by Layne, Lyssa
He pulled off the highway and headed down the dusty road to his grandfather’s, he couldn’t wait to see the old man, his cousin, and Chris. Nick had spent enough time babysitting. Now it was Brad’s turn to make it up to his grandfather.
He pulled up to the house and killed the engine. He smiled and waved to his grandfather who sat rocking in his chair on the front porch then took the stairs two at a time, bent down and he engulfed his grandfather into a bear hug.
This was where he belonged.
“Where’s Nick?” Brad scanned the vicinity.
“He had to head back, son. Did you forget he has a business to run?”
“No, but he promised to look after you until I got back.”
“I know, but I had the best nurse available and I wasn’t about to say no when she offered to help me around here.”
“What? You have a girlfriend you forgot to tell me about, old man?” Brad grinned.
“As a matter of fact I do.” The grin on gramps face ran from ear to ear.
“You sly fox. I thought you were joking.” Brad stared at his grandfather, stunned at what he was hearing. After Grandma Jean, he never expected the man to look for company.
“Nope.” Brady folded his gnarled hands in his lap. “She’s a right purty one if you ask me?”
“What pretty girl would put up with your sass, old man?” Brad hitched his hands on his hips.
“Yours.” He leaned his head back and grinned.
“What?”
Brad followed his grandfather's gaze to the open front door. There stood Christine, an apron tied to her waist, and a dishrag in hand.
“Took you long enough to find your way home.” Her voice had never sounded so wonderful
Brad rose, stepping up to the door. “God I’ve missed you.”
“Good answer.” She flicked the dishrag at him.
He barely dodged it.
“I’ve made arrangements for my things to be shipped here.”
“Here—what about your work?”
“I couldn’t stand the thought of us apart. I figured if I had to come and beat you over the head with a cast iron skillet, I’d do just that, until you realize I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay.”
“Well then, I guess I’m home.”
“Correction, we’re home.”
Brady looked on, smiling for his grandson and himself. He looked up in the sky, and winked to a passing cloud. “Well, Jean, our boy’s home to stay.”
SNEAK PEEK AT THE RIDE OF HIS LIFE IN THE COWBOYS, BULLS AND BUCKLES BOX SET
Clayton Bronco rested his booted foot on the bottom rung of the fence. His forearms lay flat along the top, bent at the elbow, hands clasped in a practiced relaxed stance. The sun beat down from above. His pits and the back of his shirt were soaked. He adjusted his black Stetson to protect his neck while the bulls were being unloaded into the livestock area at the back of the arena.
The Tristar Casino arena in Thankful, Oklahoma was their latest stop and a crucial must win for the bull riding brothers.
As the usual chaos ensued for the final day of the event, bull riding officials converged at the registration desk for the championship round.
The smell of manure was ripe in the hot September heat. Some folks couldn’t stand it, even considered it offensive, but to Clay it was as welcome and inviting as the family ranch back home.
He scanned around him. Life was good. Rodeos and bull riding were his job and he lived for it as one half of the famous Bronco boys on the TBC and PCR circuit.
Clayton eyed the bulls being pushed into the enormous paddock trying to decide which one to claim for his next ride. There were only nine more weeks until the finals in Las Vegas. He needed a spectacular ride today, especially since he blew it yesterday in the first go round and dropped into second place.
Sometimes going into the short go round also known as the championship round, the riders were allowed to choose the bull to ride. Clay was always grateful for those times, they allowed him to take some of the biggest risks of his career, and so far they’d paid off.
The top ten riders lined the fence, leaning against or straddling it, trying to figure out which bull to place their confidence in to give them a win. The riders who didn’t make it to this round stood around jawing near the finalists and anxiously awaited the outcome for overall points and ranking.
A massive angry beast pawed the trucked in dirt, nudging the animals around him. The Brahma’s agitation incited the rest of the herd to stomp up a cloud of dust. The particularly aggressive brindle bull stuck his head in the air. Weedwacker, son of a retired legend, kicked the unfortunate animal behind him then head-butted the bull nearest. He bellowed, backed up then charged the fence as riders jumped to safety. The bull from hell shouldered the fence then pranced along the fence line and snorted in victory.
Clay swore the bull was mocking him, taunting and daring him to be drawn.
Quinton Bronco drew up beside his twin, nodded to him then stepped on the third rung to hoist his leg up to take in a full view of the bulls. “What’s it gonna be?”
“Depends? Do I want to win or just have a good ride?”
Quinton slugged his brother’s arm. “Shit Clay, that’s a stupid thing to say. It’s always about the win.”
“In that case I gotta go with Weedwacker.”
The rider behind Clay bumped against his back as he hopped off the fence and brushed past them in a hurry.
“Are you out of your mind? That’s suicide!”
Amazon Buy Link: https://amzn.com/B01JD282IM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today and Amazon Bestselling Author Deb Julienne is the author of multiple novels and anthologies. While some say truth is stranger than fiction, her experiences run more along the lines of a slap-stick comedy. She makes her own Limoncello...enough said.
