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Friday Fun – Stealing Gran’s Booty, Chapter Four!!

Who’s ready for another installment of Stealing Gran’s Booty?

If you’re late to the Gran’s Booty party (yes, I said that on purpose), this is an old, old contemporary romance about a pirate treasure hunt on a deserted island that I wrote a long, long time ago when I was still a wee baby writer learning how to tell good stories, and I’m bringing it here to you in the spirit of fun. We’re up to chapter four, but you can find chapter one here, chapter two here, and chapter three here! Happy reading, y’all!

Stealing Gran’s Booty by Jamie Farrell

Chapter Four

Raina’s first memory of her father was of the two of them sitting at the oak table in the kitchen working on a Strawberry Shortcake puzzle. She couldn’t remember if she’d loved her father or the puzzle more, but she knew it was first time she’d recognized that as far as people went, he was her favorite in the whole world. Back then, Frank Bishop was her hero. And puzzles had become their thing. All through her childhood, they’d worked brainteasers and riddles and Rubik’s cubes and those crazy metal puzzle contraptions. They did it all. At least, they did until Frank decided he liked the idea of buying into an auto body shop with an old buddy more than he liked the idea of spending Saturdays bonding with his daughter.

It had been a long time since she’d thought about those days, but something about Gran’s mystery man triggered the memories. Maybe it was his game face, his steely determination after the spider incident so similar to the resolve she’d seen on her father’s face when they started a more complex sort of puzzle. Or maybe it was simply that the mystery man was a puzzle, and she was going to have to dust off her critical thinking skills if she was going to stay a step ahead of him and Gran. Given the lack of evidence of more rent-a-dates, she was pretty sure this morning’s surprise was her only option.

She took a vicious bite of her third lemon jelly donut as she watched the surf roll in time with the tropical beat strumming from a portable CD player behind her. She didn’t have to follow through with her plan. But if she didn’t, what would Gran do next? Suggest she trade Heidi for Kyle the steroidal deckhand? Send Pirate Pete out for a mechanical bull and a vibrator? No wasn’t a word Gran was familiar with, and Raina was tired of being Gran’s problem to fix. Pretending to fall in love with the mystery man was, unfortunately, the best of her options.

Even if she managed to convince everyone she’d met her soul mate, he’d make it clear the feelings weren’t reciprocal. The jerk. He was cranky, he touched spiders, he stole the dog’s affections, and he made fun of Raina’s safe lifestyle choices. Did he think it was easy to be so straightlaced? It took a lot of effort to turn boring into an art form.

She chomped into the donut again. She couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t work. So she needed to figure out what Gran intended for him before any plans went into motion.

Her mother plopped onto the blanket beside her and placed a cup filled with a gooey greenish mixture between them. So that was what a tofu seaweed shake looked like. Nadine squinted at Raina. “Feeling better?”

Physically. Raina nodded.

“Good.” Her mom brushed at the sand on the blanket. “Your grandmother wouldn’t let me come over last night. She said it would ruin the surprise.”

Raina cocked an eyebrow at her. “Treasure hunt?”

Nadine’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “She’s getting predictable in her old age.” She leaned closer. “She spent a week swearing somebody stole her map. Even made me take her to the bank to get a backup copy out of her safe deposit box. And do you know what?”

It was hard to guess exactly what when Gran was involved. But Raina was certainly not looking forward to discovering what sort of treasure Gran had arranged for on the island. Especially if she’d already found him. “It turns out Dad and Uncle Steve drew it when they were little?”

Nadine shook her head. “She forgot she sent her first copy to the travel agent for booking the trip. Did I tell you how she found the travel agent and the pirate ship? Through Craigslist. Can you believe that? The internet is the worst thing to ever happen to your grandmother.”

“Mom. She’s a grown woman. She can surf porn for all I care.” Raina had bigger problems than how Gran found the ship. Like how she was going to survive the ride back. And the stupid map would probably tell them to go traipsing through nature’s original landscape nightmare. Ugh.

Nadine scrunched up her nose and pointed at the cup. “I’ll give you ten bucks to accidentally spill that.”

Pirate ships, sand up her butt, spiders in her shirt, cranky gigolos, and now she had to listen to her mother and her grandmother bitch about each other for the next week. It was bad enough they called her at home to mediate their stupid disagreements. Worse when they called her to take sides. Here she couldn’t pretend to lose her cell signal and hang up on them. Hell would’ve been more of a paradise. “Spill it yourself. I’m not here to be your trained monkey.”

Nadine raised an eyebrow. “Now do you feel better?”

The pit of Raina’s belly gurgled. Nadine wasn’t talking about her physical ailments this time, but she’d had enough of the touchy-feelies for one morning. “If I say yes, will you and Gran act like adults?”

Nadine poked at the side of the cup. The green goo inside jiggled. She poked it harder and the cup swayed, though the sludge inside barely rippled. “God knows I can’t speak for your grandmother.”

“Then don’t.” Raina shoved the last of the donut in her mouth.

Nadine chuckled. “If I’d known a pirate ship was all it would take to get you to voice an opinion again, I would’ve hired it a year ago.”

Raina ground the donut to bits between her teeth. Her mom might not approve of her methods, but Raina was doing her best to get on with her life. If Nadine wanted to help, Raina could think of a few other things her mother could’ve done, or rather not done, in the last eighteen months. Losing her dad was hard enough. Living with her mother and grandmother after the fallout was sometimes worse.

“But you have a good point.” Nadine abandoned all attempts at subtlety as she swung her arm around and backhanded the cup. It flew through the humid morning air, tumbling end over end. Fluorescent glops of goo splattered across the blanket and dropped into the sand with a series of gummy plops. Nadine giggled. “Oh, dear me, just look at that mess. And now I’ll have to eat a donut for breakfast instead. The horrors.”

Gran shuffled to the edge of the blanket, her wrinkled cheeks pink from the exertion of dancing in the sand. The stuffed parrot pinned on her shoulder toppled over backwards, pulling her graying button-down shirt tight across her saggy breasts and revealing a skull-and-bones tattoo on her shoulder. She’d donned a pair of Grandpa’s old work trousers and rolled the legs up to fit her short frame. The only thing she lacked to complete her outfit was Pirate Pete’s eye patch and Jack Sparrow’s hat. “Now look what you done! Pirate Pete done got that seaweed just for you, and you be treating it like dirt. He even be learning was a bean sprout was, though I be telling you, his bean don’t got no trouble sprouting.”

So that’s what the old folks were calling it these days.

Nadine grimaced as she wiped her hand on a clean corner of the blanket. “I told you I didn’t want a special diet.”

Gran bared her blackened-out teeth. “I done been telling you the same thing the last ten years, but you still be putting that healthy crap on the table every night.”

Nadine sat straight up, game face on. “The doctor says you need to eat better, and it’s only been two months.”

Gran snorted. “He done say that to make you happy ‘cuz he be knowing how much you be liking to torture me.”

Gran had moved in with Frank and Nadine five years ago. They were in the middle of divorce proceedings when Raina’s dad died. Raina thought her mother should’ve divorced Gran at the same time, but Gran didn’t believe in it. She’d been convinced she could keep her son and daughter-in-law together despite all the evidence to the contrary. And now she believed there was no reason to move out of her almost ex-daughter-in-law’s house. As for Nadine, Raina suspected she let Gran stay as penance for misdeeds in her marriage. They both needed to grow up and get along for the peace of the rest of the family.

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes.” Raina put the right inflection in her tone to perfectly mimic her mother. Gran chortled with glee, but Raina switched voices and glared at her too. “We be here to be having a good time, so we be fighting until we be puking all the way home.”

This time Nadine snorted, but Gran didn’t seem to notice she’d been mocked. The older woman nodded. “And don’t be forgetting the sex part. We done gonna fix you yet. You be seeing how nice that Kyle be playing with Xena? Wouldn’t he make a fun lay?”

And so it began. Her mother was right. Gran was getting a tad predictable.

Nadine sputtered. “Eleanor-”

Heidi paused from watching Kyle long enough to glare at Raina over the top of her oversized sunglasses. “I don’t share.”

Raina’s cheeks burned as she dropped eye contact with Heidi. That was another memory she didn’t need to relive this morning.

“But it only be for one or two nights, just so’s Raina don’t be tossing her donuts no more.”

Yep. She was going to have to do this the hard way. She shoved to her feet. “I found my soulmate this morning.” She didn’t know words could taste so bad and yet flow so easily from her mouth. “So there’s no need to fix anything else or for anyone to share, thank you very much.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” Nadine muttered.

Gran clapped with undisguised joy. “Shiver me timbers and blow me down. It done be about time. Does he be looking hot enough to lick?”

Raina swallowed hard. That was one image even her lust wench couldn’t handle this morning. “Like a lollipop.”

Heidi snickered. “Does he run on batteries?”

“He runs on his love for me.” More like he’d recoil in horror and run away if he knew Raina was professing their never-ending devotion to each other.

Nadine glared at Raina, obviously not amused or believing a word of it. “Enough.”

“She so doesn’t have a guy.” Heidi rubbed noses with Xena. “Isn’t she so sad, my little baby love, making up a fake boyfriend? Oh, yes, so very very sad.”

“For your information, he’s real, and he’s perfect.” Perfect? The woman-hating rent-a-date cabana boy? So maybe he wasn’t her boyfriend. But he could’ve at least come down to breakfast. Heidi’d change her mind about sharing then. “He’s strong and kind and protective and hot. Seriously hot. Like he’s probably raised the temperature of the island by ten degrees just by being here. He’s got the most perfect set of shoulders I’ve ever seen on a man. And you can look in his eyes and see right through to his soul.”

Overkill alert. Did she want them to believe this or not? When it came right down to it, so long as Nadine and Heidi didn’t convince Gran it was a lie, did it matter?

Gran nodded at Raina as a gust of wind lifted her eyepatch. “That be the spirit. Does he got a brother?”

Ew. “We were too busy talking about other things. Like his volunteer work with African orphans and how many one-handed pushups he can do. I’ll have to ask next time.”

Heidi set Xena down and shoved to her feet. “Could you be pathetic on your own time? Gran has a surprise for us.”

Raina resisted the urge to stick her tongue out. Barely. But boyfriend-stealing wasn’t an easily forgiven offense, so it wasn’t a big surprise that Heidi still held a grudge. “I’ve already gotten the best surprise. I don’t need anything else.”

Both of Nadine’s ears twitched. She looked like she’d found out the donuts were made of tofu and wheat germ. “Raina.”

It was fine for Nadine to overshare, but Raina had to keep her sex life to herself? A girl couldn’t even have an imaginary boyfriend without getting parental crap. “I wish I could bottle my happiness and share it with all of you. It’s like having a little rainbow dancing in my soul.”

Heidi rolled her eyes. “Nadine, you shouldn’t have dumped that shake out. Raina’s mistaking constipation for happiness.”

Nadine stomped her foot. “Eleanor. Tell us about the treasure hunt.”

Gran sniffed. The parrot tipped off her shoulder as her posture drooped. “You done ruined the surprise now.”

