Blue Colla Make Ya Holla

by Laramie Briscoe

  Returning home, we quickly put the house for sale and look for a new place. I want a house with all the fancy fixtures. Winston craves an older house with space and character. We compromise when he convinces me to buy a fixer upper and promises he’ll remodel it to my liking. By the time our first son is born, the house has all the character he likes and all the shiny newness I crave. The house has a workshop with space for his Harleys and a mancave. I’m more interested in the fancy kitchen where I keep my stash of Skittles.

  We also find a compromise when naming our children. No Captain America or G.I. Joe, but we do choose solidly male names. Mitchell and Gregory seem less likely than their father to run into girls with the same names. Our final child is a girl and Winston figures Princess Barbie should work. We spend nine months bouncing around names. The boys are big fans of Jessie like from Toy Story. Winston fears his little princess will end up in a class with a boy Jesse. He’s obsessed with this fear, so we name her Grace. I figure she’s unlikely to meet a penis-sporting Grace.

  Three kids is a lot, but Winston and I make a great team. I’m the organized mom while he’s at the roughhousing dad. I teach the kids to cook. He teaches them to fix cars. The kids grow up knowing both of our clubs, respecting both big balls and bigger bank accounts.

  Bethany finally uses the Dentist’s name after he eats a brownie she baked then doesn’t brush for an entire hour. They’re married a year later and I’m soon blessed with a niece and nephew sporting excellent teeth and an affinity for snide comments. Zulma is thrilled to have mommy play dates and real girls’ nights out. We even enjoy family vacations together to Disneyworld.

  Everything fell into place once I got drunk and went looking for my rebound guy. Rather than finding a one-night stand, I met someone I thought I’d lost forever. The boy who made my toes curl as a teenager grew up to be the man of my dreams.

  The End

  About Bijou

  Living in Indiana with my three sweet sons, three wacky cats, one super mom (and her ugly dog), I love writing, cats, Denny’s, 1970’s rock, Beanie Boos, and sitcoms cancelled before their time.

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  Rescuing the Bridesmaid

  Stella Hunter

  An accidental meeting between tow truck driver Nate Whitmore and nurse Joanne Johnson blossoms into something more as Joanne deals with maid-of-honor duties for her friend’s weekend wedding and a cheating ex-fiancé.

  Chapter One

  ‡

  Nate pulled into the parking lot of the bar looking for the older-model blue Cadillac that was next on his list. He loved this time of the day, just after sunrise. It was so quiet, even in downtown Nashville. Especially on a Saturday morning. His truck windows were rolled down to take advantage of the spring breeze, which ruffled his dark blond hair.

  He spotted the Caddy off to the side of the bar—it was the only car left in the lot—and pointed his tow truck in that direction. Bubba’s Tow and Impound managed many of the parking lots for local businesses in the city, and Nate was here to collect his next charge.

  He maneuvered his truck behind the Caddy and jumped from the cab to get started. He walked around the vehicle inspecting it for damage and checking for tow points. Coming around to the driver’s side, he reached for the door to see if it was unlocked.

  He pulled on the door and it swung open. He leaned in, checking to see if keys had been left in the ignition. When he didn’t find any, he glanced around the floor and along the seat. As he stuck his head over the seat to look in the back, he saw something move, and he jumped in surprise.

  Thin, bare legs shifted on the leather seat. He followed the line of them up to find a woman asleep in the back seat. More likely she was passed out, he thought, considering their location in a bar parking lot. Nate moved to the back door and opened it. He paused as he considered what he should do. In all his years driving a tow truck, he’d never found a woman passed out in a car. A couple of men, sure, but never a woman. He needed to wake her up and see if she was okay.

  He reached out a hand but paused before he touched her leg. His eyes traveled up again. She was in a skirt, leaving most of her legs bare. Everything about her looked fashionable, from her stilettos to her styled blonde hair. Should I touch her? Will she freak out if she wakes up to find a strange man in her car? A dirty working man, at that. A glance down at himself revealed that at least his clothes were still clean this morning and not covered in dirty and grease.

  “Ma’am,” he called, his hand still hovering several inches above her leg. She didn’t respond. “Ma’am,” he called louder. This time she shifted a little, but still didn’t open her eyes. Finally, he grasped her ankle lightly. Her pale skin was cool to his touch, and he felt her shiver when he touched her. He gave her a gentle shake. “Ma’am, you need to wake up,” he called again.

  The blonde woman’s eyes shot open, and she pushed herself up on her hands. She blinked rapidly then lifted a hand to rub her eyes. Her makeup smeared as she did so, and Nate tried not to laugh at the black streak that now went from the corner of her eye down her cheek. He chastised himself. He could at least try to give her a little respect. Even if she didn’t respect herself enough not to pass out in a public parking lot. She did look kind of cute though, he decided, if a little skinny.

  She shifted her feet to the floor of the car and scooted closer to him. His upper torso was half inside the car from trying to rouse her, and her movements brought them uncomfortably close.

