Bless Your Heart

by Kimbra Swain

  Feeling his breath on my hair, he spoke, “Good torture or bad torture? I might be up for both.”

  I stepped back and crossed my arms. The light returned to his eyes as his confidence returned. “I’ve changed my mind. You can go.” I flicked my hand dismissing him.

  “That’s it!” he laughed. “You don’t want me to go, Grace.”

  “Keep telling yourself that Dylan Riggs. We all have delusions that get us through our long lives,” I said stomping off to the car.

  “Grace,” he said sternly.

  “What?” I spun around on him.

  “Forgive me for 2 minutes, then you can go back to being mad,” he said.

  “Thirty seconds,” I replied.

  “One minute,” he countered.

  “Okay. One minute, starting right…” before I could say now, his lips met mine, and I melted. I let him work his lips against mine slow and passionate, but the moment I felt him press harder to part them. I pushed him away. “Minute’s up.”

  He groaned, “That was only 30 seconds!”

  “I guess instead of rushing in, you should have set a timer,” I replied.

  “You are a damn tease, Grace,” he said.

  “Torture, baby. It’s called torture,” I smiled.

  “I hate you,” he said.

  “No, you don’t,” I replied.

  “No, I don’t,” he repeated.

  “Let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving,” I said.

  He opened his mouth to say something vulgar. I stared at him daring him to say it. He shook his head and laughed. “Alright. Let’s go see Luther and Betty.”

  He offered me his hand, and Mr. Sandy Hair took me to lunch at the diner. We chatted about mundane things like football and the weather. I watched Luther and Betty flirt with each other, and wondered if Dylan and I would ever be that happy together. Could we get over the lies? Did I really trust him?

  After we ate, he dropped me off at the trailer. The truck sat in the driveway. I feared to go inside. Perhaps Levi couldn’t wait to swap gravy with Kadence Rayburn, but he appeared at the door waving at us. Dylan waved back.

  “Can we negotiate another minute?” he asked.

  “Nope,” I replied.

  “Aw, Grace, you know you forgive me. Just give in already,” he said.

  “There’s no fun in that,” I winked at him as I got out of the car. “You don’t have to walk me to the door.”

  With that he jumped out of the car walking up the wooden steps with me. “Thank you, Mr. Riggs for a nice meal.”

  “You are welcome. Want to do it again tomorrow?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve got all these royal duties now,” I replied.

  “I see. Well, if you can work me in, you have my number,” he said.

  “I’ll have my people contact you,” I said.

  His irresistible smile crossed his face. “Are you going to invite me in?”

  I opened the screen door and stepped inside. “Nope,” I replied.

  He groaned again.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” I said.

  “I can live with that,” he replied.

  “Live with what?” I asked.

  “Hope,” he said. “Besides you owe me 30 seconds, and you know it.”

  “Put it on my tab,” I replied.

  “You could just let me have it now,” he moved toward the door.

  “Goodnight, Dylan Riggs,” I replied shutting the door in his face.

  I heard him stomp off the porch. Rushing to the kitchen window, I watched him get in his car. I hoped my torture wasn’t too much for him, but I saw his smile as he backed out of the drive.

  Levi leaned up next to me. “What was that about?”

  “Torture,” I replied.

  “Damn. Fairy queen for one day and you are already torturing your subjects,” he jested.

  “He deserves it for all the lies,” I said.

  “Yeah, probably. But you have already forgiven him,” Levi said.

  “Yes, I have,” I confirmed. “But he doesn’t need to know that yet.”

  “Orange soda?” he asked. “He knows, Grace.”

  “Yes, please,” I said as he handed me one from the fridge. Looking back outside, the red tail lights of Dylan’s car slowly disappeared down Main Street. Winnie ran around the front yard of Bethany’s trailer with Cletus and Tater. They were catching fireflies. I hadn’t realized that Dylan and I spent as long as we did out at the stone circle. Levi watched Winnie playing with a light in his eyes.

  “Kadence.” I said.