Guilt nudged Raina. Gran generally had good intentions even if the execution was poor.   Raina braced herself for the worst, but still had to ask. “So what kind of treasure are we hunting?”

Gran stared forlornly out at the ocean. “It be pirate booty. I got me a map.”

“Real live pirate booty?” Raina prompted.

“Darn tootin’.” Gran tugged the parrot back upright. “And we all be splitting it when we be finding it, and we all gonna be rich.”

Nadine tugged on her ear. “My life is saved. Chocolate pirate coins will surely keep me from financial ruin in my old age.”

Gran wagged a finger at Nadine. “You be making fun of my booty?”

“Of course not.” Nadine stared serenely at Gran. “Why travel hundreds of miles when I can do that at home?”

Raina held up a hand to cut off whatever Gran was about to say. “Mom. Gran gave me the greatest treasure in the world. The least you can do is pretend you’re grateful.”

“I’ll be grateful when I get a chance to approve of your soulmate.”

Heidi’s lip curled. “If this is going to get all touchy-feely, I’m going back to the ship.”

“The only thing we be touching today be pirate booty.” The parrot wobbled back over Gran’s shoulder as she reached for her flamingo-speckled backpack in the sand.

Nadine sighed. “Hope we brought enough hand sanitizer.”

“And this here be the map what’s gonna take us to the loot.” With a flourish, Gran pulled a yellowed, folded piece of paper from the bag. “I done got it myself from a real live pirate back in 1945, right before I met my dear George.”

“God bless his soul,” all four women said in unison, though there was much eye-rolling on the part of the three who hadn’t been married to him.

Gran made the sign of the cross. “Amen. Now let’s go get us some booty. Who be having the compass?”

After a chorus of not me’s, Gran shrugged. “Don’t matter. The map ain’t got north marked no how. We just be looking for the palm tree.”

“There’s one.” Heidi pointed to the nearest of about a dozen scattered at the edge of the beach, her silvery orange nail polish sparkling in the morning sun. Xena let out a yip and ran to the tree, then squatted in front of it. Heidi didn’t seem to mind her dog spreading organic joy. But then, the dog’s diet was probably more organic than Raina’s.

Nadine tilted her head up toward the sky. “Lord save us all.”

Gran stomped a boot in the sand. “Not a straight tree. We be looking for the crooked palm tree. Look here on the map. It done be more up the hill. Then we be going twenty paces east and we be looking under the rock shaped like Texas. That’s where our treasure be.”

Raina gingerly grasped an edge of the map as a light breeze fluttered the paper. Nadine and Heidi moved to peer over her shoulder. An oval-shaped blob covered the top two-thirds of the paper, with Cartesian coordinates and written instructions scrawled beneath in faded ink. A big X marked the spot two inches left and down from the center of the blob.

“Gran, this doesn’t look like our island.” Heidi smirked at Raina. “Maybe we should get back on the ship and look around for a while. That’d be fun, huh?”

“Sure. Didn’t you bring your new Coach purse along? I used up the other barf bags.”

Heidi rolled her eyes. “Is your boyfriend going to hold it for you?”

Where was her boyfriend? She hadn’t scared him off that fast, had she? Maybe his other responsibility was to bury the ring pops and Mardi Gras beads while everyone else ate breakfast. Or maybe the spider bit him and he was laying on the hillside dying.

Or maybe he decided he’d rather take his chances with the sharks and swim home instead of putting up with the Bishop women for a week. That did seem the most likely scenario.

An image snuck into her mind, his arms slicing through clear blue ocean, water gliding over the rigid muscle in his upper back. Bad lust wench. A pretty body didn’t equal a good partner. But if she was going to pretend to be in love with him, she might as well admit his looks were more pleasing than his personality. Grumpies aside, he couldn’t be all that bad. He’d been nice to Xena.

Gran tapped the map. “No, this be the island. See here? It done says Conqueso Cay, and Pirate Pete says that what this island be called forever. Nobody ever comes here. I done bet it’s because they think it be made of cheese. Them hurricanes and cheese monsters what the island be named after maybe changed the shape, but I know we be in the right spot.”

Cheese monsters? Raina cut a glance at her mother.

Nadine shrugged as if to say she’s your grandmother. “How do you know, Eleanor?”

“‘Cuz I got me good instincts, and that’s what they be saying. We be on the right island.” With a hmph, she crinkled the map and shoved it back in her bag. “We be going this way.”

“Gran.” Raina grabbed her arm. She acted like an eight-year-old, but her bones were a little older. That forest was no place for a woman in her eighties. “The ground is really uneven in there. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Gran scoffed. “Do I ever be steering you wrong?”

Nadine snorted. “Since you asked-”

Raina poked her mother in the ribs to shush her. “I’m serious, Gran. One of us could get hurt.” Or eaten by a creepy crawly family of miniature beasts. The more she thought about it, the more she hoped the gigolo cabana boy was okay. At least Gran wasn’t acting like anyone was missing. But she also thought there were cheese monsters.

Gran planted her fists on her hips. “Better men than us done be hurt for less. We be having us a duty to find this here treasure and divvy up the plunder.”

Heidi stepped on Raina’s foot. “Do not mess this up,” she hissed. “Do you know how much good a pirate treasure could do for the planet? You owe the Earth.”

Was she kidding? Had she forgotten Gran hired guys to dress up like aliens and jump out from behind cacti when they went to Roswell a couple years back? Whatever treasure Gran had dreamed up, it wouldn’t be valuable enough to save the Earth. It certainly wasn’t worth risking life and limb and peace of mind to crawl around in the forest. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of nowhere. What happens when one of us falls and breaks a leg? Where are we going to find a doctor?”

“Excuse us.” Heidi grabbed Raina and pulled her through the sand to the water’s edge where Kyle sat staring at the ship. “You must’ve puked out your common sense yesterday. Gran wouldn’t have brought us here without scoping out the perfect place to hide it first, which means somebody’s already cut a clean path. If you don’t want to go, fine, sit on the beach and be a baby. But don’t screw this up for the rest of us.”

“It still won’t be worth anything.”

“Wanna bet? Gran’s loaded, she’s old, and she knows it’ll be a lot more fun to watch us spend it now than after she’s dust.”

Raina sputtered. “That’s- That’s-”

“That’s life. Suck it up.”

Raina’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to think about Gran dying. So she tucked the thoughts away and concentrated on the immediate problem on the island. And she had to admit Heidi had a good point where their vacation was concerned. If she was right, odds were good Raina’s soulmate was the gardener. It explained the lack of pirate speak. And his irritation about her wanting to see his ass. Crap.

“Honor to hunt pirate treasure.” Kyle looked up long enough to stare at her boobs. “Don’t be disrespecting.”

She never would’ve made this mistake if she’d had her morning oatmeal. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

And there she was, boring old Raina once again. But better boring than hurt.

“Suit yourself.” Heidi sniffed. “But if you’re not going to hunt treasure, do the rest of us a favor and take a bath.”

She spun in the sand and clomped back to Gran, her flip-flops glittering in the sun. “Let’s go get some treasure.”

“Yar, matey!” Gran snapped her fingers. “First Mate Jack, I be needing my supplies.”

Raina turned her back to the water and stared into the forest. What was he up to in there? Hiding the treasure? Or setting up the next surprise? Nothing was ever straightforward when Gran was involved. Raina had a bad feeling about all of it.

And it wasn’t the rainbows dancing in her soul.

Nadine shuffled to her side and crossed her arms over her chest. “I swear to God, if she doesn’t stop talking like a pirate-”

“Could be worse.” Raina eyed Gran and Heidi as they set off toward the forest. Heidi slung Gran’s flamingo backpack over her shoulder, and Gran carried a metal detector like a cane. Xena frolicked along behind them. Apprehension slithered down Raina’s back, but she pushed it away. “At least she’s never suggested we take a family vacation to do a porn flick.”

Nadine sputtered. “I thought I raised you better than to say things like that out loud.”

Raina set off to follow Gran and Heidi. “Guess I’ve spent too much time around Gran.”

“Try living with her.” Nadine tagged along.

“Mom. Stop it.” Raina watched as Heidi, Gran, and Xena disappeared into the forest. “This isn’t going to end well.”

“Of course not. Your grandmother planned it.”

Raina gave her a warning glance.

Nadine sighed. “You shouldn’t let her get to you.”

Of all the people to talk about relationships, Nadine was the last one Raina would listen to. Look how hers had ended up. “She’s not.”

“‘Scuse me, Miss Nadine.” Jack scampered up to them, a second backpack in his hands. “Miss Eleanor says she don’t be wanting me and Kyle to go ‘long, so’s you should prolly go. You might be needing this here. It got lunch and a little something extra in it.” The more bulgy of his two eyes winked.

Nadine laid a hand on his arm as she took the bag and smiled. “Jack, how sweet. Thank you.”

Raina stiffened. Her mother and Jack? Nadine had no right to do this. Not after the last time. As discreetly as she could, Raina charged up the beach toward Gran and Heidi. They stopped at the edge of the forest.

“Problem?” Raina called. Behind her, Nadine huffed as she struggled to keep up. Good job, Raina. Give her a heart attack.

“Nothing you can help with, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes.” Heidi pushed aside an overgrown bush that probably housed a whole colony of spiders. “Gran, I think we can go in here.”

Raina peered at the opening. No spiders, but no clear path either. If the cabana boy was a gardener, he’d done a poor job. Given the way he’d watched over Xena, Raina doubted he would’ve let her and her family trip along without a clear path. Back to assumption number one.

He was still the treasure.

Would’ve been nice of him to come down instead of making them hunt, but Gran had probably forbidden it. Raina drew close to Heidi. “When she falls and breaks a hip, I hope you feel really, really bad.”

Heidi clipped a leash to Xena’s collar. “That’s the thing about imaginary boyfriends. They can’t satisfy a woman’s needs, and she gets so frustrated she can’t see the positive side of anything. And then no man wants her, so she’s doomed to spend the rest of her life alone and sexually frustrated, because she chases her friends away too. Congratulations, Raina. You are officially a bitter old hag.”

Raina flinched. When did her romantic life become everyone else’s business? “But I still have my dignity.”

Heidi smirked. “If you say so.”

Okay, so she’d given up the dignity when she stole Heidi’s boyfriend at her father’s funeral. But that was almost two years ago. It was time to move on. If that guy had been Heidi’s soul mate, fine, Raina would rot in hell. But Heidi specialized in playmates, and she’d gotten a new one fast enough. Raina, on the other hand, had vowed not to date again until she could do it without hearing her father’s last words echoing in her head. You’re just as much an emotional screw-up as your mother.

Raina blinked up at the woods looming over them, preferring to think about the spiders laying in wait. She could feel them watching her. And she had a horrible suspicion the next time they attacked, her imaginary boyfriend wouldn’t set the world right again. If it wasn’t the spiders, it would be something else.

Raina peered into the dark forest as Gran and Heidi were swallowed up by wild jungle growth. She was right. Gran had led them straight to Hell. Three more steps and she’d join them. She glanced back at the beach. With any luck, she’d see it again tonight.