  “Oh, did I miss it?” she asked, still blinking and trying to come to her senses.

  “I don’t—”

  Finally, her eyes focused on him, and he felt her gaze travel down his chest. “Oh my. I didn’t expect a personal dance.” She put her hands on his shoulders and ran them over his T-shirt, emblazoned with the Bubba’s Towing logo, and down his chest. Nate was so shocked that he couldn’t move. What does this woman think she’s doing? She must still be drunk, he decided. She didn’t stop when she reached his jeans, running her hands over his crotch then down his legs. He reacted instantly to her touch, hardening underneath her hand. That was enough to break him out of his stupor, and he pulled away from her.

  “What the hell!”

  She reached into the floorboard and picked up her purse, rummaging through it until she drew out a few dollar bills. She reached for him again, and before he could move, she’d stuck the bills beneath his belt. “Is this what you’re looking for?” Her hands continued their exploration of his body, but her blue eyes found his finally.

  Nate grabbed her wrists and held them away from him. “Lady, you’re drunk. You need to go home.”

  “Of course I’m drunk.” Her voice still held a slight slur to it. “That’s the point.” She tried to break out of his hold and reach for him again. “And you and the alcohol are supposed to make me forget.”

  Nate pulled the bills out of his belt and shoved them into her hand, closing her fingers into a fist around them. “I am not your stripper. Do you even know where you are?” A hard edge had come to his voice. He knew it by the surprise on her face, the slight opening of her mouth. He relaxed his grip on her hand and softened his expression. He didn’t want to scare her.

  The woman glanced around for the first time since she’d sat up. And her surprise became even more pronounced. She combed her fingers through her short hair. “Um. Whe
re am I?”

  Nate released her then and let out a breath. “Sorry, lady. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re in the parking lot of the bar. It’s Saturday morning. Did you go out last night?”

  She was still looking around, as if trying to recall how she got there. “It’s Saturday? Why am I in the backseat? Why are you here?” At those last words, a dawning broke in her eyes, and she scooted back across the seat to get away from him as fast as she could.

  He recognized the sudden terror on her face, and he didn’t like it. He stepped back out of the car and held his hands up in placation. “It’s okay. My name’s Nate. I was supposed to tow your car. You’re not supposed to leave it overnight. Did you know that?”

  The woman looked around again, but slowly her body relaxed a little. “I’m still at the bar?”

  “That’s right. Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

  She scrutinized him then, but even separated by the width of the car and the few feet he had backed away, he still felt her stare. Her hand came up to cover her gaping mouth, and her pale skin deepened to a brilliant pink.

  “Oh my God. You’re not a stripper.” Nate shook his head then grinned as she buried her face in her hands. She was awfully cute like that with even her ears flushed red. “Oh my God. I’m so embarrassed.”

  Nate stepped back to the Caddy and stuck a hand inside. “Let me help you.” After a brief pause, he felt her small hand being placed in his. He tugged gently and helped her slide back across to the open door. As she stood on the pavement, she swayed, and his other hand automatically went to her waist to steady her.

  She was tall. As tall as he was, Nate realized. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  She nodded and ran her hands through her hair again, leaving strands sticking out in all directions. Nate’s lips twitched at the picture she presented with her mussed hair, streaked makeup, and wrinkled clothes. She was certainly not what he would have expected to find passed out in a bar parking lot.

  “I just don’t understand what I’m doing here. We had a bachelorette party. I remember the strippers.” She looked at him again. “That’s the last thing I remember. I’m sorry about…” She waved her hands towards his waist.

  Nate couldn’t help but grin. She really was cute. “Thinking I was a stripper?” he teased. “Don’t worry, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  She blushed again and dropped her chin to her chest. Suddenly, her head popped up, her eyes wide. “Oh my God. I’ve got to get home! Grannie will be worried about me.” She tried to push him out of the way, but he put slight pressure on her waist with his supporting hand, stopping her.

  “I don’t think you should drive.”

  Indignation rose in her eyes, and her mouth thinned. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  Nate kept his voice soft. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re still half drunk.”

  “I am not!”

  Nate stepped back, pulling his supporting arms away from her. She swayed on her feet and reached for the car to steady herself. He nodded. “See? You shouldn’t drive like that. Besides, I’m here to tow your car. Let me take you and your car home.”

  “You’d do that?”

  Nate shrugged. “Sure. It looks like you’ve had a hard enough time. I don’t want to make the day even worse.”

  The woman’s shoulders sagged, and she gave him a light smile. “Well, the day’s just started, and I already know it’s going to get worse. So, yeah, I’d really appreciate a ride home.”

  Without comment, he led the woman over to the passenger side of his tow truck and helped her into the seat. He wondered how her day could possibly be worse than it already was. She leaned her head back against the headrest, closed her eyes, and sighed. He stood there for a moment, just watching her, until she opened her eyes to look at him. He had been caught, and a hint of embarrassment crept in. He cleared his throat. “Ah, do you mind if I ask you your name?”

  “It’s Joanne, Joanne Johnson.”