After the day job at a major computer company, she loves to write, play in the yard with her grandkids, and in the kitchen concocting award-winning jams, jellies, preserves, and sauces (with alcohol of course).
Born and raised in San Jose, California, she now resides in her own little bit of heaven in the Sierra Tahoe National Forest Basin, with her husband of 35 years, their three sons and one daughter, and four very precious grandkids, and a menagerie of animals: 2 horses, 5 goats, and 3 sheep.
Unhurt
K.S. Thomas
Other Books by K.S. Thomas
I Call Him Brady
Save The Date
It’s Kinda My Thing
Bittersweet
Last Girl
I Think About You
Tin
One More Chapter
With Whom We Spend Our Lives
Until It’s Not (A Short Story)
Salty
Country Girls
Blood Bound
Drive
This Christmas
Lucky In Love
Getting Lucky (A Lucky Novella)
Series ~
Lost Avalon (A Finding Nolan Novel, #1)
Secret Hudson (A Finding Nolan Novel, #2)
Fallen Angel (A Finding Nolan Novel, #3)
&
Ten (A pINK Novelette)
Nine (A pINK Novel, #1)
Unhurt
Copyright © 2014 KS Thomas
All rights reserved.
For my godson, Jacob.
CHAPTER ONE
“Yo, Bobby! There’s some fine ass looking woman outside trying to get in,” I heard some guy yelling from inside. The double glass doors may have been locked but they were hardly soundproof.
I smirked. Not because some douche thought I was hot, but because I was anticipating the disappointed look on Bobby’s face when he came out from the back and realized the fine ass woman was just me.
I saw his head pop out from the beer cooler, his eyes squinting. It was gorgeous out, but the sun was probably blinding him considering he lived the life of a mole…or a bat. Whatever. Either way, owning a bar meant Bobby rar
ely saw daylight.
“Here, let her in.” He tossed the keys to the other guy. So far this mysterious stranger had stayed just far enough in the shadows for me to make out zip about him, aside from the fact that he was tall. Really tall. And broad.
“You know her?” The guy shook his head. “I need to get out more.”
Meanwhile, I was out and it was getting fucking hot out here.
Finally, the door opened.
“About time,” I mumbled as I burst in past him and went straight for the back of the bar where Bobby was busy fumbling around with one of the beer taps.
“I thought you were coming by earlier. What happened?” He wiped off the tap and threw the rag onto the counter behind him.
“For starters, you took the wrong keys when you left last night and I had to spend two hours hunting down my set of spares just so I could start my truck to get here.” I tossed a bundle of keys at him. “Must be nice having roommates who leave the door open for you.”
He grinned. “Probably helps that I keep my car keys with the bar set as well.” Just then the other guy came up beside me and slid the lanyard holding all the bar keys across the bar top back to Bobby.
“Yeah. Probably.” Bobby made me crazy sometimes. I was about to tell him so for the millionth time when I noticed the other dude just leaning up against the counter beside me, watching Bobby and me interact.
“Please don’t tell me you’re dating this guy.” He pointed at Bobby when he said it, an expression of disbelief to go with it.
“Ew.” I made a face. “I wasn’t going to.”
Bobby laughed. “I keep forgetting you two haven’t met. Derek, this is my sister. Joss, meet Derek.”
The previous look of disbelief was still there as he shifted his gaze back and forth between myself and my brother, only now it was accompanied with a touch of surprise. “You two are related?”
“Believe me, I’ve had my doubts about it, too.” I shook my head. I’d yet to see any resemblance between Bobby and me either and there were days I wondered if my mother’s jokes about the milkman had been all that funny. “So, Derek, is it? Don’t you think it’s a bit early in the day to be getting shitfaced?”
“I thought we talked about not judging my customers,” Bobby said dryly.
“And I’m not here for some unofficial happy hour.” Derek nodded over at the adjoining room where half of the floor had been pulled up. “I’m his contractor.”
“Oh. You’re that Derek.”
“That Derek? What does that mean?” His brows were knitted in confusion.
“Just means she thought you were an asshole before she met you and now she’s feeling stupid about it,” Bobby piped up from behind the counter where he was now putting away a tray of clean glasses.
“I didn’t think you were an asshole. I just…didn’t understand what was taking so long.” Up until recently my brother’s bar, The Flying Monk, had been fairly small, but with business doing well, he’d been ready to expand the place. So, he’d acquired the adjoining store and then hired Derek, apparently, to do the build for him. Which was all fine and good, but in my defense, Bobby had hired me to do a job as well, and I couldn’t do shit until Derek was done. Also, it was worth mentioning that I’d pictured Derek to be about twenty years older and a hundred pounds heavier…you know, like every other contractor I’d ever dealt with. But apparently my brother had access to the special ‘contractors-who-could-easily-pass-as-Ryan-Gosling’s-body-double’ pool when he did his hiring.
“You didn’t under – “ Derek straightened up from where he’d been comfortably leaning against the counter and started walking toward his mini construction zone. “Come here. I’ll show you what’s been taking so fucking long.” He kept mumbling as he went. “Understand what’s taking so long. You’ll understand in a minute…”
Next thing I knew I was standing in a pile of rubble, but I still didn’t get what I was looking at.