It went against every ounce of common sense she possessed, but she couldn’t sit on the beach while Gran was in the woods. She stepped forward into the woods with Nadine right behind her. What kinds of treasure would they find in Hell today?

* * *

Hope y’all have a great weekend! Chapter Five’s coming next week.

Buttercup vs. The Bib

Buttercup’s words are getting better every day, and recently, she’s discovered the word “bib.”

Like Squeaker, she attaches an “ee” to the end of her favorite words–“egg-ee, book-ee,” etc. So she adds that -ee on the end of bib, too,

Except she pronounces bib a little wrong in the vowel part.

Which leaves her rubbing her chest, asking for a boobie.

Life is never boring ’round here, y’all.

Munchkin and the Corn Pie

I was looking through our vegetable drawer the other day when Munchkin came over to join me. He elbowed in and grabbed an ear of corn. “Mama!” he said. “I know what you should do with this! You should make a corn pie!”

“A–huh?” I said. Because I’m eloquent like that.

“A corn pie. See, first you shuck off this outer stuff, then you cut the corn off the cob, then you mix it with some brown sugar, put it in a pie crust, and bake it for five to sixty minutes. Corn pie.”

While I’m still trying to wrap my brain around that, I’d recommend checking out Pinterest for real corn pie recipes. Or you can try this corn and bacon pie recipe from Epicurious.

Happy Friday, y’all!

* * *

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Third Chapter Thursday – Stealing Gran’s Booty Returns!

Ahoy, ye romance-loving land-lubbers! Today I return with another installment of Stealing Gran’s Booty, in which we watch West see Raina in a new light, with my normal disclaimer that the story was begun when I was but a wee writer girl having fun with a crazy story in my head.

Haven’t read the first two chapters yet? You’ll find chapter one here, and chapter two here! Happy reading!

 

Chapter Three

It was the mahogany brown puppy dog eyes. Clear, bright, devious, and fully focused. No hangover, no lingering drug-induced haziness. Whatever this chick’s issues yesterday, she was stone cold sober today. So why the hell didn’t she make a bit of sense? West could’ve kicked himself for being suckered by those pretty eyes. He should’ve made her take care of the damn spider herself. Better yet, he should’ve held it over her head and demanded she get the hell off this island. Instead, he was grabbing at crumbs to piece together this crazy situation while he did his best to ignore the glimpses of pale skin peeking out between her gaping buttons. How the hell did she know him, and who the hell was Xena? “Who?”

The princess sent him another one of those prissy you’re not funny looks. “The dog.”

Finally, something made sense. “You named that pipsqueak of a dog Xena?”

She snorted at him and her brown Medusa ‘do jiggled. Medusa. Now there was a costume for Sheila next Halloween. Montana had already told him she wanted to be a mermaid. They could dress Jerrod up like Neptune. Kid was too young to be picky. But the brunette was talking again. “I didn’t name her anything. She’s not mine. But there’s gonna be a lot more peace interrupted if we don’t find her before Heidi gets here.”

He tucked away the name for later. For now, there’d been too much we already today without any of the pay-off he hoped for. If some chick named Heidi was coming over, he wasn’t too optimistic they’d be leaving. “Get the spider, turn around so you can look at my ass, fetch the dog. Anything else, your highness?”

Her back snapped straight, causing her shirt to gape open more. Delicate blue veins crossed her upper chest and disappeared beneath the white cloth. “You should leave the superhero complex to the superheroes. I can find the dog myself.”

She spun around, treating him to a view of a perfect, curvy ass covered in butt-ugly khaki. He would’ve liked to see her swing her hips like that in a sarong and bikini top, with all that pretty skin exposed and her mouth taped shut so he could enjoy the views in paradise for a while. Not that she had a bad voice. He liked the huskiness to it. If she’d use it to tell him something good, like that she was leaving, he might’ve played along with whatever she was up to. But Charlie’s memory wouldn’t let him enjoy it. Bastard’s voice had been cropping up in his head all night. Don’t never trust a woman with the family jewels.

Trusting and playing were different. As she reached the edge of the clearing, he whistled softly. He should’ve let her add to those bloody scrapes on her legs, but the opportunity to get the better of this stuck-up princess was too much to resist.

The mutt barreled into the clearing, a brown lizard clenched in its jaw. It scampered past the brunette without a glance. Its tail wagged so fast that its entire body swayed as it skittered to a halt and dropped the lizard at West’s feet. He slid a glance at her. “Don’t look too hard for the dog. Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

She glared at the mutt. “Traitor. Save yourself from Pirate Pete next time.”

A gnawing feeling slithered up his backbone to rest between his shoulder blades. Pirate Pete. Didn’t like the sound of that either. “Awful charitable of you.”

She lifted a finger in his direction. “You-”

“Buttercup?” The radio at her hip squawked to life. “Come in, Buttercup.”

Jesus, did rich people ever use normal names? West pinched the bridge of his nose as the brunette fumbled for the radio, pink rising in her cheeks, her thumb flicking over her fingernail. She turned to the side, pointedly ignoring him. “Yes, Governor?”

A chipper voice answered. “Hope you ain’t upchucking again today. Me and the girls be coming over.”

The pink turned red. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Pirate Pete says he ain’t never seen nobody that sick on his ship.” Definitely an older woman. Uneducated, and until recently, he hadn’t been one to talk. “He done says if you be such a landlubber that you ain’t got the constitution for the trip back, he be gonna maroon us with a radio and done let the Coast Guard clean up after you.”

Her cheeks flamed so high West could almost feel the heat off them. He found himself feeling not too much better himself. She hadn’t been drunk or high yesterday. Just seasick. He should’ve known. It didn’t explain all of her problems this morning, but it made it a lot harder to write her off. Especially when he couldn’t stop mentally tracing those veins beneath the gap in her shirt. Chica needed to get the hell off his island.

The princess planted her fist on her hip and glared at the radio. “Did his parrot tell him to say that?”

One more thing West wouldn’t be asking about.

After a bit of static, the radio came back to life. “Uh-oh. Sounds like someone done woke up with sand up her unmentionables.”

A new voice cut in on the radio. “For God’s sake, Eleanor, quit taunting her.   Raina, we’re on our way over. Do you need anything?”

Princess Medusa brushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder. Who was she, Buttercup or Raina?   “A leash for the dog. And breakfast would be good.”

“Pirate Pete doesn’t stock oatmeal. Hope donuts are okay for your stomach today.”

“They’ll be fine.”

“You sure? I could trade you for a tofu-seaweed shake your grandmother was evil enough to arrange for me. Wouldn’t want you getting sick again if you eat too much sugar.”

An evil grin lit her face as she slid a glance at West. “Donuts sound positively orgasmic.”

“Well then.” The other woman coughed. “We’ll see you soon.”

So maybe Buttercup didn’t dabble in recreational drugs. The damn woman liked oatmeal. She probably didn’t even know what drugs were. But it was obvious she had an agenda for West. An agenda he wouldn’t have any part in. He had a treasure to find.

Buttercup stuck the radio back onto the clip at her belt, then snapped her fingers. “Xena, come.”

The dog whimpered and lay down on West’s left foot. He checked himself before a grin slipped out. “It wants oatmeal too.”

She scowled at him. “Xena.”

There was something endearing about her when she was pissed at him. It was almost like being at home. “You wear white granny panties too?”

“I’ll let you know when my panties are your business.”

“Can’t get in the mood when you’re not in the back seat of that late model sedan to get you to the nine-to-five, huh?”

Her eyes flashed a warning. “I’m a lot pickier than the dog.”

Huh. So this was what fun felt like. “I know what you mean. I’m more of a satin and cinnamon rolls type guy myself.”

She stalked across the clearing and snatched the dog off his foot, giving him a whiff of sun-kissed pineapple. “That’s a relief. I’d hate to have to beat you off if you were a ’67 Mustang convertible type.”

She probably didn’t even drive it. She looked the type to be afraid of the kind of guys it would attract. “Had a lot less prissy girls than you beat me off.”

His satisfaction in watching her cheeks redden again was short-lived. Despite the blush, she smiled sweetly at him. “Then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if my grandmother wants a test drive.”

She swung her hips out of the clearing and into the woods, dog tucked under her arm. Sheila always had to have the last word too. He’d let Buttercup get away with it this time. No doubt she was headed down to tell her Pirate Pete all about the strange man in the forest.

Too bad for her she wouldn’t be able to prove it. But now instead of simply looking for the treasure, he had to avoid detection by Buttercup and company while doing it since he’d failed miserably at convincing her to leave. Piece of cake.

The hair stood up on the back of his neck. If he believed in that sort of thing, he would’ve sworn the island was laughing at him. Fun and games all around.

Charlie’s voice echoed in his head. World ain’t gonna bend over for you, boy. Just make sure you don’t bend over for it. No worries West would forget that one. He’d wasted enough of his life wishing for more than he had instead of doing the work it took to get what he wanted. Today he was going to get everything he’d ever wanted and give the rest of the world a stiff middle finger in the process.

* * *

West settled between a limestone formation and a dense firebrush on the south side of the hill. The trees were thinner here, the pine and palm foliage scant atop stunted white trunks. Looked like this part of the island hadn’t yet recovered from a hurricane. Suited West fine, since he was able to use this as a good lookout spot without being easily seen himself.

He pulled his backpack between his knees and unzipped it. His other gear was hidden in a small cove near the pond. If his gut was right, Buttercup and company didn’t have any use for that side of the island.

His backpack carried only the basic essentials: water, food, a fancy pocketknife, binoculars, a shirt and hat, a short-handled shovel, and the satellite phone. The map was tucked in his back pocket. Not that he needed it. He’d memorized every square inch of it already. The part he didn’t know was how much the island had changed in the decades since the map was drawn.

The ground didn’t move, but he could’ve sworn the island laughed at him again, this time a deep rumbling belly laugh from its very core. He wasn’t usually so in tune with nature. It was hard to ignore here though, where the roots of his underprivileged existence lay buried. He didn’t know if Charlie was right, if they could have had the world if that woman hadn’t stolen the map before Charlie could recover the treasure. But he did know it was still here. He could feel it as clearly as he felt the sun on his face and the dirt beneath him.

Sitting here being the butt of the island’s joke wouldn’t get him any closer to his goal. The island could laugh all it wanted. West wouldn’t leave without what he came for.

He pulled the sat phone out of the bag, powered it up, and set it on the rock. The island wasn’t his only problem with the treasure. He reached back into his bag for the binoculars. After making a few little adjustments, he scanned the scene down on the beach.

A light ocean breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it a murmur of steel drums and banjos somewhere behind him. West paused and tuned in to the music. Was someone else here? Or was the damn island was screwing with him again, distorting the noise as it bounced through the trees? He twisted to inspect the situation. All was still, nothing but nature as far as he could see. Didn’t mean he was alone though.

Still on edge, West returned his attention to the beach. Two other women sat with Buttercup on bright picnic blankets. A CD player was propped up on a rock nearby. Music mystery solved.