  “Mmm,” he replied.

  I slapped him on the arm. “Levi Rearden, please tell me you didn’t sleep with her already!”

  “Heck no,” he said. “I’m a gentleman. I made a mistake with Lisette. Knowing now what I am, I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “Very honorable of you,” I replied.

  He sighed. “But she tastes like strawberries.”

  I died laughing as we watched the night creep in on the trailer park. After finishing the soda, I changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt when my phone buzzed. Laying back on my pillow, I looked at the text.

  “Can I negotiate now for a minute tomorrow?” Dylan’s text read.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t negotiate after I’ve gone to bed.” I texted back.

  “What are you wearing?” he texted back.

  “Goodnight, Dylan.” I returned.

  “Goodnight, Beautiful Grace,” was his reply.

  I sighed thinking about a teased game of pool and his warm body. The bed was cold and lonely now, but for now, I needed it to be. Levi was right. I had already forgiven him, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure what I’d gotten myself into being the Queen of the Exiles. Having no doubts about accepting my responsibilities, I looked forward to learning more about the fairy folk who lived in this town, but I also knew that trouble followed fairies. Did I intend to drag Dylan along for the ride? And Levi?

  They would have to make their own choices. I had a hunch they both would join me for the ride, but I decided to think about it all tomorrow. I picked up my phone and sent one more text.

  “One minute plus the 30 seconds that I owe you.”

  “You are so generous, my Queen. Bless your heart.”

  Acknowledgments

  When I was in college, I took a lot of English courses. While I loved literature, I found that I loved language even more. Semantics, origins, accents, dialects, colloquialisms and idioms thrilled me, and I gravitated toward classes about Linguistics. My senior year at the University of Alabama I took an accent and dialect class. The professor was what we lovingly called “a yankee.” I don’t recall exactly where she called home, but I learned one very important lesson from her.

  Language, as we learn it and the environment we learn it in, defines us. My knee-jerk reaction was that she was about to launch into a diatribe about speaking properly. However, her insight was much different, and one that I hold dear. We all speak the same language, but we don’t speak it the same way. There are proper ways to form sentences and converse. However, we should never shun dialects and accents. There are dialects that are slowly dying out.

  Born and raised in the south, I still cringe when I say “quit,” and it comes out more like “qweeit.” Despite all the public speaking and theater training, my southern still rears its pretty little head, but I’m reminded too, that it’s a part of who I am, where I came from and where I am going. Thank you, ya damn yank.

  As always, I give my utmost thanks to my family. I have a wonderful husband and daughter. My parents, as well as, my in-laws are so supportive of my dream to publish books. I am so blessed.

  My canvas crew which continues to grow: Kristie, Tabitha, Larry, Mike, Moragan, Chris, Sandi and Aaron. You guys give such great insights and propel me forward with enthusiasm for my work. If each book I write gets better, it’s in large part to all of you.

  My professional team: Hampton, the best cover designer for man
y reasons. Erica, who not only formats my files, but occasionally sends me great tidbits of information. Carol, who points out my mistakes, even the ones I make over and over.

  Finally to my readers, old and new, thank you for taking the time to read my words. Many of you have contacted me over the last couple of months to tell me that you enjoyed the book you read. That warms my heart. That’s what it is all about, you.

  About the Author

  From early in life Kimbra Swain was indoctrinated in the ways of geekdom. Raised on Star Wars, Tolkien, Superheroes and Voltron, she found herself immersed in a world of imagination. She started writing in high school, and completed her English degree from the University of Alabama in 2003.

  Her writing is influenced by a gamut of favorite authors including Jane Austen, J.R.R. Tolkien, L.M. Montgomery, Timothy Zahn, Kathy Reichs, Kevin Hearne and Jim Butcher.

  Born and raised in Alabama, Kimbra still lives there with her husband and 4 year-old daughter. When she isn't reading or writing, she plays PC games, makes jewelry and builds cars.

  Kimbra is currently writing Reincarnation, Book 3 of the Path to Redemption Series to be released in February, as well as two historical novellas for that series.

