their room was a bathroom with a shower, toilet and sink. There wasn’t much, but it was all anybody would need.Before Sara could pick a bed, a young woman, probably mid-twenties, bounded into the room with a giant smile and flashing eyes. “Hi! Oh my God, you must be Sara! I’m Christie. I’m your roommate. Yay!” She clapped excitedly and glanced around the room. “Right or left?”“What?” Sara asked dumbly.Christie turned her brilliant blue eyes on Sara. “Which side? Can I take the right? I always seem to veer that way.”“Oh, yeah, sure.” Sara stepped backward so the animated young woman could step in front of her, her athletic frame gliding toward her bed, making her blond ponytail bob jovially.The woman couldn’t have been more Sara’s opposite in appearance. With brown hair flowing down her back in a straight sheet, and brown eyes to match, Sara had always been about average. Average height, build and appearance. Lately she was a little too thin, the result of depression from her life’s change, but usually she had enough curve to make finding pants difficult, but not too much that she could be called voluptuous. Basically, that in-between body type where nothing fit right and shopping took all day. Average.“This is my second season, so I’m still fairly new,” Christie was saying as she began neatly tucking clothing into her dresser drawers. “But I know most of the usual suspects, so I’m good to have around. I’m a waitress slash helper, like you, which really just means we do all the hard work while the cooks make bread. Don’t try to befriend them. They’ve been here forever and are as mean as alley cats. You here for the whole time?” Christie shot a glance back at Sara, awaiting the answer.Sara, taking that as a cue to stop staring like a stalker, jumped toward her own dresser, tripping over her duffle bag and staggering to the drawers. When she steadied herself, she noticed Christie had stopped in her unpacking with a small smile, watching the entertainment.“I want to be there when you ride your first horse.” Christie laughed and turned back to her task, shaking her head.“I am, yes,” Sara managed. “Here for the whole stretch, I mean.”“Me, too! A lot of people are just here for the summer, then they go back to school. What are you going back to?”Despondency settled on Sara like ashes. The future gaped at her, bleak and desolate. “Not sure. I…sorta…well…” A mutinous tear leaked out of her eye.“Oh, honey.” Christie crossed the room in a flash, gently coaxing Sara back to the bed to sit. “A man, huh?”Sara furrowed her brow as more tears sprung up, hating herself for breaking down. It always seemed that relationship pain was stored right near the surface—any tiny thing set it boiling over. “H-how did you know?” she sniffed.Christie gave her a sympathetic smile. “I recognize that guy-hurt. My first love dumped me when he left for college. Crushed me. But you know what? I was better off! He went wild and nearly got kicked out of school, whereas I got top grades. After the first year to feel sorry for myself, I put my head up and soldiered on! I don’t need someone like that, you know? How long ago did you break up?”“About five months.”She tsk’ed. “And how long were you together?”Sink or swim. Sara pulled out the ring and showed it to Christie. “Since I was sixteen. Fourteen years. He left me for a cute little intern in his office who looked just like me. He’d been seeing her for a year behind my back.”Christie rubbed Sara’s back. “This may be a stupid question, but… you didn’t know?”Sara shook her head. “No clue. People say you always know when your man is cheating, but I had no idea. He gambled a lot, though, so…”“Ah. Then he was cheating long before he met that girl. A gambling habit, or any addiction, can be just like a mistress. The addict lies about it, spends long hours away, sneaks—you’re better off. Or is it too soon?” Christie’s searching expression roved Sara’s face. The younger woman nodded in sympathy with the resolve she must’ve found in Sara’s expression. “Definitely better off. And a good move, too, coming here. It’s so much fun. Plus, you get paid to basically hang out on a dude ranch! People spend good money to come to these places, and you’re getting paid to do it! Free food, rent—all you have to do is a little back-breaking, sweat-wrenching work, and then voila, paradise!”Sara barked out a watery laugh, mopping up her face. “I told myself no more crying.”“Eh.” Christie bounded up, back to her unpacking. “Be easy on yourself, girlie. Cry when you feel like it, laugh when you want to, put your faith in God and let Him take the lead. It was a long time, and heartbreak sucks rocks--don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”“What are you, a motivational speaker?”Christie laughed, a free, inhibited sound. “I was a guidance counselor, actually. I did summer camp work before I came here.”With the briefest of a smile peeping through, Sara unzipped her duffle bag. She’d felt better in that moment than she had in the last three years. Maybe this change was a good one. Maybe Phil had done them both a favor. Determination steeling her resolve, she decided that, yes, he had. Sara would make this summer memorable. She would carve out her new life how she wanted to. Starting with something as simple as smiling more often.