One of the women with Buttercup was old enough to be pushing up daisies without even dying first. The other was somewhere around late middle-age, dressed for a day of playing tourist in Miami complete with flowery straw hat, white pants, tropical print shirt and yuppy sandals. He passed over Buttercup to watch a fourth woman walk up the beach toward the others. This one was a blond who looked a decade too old to still be pulling that high school cheerleader routine. Her belly button ring glinted in the sun beneath a short black tank top. Her ass was barely covered by itty bitty pink cotton shorts that probably had something obscene written on the back side. As the dog rushed her, she bent over and gave him a great view of her cleavage. Heidi, he guessed. Montana would’ve skipped through the sand to ask if her name was Barbie. Probably wouldn’t be the last time he was glad the little stinker wasn’t here.

So this was what he was up against. No question, he liked the dog the best. He wouldn’t have wasted much time on these women except for one little detail. Everything about Buttercup’s demeanor this morning indicated she expected him. He hadn’t planned to be here this time yesterday, so how the hell did she know him?

Somebody else on the pirate ship must’ve warned her. But then why leave her alone on the island with him, especially in the shape she was in last night? What the hell was going on?

Maybe the crew knew something. West shifted his attention to a dumb-looking barrel of a guy tagging along behind the blond. He was probably in his mid-thirties, though the way his tongue hung out at the view of her backside indicated he hadn’t gotten there mentally yet. He’d only be a problem if West needed to have an intellectual conversation with him, or maybe if they had to arm wrestle. The sailor who’d gotten Buttercup situated on the beach last night was there, too, carting a tray of drinks to the women on the blanket. Was he Pirate Pete?

West couldn’t see anyone else on the narrow beach, so turned his focus on the ship. Through the binoculars, the damn thing was uglier. The paint along the hull was peeling and grimy dirt blackened the portholes. Looked like the engines were leaking oil. If this was a luxury cruise for the women, those donuts better be as orgasmic as Buttercup hoped.

The door to the pilot room opened. Now that was Pirate Pete. West had to remind himself to breathe.

Goddamn Sheila. If she knew that double-crossing asshat would be here, she should’ve had the decency to say so. But then, Sheila never had much decency. She was a Bellamy after all. Like Charlie used to say, trust your friends less than your enemies, and your family less than your friends.

West pounded her number into the sat phone, the numbers obscured by the red haze blurring his vision. After five rings, Montana answered. “Hew-wo?”

Her little four-year-old voice was almost enough to cool West’s temper. But not quite. “Sweetheart, put your mama on the phone.”

“Hi, Unka West. Hows comes you’re not home? I don’t got my Dora ‘toons.”

If he were home right now, he would’ve pulled her onto his lap and watched Dora with her all day long. But he had a few fish to fry before he could put her life back to normal. And she’d never know it.

“I got some things to do, baby. Where’s your mama?” West peered through the binoculars again as Montana dropped the phone with a plunk. Pirate Pete was better known to West as Patrick Flaherty, former smuggling partner to Charlie and his brother, Joey. Charlie always suspected Flaherty had something to do with Joey’s disappearance. Flaherty had never given anyone reason to believe otherwise. Even if Charlie was wrong about that, though, Flaherty wasn’t an angel. He was the reason Joey had to hide the treasure and send the map to Charlie, thus starting a 60-year spiral of gloom and doom for the Bellamy family.

The old bastard stopped at the railing of the ship and scratched his balding head as he surveyed the island. The sun was to West’s back, so it wouldn’t cast any reflection off the lenses of the binoculars, but West still scooted back. Of everyone he’d identified, Flaherty was the last person he wanted to face. West had just gotten his driver’s license the last time he’d seen the man, but fifteen years wasn’t long enough to erase the memory of the wiry little bastard who’d sent Charlie into a three-week drunken stupor after a tense five-minute visit.

Muffled sounds came over the phone, then Montana spoke again. “Mama don’t want to buy nothin’, Unka West.”

Funny. West didn’t have any intention of buying anything Sheila was selling either.

His niece let out a high-pitched cry a split second before Sheila came on the phone. “West! Little shit didn’t tell me it was you. Did you find it already?”

He shoved his anger back into the same mental closet he reserved for his resentment of Charlie. It was too early in the morning to give Sheila the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to him. “Which one are the condoms for?”

“Condoms? What are you talking about?” The innocence oozing from her voice set his teeth on edge. Sheila did naïve as well as her roof kept water out.

Flaherty leaned over the side of the ship and spit brown juice into the water. West scowled at both of them. “Condoms. The ones you hid in the gear you gave me yesterday. Rubbers. Birth control. You know- ah, nevermind. Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to.”

He didn’t have any trouble imagining her eyes hardening into sapphires. “You better have a damn good reason for calling to attack me over my children if you ever want to see them again. I should’ve kicked your ass out before you ever moved in here.”

He should’ve kicked his own ass for ever needing to move in with her. But waking up to baby drool and questions about which outfit would make Barbie prettier made it worthwhile to deal with obnoxious customers at the lumberyard and tough professors at school. He leaned into the rock and trained the binoculars back on the women. Those donuts looked more gross than orgasmic. He briefly wondered if Buttercup would still eat them if she knew where Flaherty’s hands had been. “Yeah? Who’d feed your kids then?”

“Screw you.”

“You screwed me pretty good, sending me to this hell hole. How many more surprises you got planned for me this week?”

“You’re an ungrateful shithead, you know that? You know what it costs to make a call on that thing?” Her tone was hot enough to melt his ear wax.

But he’d lived with her long enough to not care. “You know what it’s going to cost if you don’t level with me?”

A thick wall of silence was his answer.

“The brunette was awful nice this morning.” He trained the binoculars on the old woman. Couldn’t say he’d ever seen anyone wearing a stuffed parrot before. “Would’ve preferred a redhead, but if she knows the right tricks, I’m thinking a little bonus might be in order. Some gold coins maybe. Or jewels. That sounds like something Charlie would’ve stolen.”

Sheila sucked in an audible breath. “You bastard. You wouldn’t dare.”

He’d do a lot of things if it would make Sheila mad. “Why not? It’s what you sent her here for. Now the blond, she’s not my speed, but I don’t think I could turn down a threesome. Guy like me doesn’t get that chance every day.”

She paused for half a second. “You called me to talk about your sex life? Eddie is going to kick my ass when he gets the bill. You want that on your conscience? I got you to the goddamn island, you take care of the rest. And don’t you dare call again until you’ve got that treasure in your hands, you hear me?”

“Half the hemisphere heard you.” So Sheila’s rotten-ass boyfriend helped Sheila set up this mess. West’d had enough of her piss-poor taste in men interfering with his life. Two kids, two fathers who had every excuse not to be there. West would’ve given his right arm for either one of the kids, but he shouldn’t have had to.

“You find that treasure-”

“No.”

“What did you say?”

“Don’t think I’m going to be looking for a treasure for you when you can’t tell me the real situation.” Felt damn good to be in charge for once.

“God, West, don’t do this.” Panic. Now that was a new tactic for Sheila. “Eddie found out about the treasure, and he wants it any way he can get it. If you don’t bring it back, I don’t know what he’ll do. To me, to the kids. You have to find it, West.”

West bit back a string of obscenities. It was classic Sheila. Hit him where it hurt the most. And he fell for it every time, because he wouldn’t risk it finally being the truth the one time he refused to help. “He threatened the kids?”

Sheila’s voice dropped. “Not in so many words, but I could see it in his eyes. I think he’ll do it, West.”

Of course she did. “And he’s got friends to help him out and people you owe money to for extra pressure to get his hands on Charlie’s treasure, doesn’t he?”

“Do you even care if they get hurt?” She’d be standing in the kitchen, one hand fisted on a hip, eyes shooting fireballs at him for being an insensitive asshole.

How he ended up the bad guy was one of those mysteries women cooked up to keep men in line. He hated those games. “So what’s he going to do to them when we find out Charlie’s goddamn treasure is a bag of marbles and a fake love potion?”

“Oh, I get it. Now that you got some fancy schoolin’, you’re too damn good for your past.”

West balled his own hand into a fist. She could hold the world responsible for their situation as much as she wanted, but she shouldn’t have belittled his efforts to rise above it. “Didn’t need fancy schoolin’ to learn you’re a manipulative bitch.”

“You want that treasure,” she spat. “You know you do. Don’t be stupid. Don’t make my kids suffer for Charlie’s mistakes.”

She was right. He wanted the treasure. He wanted stop suffering for Charlie’s mistakes too. “One condition.”

“Are you kidding? Don’t you care about them at all?”

No, he’d sacrificed any opportunity to have a life of his own to take care of Sheila’s kids because it sounded like a fun time. “I want to talk to Eddie.”

“You can’t-”

“I’m calling back at seven tonight. You make sure Eddie’s there, or I’m gonna spend the week drinking mojitos and making good use of those condoms you packed me with the lovely ladies on the pirate ship.”

“How am I-”

“You got your problems, I got mine. Seven o’clock. Understood?” Without waiting for an answer, he severed the connection.

Paradise would’ve been nice if family hadn’t gotten involved.

* * *

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Munchkin vs. His Future

The other day at breakfast, Munchkin looked at me and said, “Mommy, when I’m in college, what grade will Squeaker be in?”

“When you start college, your brother will be starting his sophomore year of high school, and your sister will be starting eighth grade,” I told him.

“Well, what about when I graduate college?”

“He’ll start his sophomore year of college, and Buttercup will be a senior in high school. Unless you stay in school to get a master’s degree or a law degree or a doctorate or something.”

“And then I’ll have to support myself?”

“Yep.”

“Hm.” He chewed on his bacon for a minute, then nodded at me. “Unless my wife supports me,” he said.

I covered a cough behind my eggs. “Do you want your wife to support you?”

“Yeah.”

“And then you’ll stay home with the kids?”

“Yeah. I like kids.”

This seemed like a pretty sound plan, except for one part. “So, who’s your wife going to be, Munchkin?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I guess I’ll just pick one someday.”

And there you have it. True love and marriage, as explained by a six-year-old.

* * *

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Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

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The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

A Year of Happy Mondays, the Random Weekend Edition

Little Big Town! :-)

Did y’all check out the first two chapters of STEALING GRAN’S BOOTY, the goofy pirate treasure hunt romance I wrote several years ago and am presenting to y’all here just for fun? Chapter one is here, and chapter two is here! 

It was a crazy-busy weekend, y’all! We went to a block party, then a Little Big Town concert, then had a slumber party, and then topped it off with a birthday party. So for your happy Monday smiles today, I present to you ten random things my children (and SuperHubby) said and did this weekend.

10. Munchkin made a list of things he’ll need when he’s a grown-up. The list includes, “iPad, iPhone, money, a car, a bike, a house, and food.” (In that order. Priorities, y’all.)

9. At 5:45 Sunday morning, Squeaker woke up and yelled, “And God made Adam, and that was good.” And then went back to sleep.

8. Buttercup self-taught herself yoga by attempting to also teach herself the proper use of toilet paper.

7. Squeaker declared himself the “Dragon of Poopy.”

6. In the car, Buttercup chanted, “Wa-ha-ha-ppbbbtt!” for twenty straight minutes.

5. Munchkin walked up to SuperHubby and me in bed Sunday morning at 5:45, Rogert the Raccoon pressed to his bare chest, and said, “I’m nursing Rogert back to health.”