  Tinsel in a Tangle, Book 2 of the Fairy Tales of a Trailer Park Queen will be released before Christmas!

  Follow Kimbra on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Pinterest.

  www.kimbraswain.com

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  Sneak Peek

  TINSEL IN A TANGLE

  FAIRY TALES OF A TRAILER PARK QUEEN, BOOK 2

  A CHRISTMAS STORY

  DECEMBER 12TH

  Contorting my head sideways, I hoped to instruct my dear bard on the failure of his current task. “Levi, it’s crooked.”

  “No, it isn’t,” he complained.

  “Yes, it is, honey,” Kady said, sitting beside me.

  “It’s not fair that there are two of you to gang up on me,” he whined.

  “You have no holiday spirit,” I said giggling at him. “Dublin, the whole tree is crooked, not just the star.”

  Christmas back in the Otherworld was celebrated as Yule around the winter solstice. The longest day of the year. It symbolized the darkness giving into the light. I never really liked the celebration, plus I’d spent my entire life in the human realm avoiding the darkness. Especially the darkness within myself. The celebration always reminded me of no matter what the orbit of the sun, the darkness inside of me festered. However, the human celebrations of Christmas involved lots of lights, decorations, and family. I never had much family until recently, but I loved decorating a Christmas tree, stringing lights and baking cookies. In fact, Christmas was why I learned to cook.

  When I moved into my first trailer park, an older woman by the name of Sharolyn brought me into her family as one of her own. She loaned me her recipes teaching me all the shortcuts and secrets to really good food. I’d spent ages in the human realm, and what little contact I had with humans was generally sexual. Until Miss Sharolyn. Christmas reminded me of her and family.

  I finally had a family. A misfit one of sorts, but they were mine. As I watched Levi trying to set the tree straight, the cold recesses of my heart melted into the warmth of belonging somewhere. Home. Family. Christmas.

  “I don’t know why we are putting a star on it, because it’s supposed to be an angel,” he continued to moan.

  “The last thing an angel needs is a piece of evergreen up his butt,” I laughed. Kady laughed too, but Nestor Gwinn, the bar owner and my grandfather, huffed behind us. “What’s wrong, Nestor?”

  “Grace, have you ever met an angel?” he asked.

  “No, I hear they act like they have something stuck up their butt!” I laughed.

  “Honey, if you ever meet one, please run. For heaven’s sake, don’t speak to him. He’s liable to throw the gates of hell open and push you through,” Nestor warned. I turned to see if he as joking, but behind his smirk, I saw a twinge of fear. If he’d met an angel, I’d like to hear that story.

  “I’ve met an angel. She’s sitting next to you,” Levi said ogling Kady. Kadence Rayburn was the preacher’s daughter. They met at church a couple of months ago. They hit it off so well, I could hardly stand to stay in the trailer. If the trailer is rocking….

  She was a healthy girl with curves in all the right places. Her brown doe eyes drew my bard’s attentions from the moment he met her. For now, she made him happy. The day she stopped, I would end her.

  “Awe,” she cooed.

  I rolled my eyes. “Gag a maggot,” I teased.

  “Where’s Dylan?” Kady asked.

  “I am not Dylan’s keeper,” I replied.

  “She knows exactly where he is at all times. He reports in regularly,” Levi responded.

  “At this very moment, I do not, Levi Rearden. How dare you call me a liar?” I said. “Honey, the tree is straight now. Leave it alone.”

  “Okay, cool. Now I can hang these lights,” he said, dipping into the box of decorations that Nestor gave us to put up around the bar. I'd already hung green and red tinsel around the edges of the bar.

  “I’ll help,” Kady said, leaving me alone at the bar. The Hot Tin Roof Bar was the only watering hole in Shady Grove, Alabama. My grandfather ran it. Nestor Gwinn was a kelpie.

  A kelpie, an equine water fairy that lures passersby in order to trap them into their abode, was kind of fitting for the barkeep. However, he had no plans on drowning his patrons. It’s hard to get repeat sales when the customer is deceased.