“What’s with all the pipes?” They looked like they were sprouting out of the ground every two feet like some sort of iron weeds. It was obvious what the problem was, but simply conceding that Derek had a point and that it was clear to me now why the renovations weren’t moving at the speed of light just seemed like a missed opportunity for easy entertainment. So, I kept my face blank and, using my most matter of fact voice, said, “I thought this was going to be a dance floor. Won’t those fuckers be a little hazardous for dancing? I mean, the word lawsuit is basically flashing in my mind as we speak.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Derek do a double take between myself and the flooring. His hands came forward to gesture something and then fell to his sides before he even got started. Finally he managed to formulate some words.
“It’s not like I put them there!” His one hand made a reappearance as he waved it at the minefield of pipes before us. “I’m trying to get rid of them all!”
My lips gave way to a crooked grin as I reached up to pat his shoulder. “Damn, getting you riled up is way too easy. Almost takes the fun out of it.”
His face fell. “You were fucking with me.”
“I was fucking with you.” I stepped further into the wreckage. “But seriously, what is all this shit? What was this? A gym shower room or something?”
He chuckled. “Close. Dog spa. Fucking mini bathtubs everywhere. Took me three days just to get them all out of here.”
“What did you do with them?” I had a sick addiction to other people’s trash. Not like, gross trash, but basically anything I could repurpose in some way. For some reason mini-bathtubs just screamed gardening to me.
“Right now they’re all loaded up in my trailer. Haven’t gotten much farther than that. Been too busy here.” I felt his hand touch my elbow. “Come on, we better get back to solid ground. I can still hear you saying the word lawsuit in the back of my mind.”
I laughed. “If I promise not to sue anyone, can we talk some more about those tubs? Because I could totally take them off your hands. You know, as a favor to you. My way of making it up to you for hassling you about how long you’re taking with this job.” The words were practically shooting from my lips at high speed in hopes that I could get Derek to take me up on my offer before we reached my brother again.
“Why would you do that exactly?” Judging from the suspicious way his eyes were squinting, Derek hadn’t bought it.
“I told you, to help you out.” I shrugged my shoulders, demonstrating how meaningless it all was, but in reality I was frothing at the mouth. I wanted those tubs. I wanted them bad. It had taken me all of thirty seconds to envision my backyard lined with those suckers all filled with dirt and fabulous little veggie plants sprouting over the top. Oh, and herbs. Fresh herbs. Yes. “I mean, look at the mess in there. When will you possibly have the time to deal with them yourself?”
Just then Bobby showed up again. “Them what?”
“Them tubs.” Derek nodded toward what was left of the dog spa. “Apparently your sister is itching to make a dump run.”
It was all over now.
“Yeah, right. She doesn’t even know what that is. Unless she thinks of her garage as a dump.” Bobby lifted his brows and nodded to himself. “And some days it looks like she does.”
“Would you stay out of this?” I refused to even face him and instead kept my eyes locked on Derek. “I’m serious though. I want the tubs. What’s it gonna take?”
What had started out as curiosity had quickly turned to pleasure. “What are you? One of those hoarders or something? You know, they have professional help for people like you. There’s no shame in it.”
I could hear Bobby laughing behind me but continued to ignore him.
“I’m not a hoarder, you jackass. I just like to recycle.”
“Is that what you’re calling it? You know, denial will be your biggest obstacle in reaching a successful recovery.” Derek’s blue eyes were sparking with pure delight, taunting me. If he hadn’t been a complete stranger I would have
slugged him for it. And here I had felt bad for screwing with him earlier.
“That’s fine,” I nodded. “It’s cool. Go ahead and make fun of me. But this job is going to take you a while, so I’m going to have ample opportunity to come back and torture you. And now that I know you’re down to play, I’m not going to go so easy on you.”
Derek smirked and glanced past me, over at my brother. “Should I be scared? Because that sounded like maybe I should be scared.”
“To be honest, I got a little scared for you.” They were both having way too much fun on at my expense, which Bobby apparently realized when he saw me scowling at him. “Hey want to sample some booze and call it a truce?”
“You’re bribing me with alcohol? Have you met me?”
“I have. This is a coffee flavored liqueur.” Damn, if ever there was a type of booze that might be of interest to me. “The rep brought it in as a sample. Guess it’s new so they’re pushing it on everyone.”
“And now you’re pushing it on me?” I pulled up a stool and had a seat. “Okay, one tiny little sample. But mix it in with something. I don’t want that shit straight.”
Derek had a seat beside me, but gave Bobby a dirty look when he held the bottle out toward him. “Yeah, I’ll pass. Pretty sure men aren’t allowed to drink anything with the word liqueur in the name.”
I shrugged. “I don’t see why that would be a problem for you.”
He clutched his chest dramatically. “Damn, girl.”
Meanwhile, Bobby still seemed to be pleasantly entertained by our antics from his side of the bar.
“Here we go. One coffee flavored girly drink and one very manly beer.” He set both down in front of us. “Now then, I’m going to finish doing inventory in the cooler. Try not to kill each other in my absence, would ya?”