4. Buttercup snuggled SuperHubby for a 2-hour nap Sunday afternoon. (Y’all – this never happens.)

3. Squeaker’s newest battle cry is “Shacka-lacka-poopy!”

2. When Munchkin wears his Ninjago pajamas, that’s when he has secret ninja time in his sleep.

1. SuperHubby turning Little Big Town’s song “Pontoon” into something completely inappropriate simply by waggling his eyebrows while singing along to the “Ooooh, motor boating!” part.

Hope y’all had a great weekend and that this week treats you like royalty!

* * *

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Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

 

Pirate Weekend Bonus – Stealing Gran’s Booty, Chapter Two!

Because yesterday was Talk Like A Pirate Day, and because my borderline unhealthy obsession with Sid Meier’s Pirates! video game inspired me to write a contemporary pirate treasure hunt romance many, many years ago, and because y’all were so kind about the completely unedited chapter of said contemporary pirate treasure hunt romance yesterday, today I’m sharing chapter two with you. (And I hope that’s the longest sentence you’ll find in this blog post.)

Did you miss Chapter One? Find it here!

And on to….

Stealing Gran’s Booty

Chapter Two

A light breeze rustled through the weeds and bushes around Westley Bellamy, but it didn’t stir him a bit. As the last of the sunlight faded from the sky, he held perfectly still with only his eyes and lungs moving. The leafy plants around him smelled like their insides had been boiled by one too many days of tropical heat. Hell, the whole island smelled rotten, as if decades of hiding a smuggling job gone wrong had taken its toll.

Errant leaves scratched his cheek, but he didn’t swipe them away. His feet and calves ached from holding his position, but the night wasn’t dark enough to hide him yet. He wasn’t worried about the princess down on the beach. He was worried about the invisible occupants of that pirate ship. They’d arrived too late for him to fully check out the situation.

Get in, get Charlie’s treasure, get out, and we’ll finally get what we’ve always deserved. Easy for his sister to say. Sheila’d used her boobs and her ten-month-old son as an excuse to stay back home in Miami while West got to deal with unexpected company. Drunken, high company by the looks of it. Not too surprising. Couldn’t be too many people who’d board that monstrosity of a boat sober.

If she had, she wouldn’t have stayed that way long. He knew her type. The white and khaki getup, the balance issues, the yippy mutt and the personal manservant telegraphed her entire existence. High school valedictorian, sorority president, rising star in some fancy high rise downtown. Booze, joints, and slumming it with guys like West on the weekend. Trust fund to keep her company in the meantime. He’d been a sucker for good girls gone wild most of his life, but he didn’t do the stoners anymore. Didn’t get stoned himself either.

What he did do was take care of his family. Sheila was a pain in the ass, but her kids deserved a good life, and he wasn’t going to let some joy-riding asses with more money than morals screw up the only opportunity he’d probably ever have to finally put Charlie’s damn legacy to rest.

Twenty minutes later, he decided the princess on the beach was probably going to stay alone tonight, and it was as dark as it was going to get. He needed to get back to camp and get some rest so he could be a step ahead of these morons in the morning. He hoped they’d leave, but a lifetime of living the short end of the stick had him mentally preparing to dodge the princess’s group until he could get rid of them. His legs creaked out a protest as he stood from his hiding spot between a saw palmetto and an overgrown yucca. The slope of the hill was gentle here, but the climb out was still a tedious process in the dark. He angled down so he emerged from the trees south of the brunette’s location, one more shadow in a sea of grays and blacks. Once in the reedy vegetation at the perimeter of the tree line, he moved faster.

Frustration rolled out of him as he crashed through the grasses and wildflowers, his backpack thumping against his spine. The sound wouldn’t carry to the princess. Even if she was sober enough to understand the noise, the rhythmic music of the ocean would’ve drowned it out before it reached her ears.

It felt good to move, but the exertion couldn’t take the edge off the itch he felt in that deep, dark part of himself he hadn’t visited since Charlie’s funeral. Even his bones were tense long before the pirate ship made its untimely appearance. This was the island. The island that guarded Charlie’s lost treasure. Whatever that treasure was, he never said. Claimed the fewer who knew, the better, but it would’ve made them rich. Instead, all Charlie had to show for a lifetime of treasure talk were two lost grandkids who didn’t know any better than to blame everyone else for everything they didn’t have. It was how Charlie lived his life. Why give West and Sheila the opportunity to know they could be better?

At least Montana and Jerrod would never know the bastard. Last Tuesday, when West tucked her into bed, Montana asked if Santa Claus could bring her a real live unicorn that she could ride to preschool. Charlie would’ve told her Santa Claus didn’t come to poor folks. West got to convince her imaginary unicorns were more fun.   Maybe someday she’d hate him for that, but she deserved to have her dreams.

“Arf?”

West stumbled to a stop. Damn dog was supposed to be asleep with the princess. It must’ve heard him moving. Chest heaving, he bent over and sought out the right shadow. “Go home,” he growled into the mutt’s face.

It jumped up and licked at his nose. “Arf!”

He glanced back. No sign the dog’s owner had raised herself from her stupor to investigate. But he hunched lower and scanned his surroundings to be sure. Wind rustled through the trees and vegetation, but nothing else moved.

“Arf?”

“Hush.”

On second thought, this was perfect. If the princess wanted her dog, she could come get it. On West’s terms, namely that she get the hell off his island. He scooped the dog up and tucked it under his arm. It licked at his skin, its wet tongue cool against the evening humidity. The mutt’s fur was still damp and smelled like seaweed. Pooch like this was probably used to getting doggie pedicures while Princess Mama paid out the nose for her own pampering. It must’ve enjoyed being a dog for a day.

It wriggled its little body. He scratched its ears and was rewarded with one of those happy doggies sighs and another lick on the arm.

With one last glance around, West rose from the weeds. Damn woman shouldn’t let a dog roam free on this island. She couldn’t have believed the dog would stay there with her all night when there was so much trouble for it to get into. He snorted to himself. Dog like this was probably replaceable in her book. Who cared if she lost it on a wild island? She’d get a new one when she got home. Turn on the crocodile tears for daddy and maybe she’d get two. Maybe she wouldn’t come looking for it at all.

But odds were, she’d be looking. Women like her didn’t bring purse dogs to islands to lose them, they brought ‘em so they could pretend they had maternal instincts. Only question was if it would take her until morning to realize baby poochie was gone. No matter. Whenever she decided it was time to come get her dog, he’d be ready for her. Ready with an invitation to take her pirate ship and dock it somewhere else.

* * *

Raina gradually swam out of happy sleep land, arching her back into her bed and stretching out her legs. She didn’t remember giving morning permission to start. Time for another talk with the sun. Eyes closed, she scratched her nose. Her bed wasn’t usually this hard. Was her toilet running? And what had she stepped in before going to bed last night? Something gritty itched between her toes.

Both her eyes flew open. She sprang into a sitting position and groaned. Dawn had brought a beautiful, pink-hued sky over brilliant azure water. Fluffy clouds danced in the distance. The gentle watery hum was the ocean, not her toilet. The breeze, though chilly, washed over her, its salty scent a lot more pleasant this morning than it had been yesterday. But she couldn’t enjoy any of it, because the stupid pirate ship loomed over it all, grinning at her with all the evil a tourist pirate ship could muster. Day two of hell.

And speaking of hell, where was the dog? Heidi would be unbearable enough today after the mutt’s swim last night. “Xena?”

The word came out on a croak. No better way to start the day than waking up as Raina the Ribbeter, landlubber and failed dog-sitter. She fumbled for the water Jack left last night. The dizziness was gone, but her stomach muscles ached from yesterday’s continual deposits to the Bank of Neptune. Pirate Pete better have some good drugs on that ship if Raina was going to make it back to Miami at the end of the week.

She crawled to the edge of the blanket but paused. There was that gritty feeling again, this time somewhere decidedly north of her toes. Now how had sand had gotten there? The blanket was a little twisted, but not that much. And she still had her clothes on. This had to be hell. Where else would sand have feet and a fetish for dark bodily orifices? Maybe it had kidnapped the dog. “Xena!”

A muffled yip answered somewhere behind her. She glanced back at the tree-covered hill rising from the shore. Crap.

She shoved her shoes on and clipped the walkie-talkie to her belt, grabbed a granola bar from the duffel bag, and headed toward the woods. Some of those weeds were pointy and prickly-looking, and some of those bushes were twice her height and just as wide, but she suspected this wouldn’t be the only time she’d get up close and personal with them. Probably too much to hope Gran had hired rent-a-dates for coconut oil rub-downs and pina colada service. If there was hired entertainment here, they’d probably have to prove their manliness by pulling down pine trees and eating the bark. Survivor: Hell Island was so Gran’s style.

Raina shook her head. Gran hadn’t brought rent-a-dates. No other ships were here, and there hadn’t been any extra men on board. But she still expected they’d spend a good bit of time in the woods. Maybe they were here to play island bird bingo. Or classify a new species of reptiles. Raina shuddered. Jack wouldn’t have left her alone last night if there were snakes on the island, would he?

His innocent, ever-optimistic grin flashed through her mind. On second thought, Jack probably didn’t even know what a snake was. He was pretty naïve for a guy old enough to be her uncle.

She stepped up to the edge of the overgrown bushes and peered into the dark forest. “Xena! Here girl!”

Somewhere further south, the dog yipped again. Raina sighed. Heidi needed to bring a leash and dog treats. Until then, they were going to have to do this the hard way.

Raina circled along in the sand, following the sound of Xena’s yips until she was out of sight of the pirate ship. She must’ve circled a quarter of the island. She could clearly see the sun peeking up over the horizon from where she stood now. Xena yipped again, closer this time, but still in the woods. At least the slope was less steep here.

Raina located a break in the wall of mangled branches and odd-shaped leaves, a gate in nature’s version of a privacy fence, and she trudged into the forest. The morning light dimmed under the canopy of palms and pine branches. More tropical vegetation met her and blocked her way. There were short bushes, tall bushes, long palms fanning out in all directions from squat little bases, vines draped over anything and everything, all in different shades of green against the gray and brown backdrops of pine and palm trunks. She’d never seen pine trees like this. The trunks must’ve been a foot wide, rising twenty or thirty feet in the air before branches stretched out, the pine needles clumped together like bottle brushes at the very end of the branches. As for the palm trunks, they were thickly bristled but just as wide. Nothing but nature had been on this island for a long, long time.

Razor-sharp vegetation nipped at her bare calves as she picked her way through the overgrown tropical forest. Some paradise. Where were the white sand beaches as far as she could see? The flowers and the passion fruit and the citrus trees? The tiki huts and bartenders?

Oh, right. Gran planned this trip.

She called for the dog again. No answer. The island wasn’t that big. If she didn’t catch Xena before the rest of her family came over from the pirate ship, the pup would show up eventually.

