Sunday Snippet: King Stud Celebration

Yesterday I strapped myself to the laptop and finished the first draft of King Stud. It needs a bit of work before it’ll even be ready for beta readers, but typing that last word and hitting ‘save’ felt really good. To celebrate, I figured I’d post another snippet (previous King Stud snippets are here, here, here, here, & here). This bit is from Chapter 3 – Danielle has decided dating her best friend’s younger brother is a BAD idea, especially since he’s fairly hung up on his ex-girlfriend. Ryan’s still working on her house, though, and his presence regularly tests her resolve…

The view from Grandmother’s house (or Perkins Lane, in Seattle). Photo borrowed from seattlestairwaywalks.com/blog

Right about the time she started to wonder what was keeping him, a clattering crash followed by muffled curses broke up the evening peace. She jumped up and popped out the front door, to find Ryan on the porch, bent from the waist and clutching his right shoulder. A stack of two by sixes were fanned out across the front steps like a deck of cards spread for someone to cut.

“Are you okay?” Stupid question, Danielle. “I mean, what happened?”

Ryan tipped his face up and squinted at her. “Missed my step.”

“Come in the house.” She went to his good side and helped him straighten up. He shook her off and headed through the door, holding his right arm close to his body.

“I just wrenched it good. It’ll be okay,” he said, flexing and extending the fingers on his right hand.

“Let me help you take your jacket off.” Danielle kept her voice low and calm, without leaving room for argument. She moved her laptop out of the way so he could sit in the wing chair and he allowed her to pull off his coat. “We should put some ice on it.”

He tried to lift his arm. It reached shoulder height when a muttered “shit” told her that’s all he could do. “There’s a cold pack in the first aid kit in the back of the truck. Here are my keys.”

By the time she got back with the first aid kit, Ryan had pulled off his sweatshirt and was down to a faded blue tee with a Mariner’s slogan on the back. He had tugged the neckline down and turned his head as far as possible, his mouth twisted just a bit further, trying to see over his shoulder.

“Take your shirt off so I can make sure you’re not bleeding,” she said, then helped him pull the tee over his head. Even in the limited lamp light, a deep pink, fist-sized scuff mark was visible on the downhill side of his shoulder, with tiny beads of blood forming along the far edge and a deep purple blotch at the center.

He tried to lift his arm again and cursed, though this time he raised it above his ear. “Give me the cold pack.”

She handed it to him and he slapped it over the bruise, hissing when it hit his skin. “You didn’t have to set a trap to get me to take my shirt off,” he said with the hint of a chuckle in his voice.

“What?” Danielle squawked.

“Don’t deny it.” He shifted the cold pack a little, his grin turning sly.

She sat back on her heels and crossed her arms. “I need to get that porch light fixed.”

“Tell your contractor.”

“Um…” She accidentally let her eyes drift across his chest. Danger. Broad and buffed, it was all she could do to keep her tongue in her mouth.

Abdominal muscles formed perfect bricks, biceps swelled dangerously, and his chest was covered with a perfect scattering of dark curly hair. A quick glance at his eyes showed her he knew exactly what was going on in her head. That quick glance lengthened.

Not mine.

She looked off across the room. “You should maybe put your shirt back on. It’s cold in here.”

“That’s right, Princess. Show’s over.”

Ignoring his smirk, she reached over and helped ease the tee shirt over his injured side, then held the cold pack in place so he could get his other arm through the sleeve. When he reached up to claim the pack, his hand covered hers. For a brief moment she couldn’t move, then she shifted away, confused about his intention. Instead of snatching her hand back to the safety of her own lap, she rested it on the taut muscles at the back of his neck. He smelled a little like sawdust, like a guy who’d been working hard, and his raw masculinity made her want to curl around him like a kitten. Next to him, she’d be safe.

Except for all the reasons she couldn’t get close.

She finally gave in to the urge to touch him, dropping into work mode because it was easier than relationship mode. Like a good nurse, she started pressing her thumbs along the bands of stress running up from his shoulders. He leaned forward with a soft sigh, giving her better access. “Tight,” she muttered.

“Been a long couple days.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“The usual.”

She let her elbows bend so she could get more force behind her knuckles as she ran them up and over the tops of his shoulders. “I hope this job isn’t adding to it.”

“This job,” he said, letting his head hang loosely as she stroked him, his voice a sexy rumble, “is the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

~~~

Now, I can’t promise this’ll be the last King Stud excerpt, but with a bit of luck (and some more time spent strapped to the computer), I’ll be posting a cover reveal and release day news and…keeping my eyes on the prize!

Thanks for checking out my little celebration. What about you? How do you celebrate when you hit a milestone? And if you’re interested in doing a little beta reading, let me know!

Liv