  “Alright Joanne, let me get your car hooked up, and we’ll get you home.”

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Joanne watched in the side mirror as the tow truck driver hooked chains to her grandmother’s car and moved levers on the side of the truck to pull her car onto the bed. His T-shirt hugged the muscles of his arms as they flexed and moved. Nate, Joanne reminded herself. He said his name was Nate.

  With his back to her, he bent over, and Joanne raised an appreciative eyebrow at the way his jeans fit his tight ass. She sighed in regret that she didn’t have something that beautiful in her life. Just as well, she thought. I’m not woman enough to keep something that beautiful.

  Joanne forcefully turned her mind from the direction her thoughts were heading in. No, no, no. I will not descend into a funk today. Her best friend Ashlyn was depending on her. All the wedding prep had to be done today.

  She searched through her purse until she found her phone. Checking it, she saw several missed texts from her girlfriends and two voicemails, one of which was from Stanley, her recent ex-fiancé. She sighed again. She didn’t have to energy to deal with Stan right now. Instead, she sent a quick text to her friends to let them know she was okay, and she double-checked the time. Not even 9 a.m. She relaxed slightly. She had plenty of time to go home and get some real rest before she had to start prepping for the rehearsal dinner tonight and the wedding tomorrow.

  She shoved her phone back into her purse as Nate climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed his door shut. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded and gave him the address of her grandmother’s house in Green Hills.

  Joanne felt gross after spending the night in her car. In a car! She’d never in her life done something as stupid as that. Stanley had really done a number on her. Body, mind, and spirit. She needed to get over him, and fast, before she got in more trouble than she’d found herself in this morning. She scrubbed at her scalp with her fingers, but nothing seemed to make her feel anything other than gross. Digging through her purse yet again, she pulled out a makeup compact and popped it open. One glance at her reflection and she was mortified.

  “Oh my God! I look a mess. Why didn’t you tell me?” she accused Nate. She found a tissue and tried to wipe at the streaks on her face.

  Nate laughed. “I didn’t think it was the appropriate time to tell a woman I just met that she looked like a clown.”

  “I look like a clown! How can you laugh at me?” She threw the tissue at him, and he laughed even harder.

  “It’s not that bad.” He tossed a smile her way before turning his attention back to the road. “Besides, makes you look cute.”

  “Cute?”

  Nate kept his smile, but Joanne could see his grimace. “Yeah, like, approachable. I mean, look at you.” He gestured at her. “You look so fancy, you wouldn’t seem approachable normally.”

  “Approachable?” Joanne knew she sounded stupid repeating everything he said as a new question. But she didn’t understand what he was alluding to. Maybe I’m still drunk. Maybe that would explain why she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off those muscled arms. Even half asleep and all the way drunk, she recalled the feel of those muscles under her hands, and she wanted more. She also recalled groping at his crotch and the hardness she had felt there. Fire rose in her cheeks once more at the thought. But it was nice that she could affect a man, nice to know she wasn’t completely screwed up.

  Now his smile turned to a full grimace. “Sorry,” he told her. “You’re just not someone I’d usually feel comfortable talking too. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that most women like you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to me.”

  Realization dawned on Joanne, and she turned to face him, tucking her legs up on the seat between them. “You think I look down on you?” She saw him glance at her again, saw his gaze travel up her legs to her skirt now sitting high on her thighs. She shifted, uncomfortable with his perusal, especially sinc
e she looked a mess.

  “Maybe not you specifically, but most women of your class, yeah.”

  Joanne looked at her lap. “You’re probably right. Sorry, Nate. I don’t know if I’d have paid much attention to you either if I hadn’t been a damsel in distress today.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “You’re paying attention to me now?”

  A rush of heat swept over Joanne again, and she began to sweat even in the cool morning air. She was doing it again. She kept sticking her foot in her mouth. She turned her face to the window, trying to hide her reaction from him. “Um, yeah, I mean the stripper thing.” She waved her hand back towards where they’d been. “Obviously you have the body for it or I wouldn’t have made the assumption.” She refused to look at him although her eyes craved the sight.

  He turned the truck onto her street, and she quickly put her feet on the floorboard. As she did, she knocked her purse off the seat, and the contents spilled out into the truck. “Damn it!” She tried to pick everything up and point out her grandmother’s house on the left at the same time.

  Nate backed the truck into the drive. “I’ll get your car off the bed.” He jumped out before Joanne could say anything.

  When Joanne had crammed everything back into her purse, she opened the door and looked down. The truck cab was high off the ground. A slim running board ran a foot below the door, but it was still awfully high off the ground, even with Joanne’s long legs. Joanne eyed her heels skeptically. Just the thought of jumping down made her dizzy.

  As Joanne was contemplating the best way to climb down, Nate walked up beside the door. “Need help?”

  As much as she hated to admit it, right now she did. She’d embarrassed herself enough today. She didn’t want to fall flat on her face in her grandmother’s lawn in front of Nate and all the neighbors. “Please?” She nodded.