Raina eyed the uneven terrain. Or Xena might fall into a hole and break her little doggie legs. Or chase after a lizard and accidentally leap off a cliff. Eat a poisonous berry. Meet an overgrown Venus fly trap that’d developed a taste for dog. Discover the door to another dimension and get crushed by the Loch Ness monster.

Her pulse suddenly racing, she shook her head. She hadn’t rescued the dog from Pirate Pete only to have her fall and break her little doggie neck in this crazy rain forest. Xena the wonder mutt was going to have to show herself and get back on the beach.

The pup let out a gleeful yip somewhere nearby. Raina pushed aside an overgrown mass of spindly white branches and sickly-looking leaves and gingerly stepped over a tangled mess of roots. Morning sunlight filtered through the trees, illuminating the pup’s black and tan fur against a gray rock just ahead. She took another step. “Xena, come!”

The pup cocked her head up at Raina, flashed a doggie grin, and darted back into the brush. Resigned to this new game, Raina followed her, ducking and twisting around each island obstacle as it presented itself.

It took half an hour, but Xena’s wriggly little body finally came back into view in a small clearing off to the right. Raina took an instinctive step toward her and stumbled over a tree root, pitching head-first into a spiderweb. Silken strands of glue stretched across her cheeks, from her eyebrows down to her chin. Arms windmilling, she managed to right herself before sacrificing more skin to the palm-shaped weedy things.

She rubbed at the sticky threads clinging to her nose and eyelashes and glared at the dog. “Sit.”

Ever non-obedient, Xena danced up and down on her little doggie legs. Raina could almost hear her thoughts. Look! Lookie what I found! Can we keep it? Huh? Huh? Can we? Please please please?

Raina stepped forward, watching the dog and the ground alternately as she swiped at errant wisps of web on her forehead. What had the mutt found this time? Killer squirrels? A black hole? Mermaids? Whatever it was, Xena’s enthusiasm almost made Raina curious. Mostly though, she wanted to get the dog back down to the beach before she gave Heidi another reason to get hysterical. Doggie therapy. Whatever.

She pushed through the last of the leafy brush and stepped into a clearing, still rubbing the spiderweb off her face. Xena sat on a bed of dried pine needles at the edge of a pretty little pond, eyes bright, tail swishing against the ground. She gave a short yip and cocked her head. Pretty cool, isn’t it? she seemed to say. Raina followed the dog’s line of sight. When she realized exactly what Xena had found this time, her hands fell away from her face and she had a hard time not gawking.

A tropical rent-a-date stood next to a threadbare green blanket between the woods and the pond, legs wide, thumbs tucked into the belt loops of his worn denim jeans, staring at her like she was a banana mango pancake with an iced coconut frappacino on the side. Did other people’s grandmothers hire gigolos?

He was exactly what she’d expect of Gran’s version of a gigolo cabana boy. Muscles, tan, shirtless, blah blah. The morning sunlight streamed through the trees and landed on him as if he were the island’s gift to the world. It was a wonder the tropical birds didn’t burst into a round of the Hallelujah Chorus.

He got points for being younger and more attractive than the pirate crew. But if Gran thought one peek at an island hottie would convince Raina to quit bringing lesbians to family functions, she better consult her compass again. If Raina ever decided to jump back into the dating pool, she wouldn’t start with a guy whose ego was probably the only thing more solid than his curvy biceps.

He crossed his arms over a tight chest lightly sprinkled with hair and flicked a glance at Xena, who trotted over to prostrate herself at his feet. “That dog shouldn’t be here.”

He spoke softly, but his deep voice rumbled across the clearing and shook something a little too delicate inside Raina’s ribcage. She shivered and pushed the sensation away. Tropical illusion, that was all. But as the words took precedence over the sound, she realized it was something else. Maybe he shouldn’t be here either. But- “Say that again.”

An irritated spark lit his pale blue eyes. “A responsible pet owner would’ve left it at home.”

Raina caught herself before she leapt in the air with glee. Talk Like A Pirate Day was officially over. She smothered a grin right along with the urge to kiss him. No reason to encourage him. It would take a lot more than normal human speak for Gran to win this one. Besides, if he was the first in a string of many, it was too soon to be picking favorites. “Glad to see you’re using those muscles to keep a firm grip on the obvious. Good work.”

His lip curled ever so slightly as he widened his stance. “So you like what you see, do you?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s obviously what I’ve got.”

“You think so?”

Like a half-naked guy would be on this island for any other reason? How many more were there? “I know my Gran, and I know what she’s willing to pay for. Do we really need to play out this game?”

His eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Yep.”

“And why’s that?”

He tapped his bicep. “Because it’s not for sale.”

She choked back a laugh. The rest of him was up on the auction block, but not his muscles, hmm? She wouldn’t be making any bids. She had Gran’s number with this guy. No way would she buy into the island sex slave business.

But what if she could use him to teach Gran to stay out of her love life?

She cleared her throat. He tapped a finger against one of those not-for-sale, gym-made biceps. Oh, yes. This would be perfect. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that. Muscle is usually so expensive. And heavy. But yours would be cheaper since you’ve got a little smudge there on your right one.”

His lips barely moved, but there was that voice making a little sweat dribble down her back all the same. “What’s your game?”

She twitched her shoulders. Jeez, maybe Gran picked this one because his crankies were as bad as Raina’s. “I want to get the hell off this island and go home.” In the meantime, she wanted to get revenge on Gran the Devil.

He gestured with his elbow. “Boat’s that way, princess. Be my pleasure to see you off.”

An involuntary shudder rattled through her body. “Funny.” Gran hadn’t bothered with the kiss-butt type this time around, had she? This was a new tactic. She’d have to stay on her toes with this one. Maybe the other ones would be more agreeable.

Xena yipped and jumped at his knees. He gestured to the pup, skeptical cynicism darkening his eyes. “That dog’s gonna get hurt here.”

He was mad about Xena? Raina could’ve died on that pirate ship, but this guy wanted to make sure the dog was okay. True, the island was inhospitable. Xena still would’ve fared worse under Pirate Pete. “She knew what she was getting into when she volunteered to be my guard dog.”

He ran a hand over his short-cropped hair as he looked down at the dog, who had flopped onto her back and beseeched him with her best pet my belly, please, mister look. He squatted down and obliged the mutt. “You’ve got bad taste in guard dogs.”

She shrugged. “I make do with what I’ve got.” Though how she planned to make use of him wasn’t looking like a great idea. Like anybody would believe Captain Grumpy Pants could convince Raina she wasn’t the kiss of death for relationships. The way it looked, she’d have more luck convincing him to french the dog.

But who said he had to agree? In fact, she didn’t have to tell him at all. She’d do her thing, and let him do his. Whatever it was. Maybe Gran had arranged for massages on the beach after all.   Those long fingers stroking the dog’s belly looked like they knew their way around the coconut oil. Maybe Raina had ruined the surprise of his entrance and that’s what had his tighty-whities in a bunch. Maybe he was supposed to play the part of a sea captain who’d lost his crew in a storm and had come to do the women’s bidding as penance. Knowing Gran, she’d do some ceremonial walking of the plank thing to fully absolve him of his sins. There’d probably be a wet t-shirt contest involved too.

She really needed to stop thinking about him all wet.

He cut his eyes to her, his gaze sliding down her chest as if he was looking forward to the wet t-shirts too. “This fluffball isn’t fit to guard its own kibble.”

Bickering. Bickering was good. “Some protection is better than none.”

He continued to stroke Xena’s belly, and the dog let out a contented sigh. Did all men have fingers that long?

He nodded at her breasts. “She supposed to protect you from that?”

Raina blinked. “Protect me from-”

She broke off with a shriek as her gaze followed his. All coherent thought stopped as she threw her hands up and away from danger. The largest, ugliest, yellowest spider she’d ever seen crawled halfway into her shirt between the buttons right at nipple level. She struggled to inhale and her legs began to wobble. Did it have to be spiders? She was so not a spider person.

Maybe if she closed her eyes and thought real hard, she’d realize this was a dream. That she was comfy and cozy back home in her queen size bed with her 800-thread-count sheets. She had real plumbing ten feet away in her bathroom, and not a grain of sand in any bodily orifice. The pirate ship didn’t exist. It was all a nightmare.

She cracked open one eye.

The spider was still there.

Okay, she could do this. She could get rid of the big icky spider. As long as she didn’t think about its spindly legs reaching inside her shirt to fondle her boobs, she’d be fine. About its fuzzy body snuggling into what passed as her cleavage. Building her a new spider web bra. Laughing at the gigolo cabana rent-a-date because it got to see what was under Raina’s shirt and he didn’t.

Her eyes stung. If she moved, it would move. It was already too far inside her shirt, and that wasn’t its head sticking out. No way would she smash it. Thinking about icky yellow spider guts was enough to turn her gills green again. Thinking about icky yellow spider guts against her skin when she didn’t have real plumbing was almost worth getting hysterical over.

Fingers tingling, she sucked in air. She could do this. All she had to do was grab on to one itty bitty spider leg and throw that little creepy crawly back into the jungle where it could rejoin its creepy crawly family. The creepy crawly family would be so grateful to Raina for returning its prodigal son, it would promise to leave her alone for the next week. Maybe they’d talk to their creepy crawly cousins about the same deal. Yeah. She could do this.

Calloused fingers entered her field of vision. She blinked, and the spider disappeared.

Raina shrieked again. Adrenaline surged through her body as she launched herself into the ultimate girly-girl dance. She bounced up and down, tugging and yanking her shirt, twisting, jerking, anything to get rid of the spider. Her stomach itched. Her chest tingled all over. Beads of sweat left a sticky path down her back. She hoped that was sweat. She couldn’t see, couldn’t make her fingers work at the buttons. “Get it out! Get it out!”

“This little guy?”

One foot still in the air, heart pounding double-time, shirt half-unbuttoned, she blinked at him. He held the spider in the palm of his hand, turning his wrist as the little beast explored its new terrain, apparently not the least bit troubled by the fact that it was huge and gross and had come within a half-inch of molesting Raina’s boobs.

She dropped her foot and tugged her shirt back into place, still panting but slowly regaining control. She snuck a glance down her shirt, just to be sure. Three buttons undone, but otherwise all clear. No icky yellow spider guts anywhere. “Uh, yeah. Thank you.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

She’d almost been violated by eight arms of terror. Why did he have to look at her like she was a wuss? “Spiders don’t really bother me.” Except they did, and that thing was worse than a spider. That was a horny, man-eating death creature from the bowels of paradise-gone-wrong. She shouldn’t have to explain the obvious to him. “They’re not so friendly back home.”

He grunted and turned away. Between the attitude and happily waving the spider in her face, he wasn’t shaping up to be dream boat material. It wouldn’t be easy to convince Gran she was in love with him. And he’d better wash his hands before he thought about getting within seeing distance of her again.

So maybe she should concentrate on the positive. Like the view of his back. It was just a back, with sloped shoulders and tight ripply muscles and two cute little dimples right above the waistline of his worn jeans. She snapped her gaze up to the back of his head. She knew her limits. Could she go there and still plausibly claim he was only average in the physically attractive department? At least she had a long list of unattractive features to fall back on if she accidentally enjoyed the view more than she should. Like his personality.