  Levi Rearden was a changeling, and the first bard born into the known world in over a hundred years. I was his patron, Grace Ann Bryant, Trailer Park Queen. Actually, my official title was Queen of the Exiles, but I lived in a double wide, proudly sported a large tattoo on my right arm, and liked my shorts short. However, it was December, so I had on tight chocolate leggings with a burgundy tunic. Tall brown boots and a plaid scarf at my neck. Kady picked the outfit out. She said I looked cute.

  Shady Grove’s population was riddled with exiled fairies. Since I became their Queen a few months ago, the town grew exponentially. Many exiled fairies got the word that a Queen had emerged to protect them. When I agreed to this role, I didn’t realize the trouble I was getting myself into, but here I was.

  I turned my back on the love birds. They made me sick with all their touchy-feely crap. Nestor shook his head at me. The bar was mostly empty. One patron sat at the end of the bar with beady eyes munching on the free peanuts. He had an empty bottle of cheap beer.

  “May I have another cup?” I asked. Nestor made magical coffee. It not only warmed your body, but it soothed your soul. It seemed my soul needed a lot of soothing lately.

  “Sure,” he said refilling my cup. “So, where is Dylan?”

  “He drove into Tuscaloosa to get some paperwork for this fool idea of becoming a private investigator,” I said.

  “Grace, he’s not a sheriff anymore. Why is it a fool idea?” Nestor asked.

  “Because, what’s he gonna do? Stake out cow pastures for tippers?” I asked.

  Nestor laughed. “I’m sure he will find plenty of cases with the influx of fairies we’ve had lately,” he replied.

  “I suppose,” I grumbled. Levi had passed his bah humbug to me.

  “You really don’t want him to do it? What’s he supposed to do, Grace? Follow you around everywhere?” Nestor said.

  “No, I’m still mad at him,” I replied.

  “You’ve got to get over that,” he chided. I wasn’t really mad at Dylan Riggs who managed to get himself shot trying to save me. He died actually, but unbeknownst to me, he was a phoenix, rising from the ashes. He lied to me about a lot of things before and after he died. His death rocked me in a way I never imagined possible. We had a long friendship, a torrid one-night stand, and several mon
ths of bickering back and forth. Then he died forcing me to realize how important he was to me. I just wasn't ready after hundreds of years to commit to someone.

  As a fairy, my hormones and inclination for sexual connection erupt far more than the normal human. It made it hard for me to tell the difference between lust and love. However, when Dylan died, it ripped me to pieces. When he returned, I was madder than hell. We still spent time together, but we played a game where he would ask for a reprieve of my anger in small increments of time.

  “I’m afraid that if he gets involved with police work that he might die again,” I admitted quietly to Nestor. Long before I realized Nestor was my grandfather, he was my bartender. He listened to my problems, supplied my alcohol, and gave sound advice. I hadn't drunk much since Dylan returned. Nestor’s supernatural coffee was enough to soothe my apprehensions.

  “Fortunate for him he can rise from the dead,” Nestor pointed out.

  “Yes, but is there a limit on that kind of thing? Is there a way to kill him where he won’t come back?” I shuddered at my own statement. Sitting my cup down, I wringed my hands trying to calm the shaking. The mere thought of it terrified me.

  Nestor laid a warm hand over mine, watching me struggle. “Grace, we only get one life. Granted most of us have lived longer than we ever imagined, but you have to make the most of the time you have. Don’t let your fear of losing him keep you apart. Most of this town knows exactly how you feel about each other even if you won’t admit it.”

  “Hmph,” I grunted and turned back to the young couple hanging lights. “Looks good, guys!”

  The lights added a twinkle to the normally darkened bar. Nestor’s bar wasn’t exactly a dive, but it certainly wasn’t like the fancy ones I’d seen in photographs. I loved magazines, especially tabloids. I loved it here and was glad I could finally return after I spent so much time away from it after we hooked up the first time.