He stopped next to one of those palmy weed thingies and bent over.

Go on, you know you want to.

Raina gritted her teeth. First Gran, now her inner lust wench. She definitely couldn’t deal with her lust wench on top of everything else. And now the cabana boy had released the spider back into the wild instead of treating her to a manly show of smashing it or eating it or doing whatever cavemen did. They were all conspiring against her.

It’s not like you have to keep him, her lust wench taunted. Take a look. Enjoy the view. Throw him back when you’re done with him. Love, lust, it’s all the same when you’re not playing for keeps.

He straightened and turned back around. Shoulders back, lips set in a line, he met her gaze with a challenge in his eyes. Daring her to mock him for setting the spider free? Or was it something else?

Whatever it was lurking beneath that intense gaze, she got the distinct impression he wouldn’t take any crap from her. As if she hadn’t already figured that out.

Good. Game on. “Could you turn back around? I wasn’t finished.”

“Buttoning your shirt?”

“Ogling your ass.”

His lips tightened in the corners. “That’s not for sale either.”

Fine. If he wanted to play the game, she’d humor him. “Then maybe you’d like to give a girl some peace while she buttons her shirt.”

“Last I checked, wasn’t me interrupting the peace here.”

His eyes were hard as flint, his stance wide and confident. This guy wanted a fight, and she didn’t know why. But she couldn’t suppress the little thrill at the thought of figuring out the puzzle of Gran’s mystery man. It’d been a while since she’d had some excitement in her life. “A thousand apologies, Captain Crankypants. Xena and I-”

Raina broke off as she realized the clearing was missing one dirty, matted furball. “Where’s Xena?”

* * *

And thus ends chapter two. Enjoy your weekend!

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Jamie vs. The Pirates, aka A Pirate Romance, Chapter One

Arrr!! Ahoy, there, matey, and a happy Talk Like A Pirate Day to ye, all ye landlubbers!

In honor of my favorite holiday of the year, this year I’m doing something extra-special. I’m reaching deep into the dusty treasure box of my computer to pull up the contemporary pirate treasure hunt romance that I wrote eight years ago when I was in the early stages of mastering my craft. It’s fun, it’s campy, and it’s a little crazy in places, but I think that’s why y’all like me. And so today, I’m posting the first chapter for you in all its unedited glory. Give it a read and let me know if you want more.

Stealing Gran’s Booty

by Jamie Farrell

Chapter One

Paradise was hell, and Raina Bishop’s grandmother was the devil in pirate’s clothes.

Satan was nearby. Raina could smell her. Eau de Mothball was Gran’s sulfur, a side effect of the origins of her makeshift pirate outfit. The mothballs mingled with the sea breeze and tickled the back of Raina’s throat. She needed fresh air. Now. But her limp arms and jello legs wouldn’t heed the command to move.

The wooden bench beneath her lurched, spinning her head down into the murky depths of a gray-tinged nausea. There were plenty of other places to sit on deck. So why did Satan need to disturb her peace? No need to open her eyes to confirm it was Gran. Nobody else on the ship was brave enough to get close to the landlubber.

The tap-tap-tap of an army boot against the wooden deck rattled the sludge in Raina’s head. Gran hummed a few bars of some pirate song she’d been singing all day, then abruptly stopped. “You be knowing why pirates don’t never get them green gills you got? It’s ’cause they be so horny.”

The bench jiggled. Tiny white lights danced behind Raina’s eyelids. If she lived through this boat ride, maybe she’d suggest senility meds for Gran. Her midsection clenched, and heat rose to her face. Not again. Holy mother of Davy Jones, she didn’t have anything left to give.

Gran shifted her weight on the bench. Raina clutched at her stomach as reds and purples bounced behind her eyelids. Gran poked her shoulder. “See, they be getting their sea legs by rolling with the wenches afore they leave port. So I be thinking we needs to get you some action when it be time to weigh anchor and sail home.”

A fine sheen of perspiration dampened Raina’s forehead. The devil woman wouldn’t even let her be seasick in peace. Giving up suddenly seemed like a good idea. If Raina died here, right now, Gran would have to give up her quest to find Raina a soul mate. No more mothballs, no more Satan, no more rent-a-dates showing up at her door back home or copies of the Kama Sutra in her Christmas stocking.

“And don’t you be telling me no stories ‘bout that girl you done brought to dinner last week. I be seeing through that, matey. It be time to be getting back on the sausage wagon.”

Raina dropped her arm over her eyes and groaned. Now was not the time to discuss Toni. Especially if Gran had seen through the act. Sweet merciful Neptune, Gran was not bringing the rent-a-dates to the island. She wouldn’t. Raina was going to be sick. Again.

“There, there.” Gran patted Raina’s knee with hands unnaturally cold for someone with such close ties to hell. “It be okay. We done gonna get you a real man. Lots to be had. Take Pirate Pete, for example. Well, maybe not Pirate Pete. I be saving him for me.”

Raina shoved up from the bench and bent over the side of the pirate ship, panting to keep control as the world spun around her. “Gran. Not now.”

Soft blue waves lapped at the faux-wood side of the boat. Raina squeezed her eyes shut as pressure built behind her nose, the familiar rocking sensation once more triggering a bout of nausea. Her brain melted into a sandy sludge that tilted with the rhythm of the sea, sending her head back and forth, back and forth.

Gran edged up against her and lowered her voice. “It done be helpful for them crankies you got too.”

Raina gulped at the sea air. Land would be helpful for her crankies. Beautiful, solid, non-rocking land. With a bed. And earplugs to drown out the ocean. Maybe drown out Gran, too. Tomorrow she’d want a tiki hut and a beach chair. For now, she’d take getting her head firmly reattached to her neck.

She opened her eyes and blinked down at the ocean.

It wasn’t moving. Sure, there were waves, but they were coming to the boat instead of the other way around.

Slowly, carefully, she straightened and reclaimed control of her head. Hope coursed through her veins. The engine vibrations had stopped. The breeze lacked the bite of motion. Were they finally there?

She squinted against the glare of the sun in its evening descent. Somewhere out there, somewhere close by, there had to be land. The final destination. Heaven. But reflected sunlight sparkled and danced off the tips of ocean waves as far as she could see.

She plopped back down on the bench. There could’ve been any number of reasons for the ship to stop in the middle of the sea. It was out of gas. The engines blew up. Pirate Pete’s crew went on strike. Gran had asked them to stop so she could admire the same water from a different nautical coordinate. Or maybe this truly was hell, or at least the door to it, and they were all going swimming with the jellyfish in shark-infested waters. Maybe Pirate Pete hid the concrete shoes in the crew’s quarters and that’s why it was off-limits.

A piercing shriek sliced through her muddled thoughts. Instinct outweighed her better judgment as Raina jerked her head in the direction of the sound. Her cousin, Heidi, darted out of the guest quarters at the back of the ship, her blond hair flying behind her like angel wings coming to take Raina to heaven. “Put her down!”

Raina blinked through another wave of the queasies. Pirate Pete swam in duplicate in the center of her vision. She blinked again, and the crusty old sea captain almost came into focus across the deck. He dangled Heidi’s Yorki-poo, a runt of a dog named Xena, over the edge of the railing by the scruff of her neck. His old leathery face had turned a rather unique shade of purple. “Little bitch pissed on me peg leg.”

Pirate Pete’s peg leg was painted down the front of his jeans. Xena probably thought she’d made a fashion statement. Maybe Raina should take aim at it next time her stomach lurched, just for good measure.

Heidi lunged for the dog. “If you’d let her use the poop deck-”

“Me poop deck ain’t for poopin’!”

Gran nudged Raina. “Some day I be talking pirate that good.”

Maybe she should be a hermit. They didn’t have grandmothers who sponsored trips to hell on the Pirate Dinner Theater Cruise.

Xena’s legs pumped frantically and she let out a mournful yowl, her black ears tilted back over her furry tan head. But something beyond her caught Raina’s eye.

Land.

Solid, sandy, tree-covered land with a clear blue sky above it.

The island sat happily in the ocean not far from the ship. So why weren’t they on shore? Couldn’t anybody else hear the sweet song of welcome crooning through the trees? Couldn’t they see the soft, soothing beach waiting to hug them like long-lost lovers? Taste the promise of rainbows and fairy dew in the air?

She was halfway across the deck before she realized she’d moved. She trod over the wooden deck planks with leaden feet suddenly light as sunshine. She shoved between Heidi and Pirate Pete and pointed to the dog. “Dog. Me. Land. Now.”

Gran elbowed her way in. “But it don’t be time for going to shore. We be doing that tomorrow when it be time for the rest of the surprise.”

Oh, goody. Another surprise. Maybe they were going to play Survivor: Hell Island with the rent-a-dates. She knew who she’d vote off first.

Heidi pushed at Raina to get to the pirate, but he dodged her and let Xena slip a notch lower in his gnarled fist. The pup let out a howl, and Heidi whimpered. “Give her back. She’ll be good, I swear.”

“I be thinking.” Pirate Pete’s faded hazel eyes darted between Raina and her grandmother as they both stared at him. If Gran thought paying for the boat and flirting with the captain would win this, she’d seriously underestimated Raina’s love of land.

Finally, Pirate Pete’s gaze flickered down to the ground. “I done gots me orders.” He didn’t let go of Xena, but he didn’t pull her back to safety either.

Legs wobbling, Raina gulped down another breath of sea air. She’d jump overboard and swim before she’d stay on this boat another minute. “Hand over the dog, or I’ll give your peg leg something to complain about.”

Pirate Pete sucked in a breath with a little whistle. He glanced at Gran again, his hand wobbling. Raina made a small retching noise, and Pirate Pete seemed to give up the fight. He shoved the dog at her and ordered one of the crew to prepare a rowboat.

But before Raina could follow him, a hand grabbed her arm and whirled her around. Heidi’s flame-blue eyes crackled with something Raina didn’t care to analyze.   “You’ve done enough damage today. You are not taking my dog too.”

Raina choked back a gag. “What are you talking about?”

Heidi flipped a hand toward the ocean. “Do you have any idea how much waste you put out there today? There’s only so much clean water in the world, and you’re treating it like your personal toilet.”

“If you don’t let go of me, you might be my personal toilet.”

Heidi’s lip curled. “Fine. You get off the boat. Xena’s staying here.”

Raina held tight to the little animal, her furry body oddly comforting in the midst of another bout of nausea. “You think Pirate Pete’s going to let her stay on this ship?”

“Ain’t nobody going nowhere.” Gran stomped her foot. “That island be off-limits ’til I say it don’t be.” She marched off toward Pirate Pete.

The stooped old man scowled at Heidi. “That dog be getting off me boat, or we be having mutt stew for grub.”

Heidi paled, but she still cocked a hip to one side and eyed Raina with undisguised contempt. “Don’t you dare ruin this.”

“Ruin what? Hell?”

Faint lines marred Heidi’s pale forehead. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“I get that I need to get to land. Anything else can wait.”

“That’s the whole problem. Everyone thinks their own problems are more important than the world’s problems. When are you people going to understand?”

Raina stumbled backwards as she turned to trail after Gran. The deck swam before her eyes. The ship was anchored. Why wouldn’t the darn thing hold still? “I wasn’t polluting. I was feeding the fish.”

Heidi marched on Raina’s heels and huffed. “Xena better not have a single hair out of place when I get over there tomorrow morning.”

“Oooh, I’m shaking.”

“I’m so not kidding. Do you know how expensive doggie therapy is?”

Not near as expensive as paying for the arrangements when Raina died of vacation overexposure. She took another step and nearly swooned onto Pirate Pete. “Where is my chariot?”

Pirate Pete flung a rope ladder over the side of the ship. “Down there.”

Down there. A short little trip down a wobbly ladder off a wobbly ship to get on another boat that could get her to shore without getting stuck in the sand. She was so close now. Just a few more steps-

Gran pushed in between Raina and the ladder. “Now you be listening here-”

Raina summoned up her last bit of patience and pointed across the deck. “Look! A cracken!”

While Gran turned with an excited shout, Raina swung one leg over the railing and found her footing on the ladder. She held the dog in a death grip and steadied herself with her other hand. Once she had salvation in sight, there was no stopping her.

The climb down went smoother than she’d hoped. Jack, the gap-toothed first mate, held a small motorboat steady in the water next to the larger pirate ship. He took the dog while she made the last few steps, then handed Xena back. Raina stepped into the smaller vessel with a weak but grateful smile. Land ho.

Jack untied the rope holding the boat to the pirate ship and settled into the seat next to the motor. “You just hold on tight there, Miss Raina, and we get you to shore in no time. You too, Miss Xena.”

He pulled the rip cord to start the engine. The sound tore through Raina’s head. Stars swum before her eyes. The small vessel took off with a lurch and bounced across the water, and Raina had to grab onto the edge of the boat to keep her balance. She’d have a bruised butt in the morning, but who cared? She’d be on solid ground.

Xena squirmed, so Raina gripped her tighter. They were so close. The water around the boat melted from the deep sea blue to a light turquoise green as they approached shore. Raina’s hair whipped behind her, the assault of the wind a welcome diversion. But her world shook once more as the boat bounced over a wave and sent sea spray into her eyes. Xena wiggled free and landed into the bottom of the small boat. Tongue lolling, she bounded once, twice. With a look in her eyes that screamed Geranimo!, she leapt over the edge.

“No!” Raina lunged for the dog, but it was too late. Legs tucked underneath her like a reindeer, Xena soared through the air. The boat sped past the dog while she hung in mid-air with her black and tan fur billowing around her. She swished her tail as if the motion could propel her up and away from all her earthly troubles.

But an over-named pup was no match for the laws of gravity. She landed in the wake of the boat with a delicate plop! Jack slowed the motor as Xena doggie-paddled behind them, soaked fur hanging in her eyes while her little head bobbed above the water. Raina didn’t have to imagine Heidi’s outraged cries. They echoed across the water with perfect clarity.

The engine stopped a moment before the boat quit rocking, though Raina’s head still swam. Jack propped the engine up and out of the sand, and his weathered face split into a grin. “We be here, sure enough.”

Xena paddled past the boat, panting audibly over the little splashes of her paws. Raina swore the dog winked at Jack as she swam past. A wave carried her the rest of the way onto the beach, where she stretched her legs and gave her coat a body-wriggling shake.

Apparently the dog was as happy to be on land as Raina was. The mutt could’ve starred in an ad for canine Ritalin. First she turned in circles, then she dug a moat halfway around a pile of sea debris. She flipped onto her back and swished her tail to make a doggie snow angel, then repeated the process, all before Raina had a leg out of the boat. So much for not a single hair out of place.

Raina cautiously pushed to standing on wobbly legs. She swung herself the rest of the way out of the boat and took a dizzy step. That was weird. One leg was longer than the other. No, now the other leg was longer.

Or maybe it was the motion of the island.

She sank to the ground and pressed her palms into her eyes. Islands didn’t float. It wasn’t possible. So why was the world still spinning?

Jack shuffled past her. “Miss Raina, you gonna want to move up the beach some so’s the tide don’t get you. I got you some supplies here, water and blankets and whatnot.”

She didn’t want his supplies. She wanted to be home. “Thank you.”

A few deep breaths later, the world wasn’t so spinny. Moving slow, she climbed back to her feet. She pitched left as she tried to walk toward Jack. She caught herself, but making her way through the sand wasn’t as easy as those TV ads for paradise made it seem. Especially with a wet, filthy dog bounding around her heels.

Jack’s perpetually goofy expression faltered as she joined him closer to the tree line. He held out a walkie-talkie. “Your gramma want ever’one to carry one of these here things. You know how t’ use it?”

Raina nodded. Her sludgy brain rocked into her forehead and made her sway. “Not my first vacation with Gran.” But it might be her last. “Code names?”

“Aye. Your pirate name be Buttercup. Miss Eleanor’s The Governor. Miss Heidi be Tinkerbell, and your mama’s Blackbeard.”

She was more worried with staying upright than she was with how her mom would feel about that. While she swayed, Jack set up a makeshift camp for her. Every time she blinked, something had been added. A blanket to sleep on. A water bottle with the cap unscrewed, food graciously out of sight in the brown saddle bag he left on shore. He pressed a flashlight into her hands. “You be okay down here tonight?”

She blinked at him. “Yeah. Gonna sleep.” After the boat ride, she could’ve comfortably slept on a bed of hot nails. The sooner she found her happy unconscious place, the better.

“You give a holler, you hear? This island be safe, no gators or nothing, but pro’bly not what you used to.”

Raina waved him off. “We’ll be fine. Better tomorrow. Promise.”

While Jack shuffled through the sand back to the boat, Raina kicked off her Reeboks and gave the dog a come here gesture. Xena hunkered down on her front paws, rear in the air, and wagged her water-logged tail.

Raina sighed. “Fine. But can you at least stay close by?”

Xena yipped. No doggie translator necessary to figure out Xena’s intentions tonight. No way, lady. I got me an island to explore.

With a half-groan, Raina leaned back onto the blanket. Heidi should’ve left the dog at home. But she hadn’t, and Raina liked the pup too much to leave her fate to Pirate Pete. “Just be back here in the morning. And do not get hurt. Understand?”

Another yip. Raina’s eyelids slid down over her eyes. The world still swayed around her, but it was getting better, as if the island acknowledged the looming darkness of night was a signal to slow down, even out. Give the weary some rest.

Xena’s wet little body snuggled up next to Raina. Pup must’ve changed her mind about exploring. Good. They needed sleep if they had any chance of surviving Gran’s next surprise.

Davy Jones help them all.

* * *

And there you have it! Chapter one of Stealing Gran’s Booty. (Yes, yes I did think that title up all by myself.) Intrigued? Or are you ready to label me as a weirdo and move on? Either way, I hope you have a wonderful Talk Like A Pirate Day! And be sure to stop by Krispy Kreme and say ahoy to the landlubbers there and get your free booty, er, donut too!  Happy Friday, ye scallywags!

* * *

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Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

Jamie’s Sister vs. The Goose

As part of our girls’ weekend in San Francisco, my sisters and mom and I went on a couple winery tours. My baby sister, like CJ Blue’s baby sister in The Husband Games, is technically a little older than just barely legal to drink, but she’s still my baby sister. And while we were standing in the tasting room of the Whitehall Lane Winery, she suddenly squealed and jumped like a girl who’d accidentally touched a cattle prod.

I gaped at my mom. So did baby sister. Because, seriously–our mom is cool and all, but goosing one of us? That’s just so unlike her!

And then Mom had the nerve to glare at me. “Jamie! Don’t do that to your sister!”

Like I was the one who had goosed my baby sister. Just because I wrote about a goosing grandma in The Husband Games (and who may or may not make an appearance in The Battle of The Boyfriends), suddenly I’m responsible for all the goosing that goes on in the family.

But Mom looked genuinely upset with me.

And that’s when it all because crystal clear.

It’s always the middle child, y’all.

My other sister, the middle child, was standing there on the other side, giggling and snickering, because she’d just nearly pulled off the perfect goosing.

I pointed at her. “Not me,” I said.

And the guilty hilarity of her laugh gave her away.

So we were driving home a few hours later, talking about good times, when my baby sister poked me. “I still can’t believe you goosed me,” she said.

And she was completely serious.

Because they had all forgotten who the gooser is in the family.

I will have my payback, y’all. One day, I will have my payback.

* * *

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Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play

My Sister vs. The Kilted Bell Boy

When my mom and sisters and I flew in for our girls’ weekend, it took three travel itineraries to get us all here. Mom and my youngest sister flew together, my middle sister flew later in the day from the same place, and I flew in from DC.

My middle sister was the last to get there. She was scheduled to arrive in San Francisco around 9 PM Saturday night, but weather mucked up her connecting flight and then delayed it, which meant she pulled into the hotel about 11:30.

Without her bags.

And, y’all, her bags had our matching T-shirts for our Napa Valley winery tour day!

But sometime in the middle of the night, the airline delivered her bags to the hotel. She and I were sharing a room (Mom and our baby sister were in another room), so I snuck up and out of bed around 5 AM, got showered, and sat down to sneak in an hour of writing time. But she woke up, we started chatting instead, and she called down to the desk to have her bags brought up.

Ten minutes later, the bell boy knocked on the door.

She handed me a couple dollars for a tip. “Can you get that?” she said. She was still in bed. And– “I’m not wearing pants.”

So I went to the door and opened it for the bell boy, who was a very nice young man who was also quite concerned. “They only brought one bag,” he said. “I don’t know where the rest of the bags are.”

I leaned back into the room. “Hey,” I called to my sister, “did you have just one bag, or more than one?”

“Just one,” she yelled back.

The bell boy eyed me.

Because it was suddenly obvious that the bag was not actually mine.

“It’s okay,” I stage whispered to him. “She’s not wearing any pants.”

He nodded sagely, took his tip, and let me wheel the bag into the room.

Where my sister was glaring at me. “You told him I wasn’t wearing pants!” she shrieked. (She kinda has the same tone as our mom when she loses a shoe off the cable car.)

“Oh, come on,” I said. “He doesn’t know what you look like. You two could have a full conversation later today, and he’d never know you were the one who wasn’t wearing any pants this morning. Besides, I can promise you, at some point today, he wasn’t wearing any pants either.”

She cocked an eye at me, and then suddenly dissolved into giggles. “Now I’m picturing my bell boy in a kilt,” she said.

And then I was picturing Jamie Fraser delivering my sister’s bags, and suddenly I wished our bell boy had been in a kilt. And that he’d come back.

Ah, well. We all have our regrets.

Hope y’all have a great Wednesday!

* * *

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Buy Jamie’s books:

Southern Fried Blues at Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble |  Kobo |  iBooks  |  Google Play  | Smashwords

Mr. Good Enough at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks |Google Play | Kobo

The Husband Games at Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iBooks | Kobo | Google Play