He turned his brights on to see better in the pouring rain and realized there was a person walking along the edge of the road about a hundred yards up ahead. Obviously hearing his car approach, she turned to face him and he could see her long wet hair whipping around her shoulders in his headlights.
Wondering why she wasn't just waiting in her car, dry and warm, calling Triple A and waiting for them to come save her, he didn't take the time to put on a jacket as he got out of his car. The spring rain was as cold as it came in Northern California, but he was too focused on getting the woman out of the rain.
She was shivering as she stood and watched him approach, standing so still Chase immediately wondered if she was in shock.
"Are you hurt?"
She covered her cheek with one hand, but shook her head. "No."
He had to move closer to hear her over the sound of the water hitting the pavement in what were rapidly becoming hailstones. Even though he'd turned his headlights off, as his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, he was able to get a better look at her face.
Something inside of Chase's chest clenched tight.
Despite the long, dark hair plastered to her head and chest, regardless of the fact that looking like a drowned rat wasn't too far off the descriptive mark, her beauty stunned him.
In an instant his photographer's eye catalogued her features. Her mouth was a little too big, her eyes a little too wide-set and big on her face. She wasn't even close to model thin, but given the way her T-shirt and jeans were stuck to her skin, he could see that she wore her lush curves well. In the dark he couldn't judge the exact color of her hair, but it still looked like silk, perfectly smooth and straight where it lay over her breasts.
It wasn't until Chase heard her say, "My car is definitely hurt, though," that he realized he had completely lost the thread of what he'd come out here to do.
Knowing he'd been drinking her in like he was dying of thirst in the middle of a rainstorm, he worked to recover his balance. He could already see he'd been right about her car. It didn't take a mechanic like his brother, Zach, to see that her shitty hatchback was borderline totaled. Even if the front bumper wasn't half smashed to pieces by the white farm fence she'd slid into, her bald tires weren't going to get any traction on the mud. Not tonight, anyway.
If her car had been in a less precarious situation, he would have probably sent her to hang out warm and dry in her car while he took care of getting it unstuck. But one of her back tires was hanging precariously over the edge of a ditch.
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Get in my car. We can wait there for a tow truck." He was vaguely aware of his words coming out like an order, but the hail was starting to sting, damn it. Both of them needed to get out of the rain before they froze.
But the woman didn't move. Instead, she gave him a look that said he was a complete and utter nut-job.
"I'm not getting into your car."
Realizing just how frightening it must be for a lone woman to end up stuck and alone in the middle of a dark road, Chase took a step back from her. He had to speak loudly enough for her to hear him over the hail.
"I'm not going to attack you. I swear I won't do anything to hurt you."
She all but flinched at the word attack and Chase's radar started buzzing. He'd never been a magnet for troubled women, wasn't the kind of guy who thrived on fixing wounded birds. But living with two sisters for so many years meant he could always tell when something was up.
And something was definitely up with this woman beyond the fact that her car was half-stuck in a muddy ditch.
Wanting to make her feel safe, he held his hands up. "I swear on my father's grave. I'm not going to hurt you. It's okay to get into my car." When she didn't immediately say no again, he pressed his advantage with, "I just want to help you." And he did. More than it made sense to want to help a stranger. "Please," he said. "Let me help you."
She stared at him for a long moment, hail hammering between them, around them, onto them. Chase found himself holding his breath, waiting for her decision. It shouldn't matter to him what she decided.
But, for some strange reason, it did.
http://www.bellaandre.com/
PRINCESS CALLIE AND THE TOTALLY AMAZING TALKING TIARA
By Daisy Piper
Excerpt - Copyright 2011 Daisy Piper
All rights reserved
ONE
The Message
Callie Richards was an ordinary girl, at least as ordinary as a motherless girl could be.
She lived with her father in a big-sized house in a small-sized town. Callie loved her father, and she knew that he loved her. He took good care of her. He always hugged her and called her Sport, which always perplexed her as she was no good at sports, but she appreciated the sentiment. He tried very hard.
Callie knew that compared to a lot of other children-children who lived in far-away lands without televisions and cereal and beds-she was lucky. She had all those things and more, and she knew the children in those other lands who didn’t have those things would think Callie Richards was very lucky indeed.
But Callie was not lucky. In fact, Callie thought she was probably the unluckiest kid to have ever lived. Because even though she had a big television, her choice of a variety of delicious cereals, and a big, soft double bed, complete with a homemade quilt, Callie did not have the one thing in the world that most other children took for granted.
A mother.
Callie had had a mother once—of course she had. It was difficult to be born into the world without one. Callie’s mother had been the best mother in the whole entire world—the whole entire galaxy, even.
And her mom had always told the best bed-time stories when Callie was little-fantastic stories about her mom really being a princess from a magical land, where fire-breathing dragons flew through the air and unicorns pranced through the streets of the Royal City. In some of the stories, Callie was the magical princess-the white-blond streak in her red, wavy hair proved it. In some of her mom’s stories, Princess Callie had to fight an evil queen.
They had shared many special times together, laughing and giggling, wrapped up in a warm quilt, while Callie’s mom told the next instalment of the magical story.
But those days were gone now.
Since her mom had died two years ago, Callie had felt out of sorts inside, like a huge part of her was missing. And that kind of thing was hard to explain when you were eleven, going on twelve. Dr. Sam, her counselor, said that what Callie felt was completely normal.
Callie thought that if this was normal, she didn’t want to know what abnormal felt like.
So instead of focusing on the fact that she missed her mother terribly, and sometimes even pretended that her mother was still alive and had just been kidnapped, and would come home as soon as she could escape the evil clutches of whoever was holding her, Callie concentrated on being normal and ordinary, like the other kids at school who did have mothers, which at Maplehurst Middle School (it was a small school) was all of them. For the most part, it worked.
But Callie didn’t know that on her twelfth birthday the so-called ordinary life that she worked so hard at preserving would never, ever be ordinary again.
Today was her twelfth birthday.
She wanted to say that it had started off ordinarily enough, even for a birthday, but it hadn’t. She’d woken up in her bed with the strangest feeling that she hadn’t really been asleep. Then she remembered the dream about the necklace and the jeweled key; the huge stone gate guarding the city, and the gargoyles smiling down at her in the torchlight. The evil queen and her army were advancing, and an insurmountable task had been placed before Callie.
A mind-numbing fear gripped her heart and squeezed—she couldn’t breathe.
She sat up in bed, gasping. She tried to shake the awful feeling that still swirled sickly in her stomach, but it lingered like the aftermath of a bad meal.
Have you ever had a dream so real, you could feel
it still in the bed with you when you woke up? And you dashed out of bed and ran to your parents’ bedroom, jumping into their bed and trying to explain that it wasn’t just a dream. The fire-breathing dragon was real, and his rough, bony scales were real, and his big yellow eyes were real, and the stinky smoke coming out of his nostrils was real, and he was right now sitting on your bed, eating the rest of your crackers and refusing to leave?
Well, that was how Callie felt right now. She could still smell the sharpness of the damp forest air, still hear the labored breathing of the horses and the muffled sound of their hooves striking the ground, still hear the discordant clang of heavy swords as two huge armies clashed in battle, and she could still hear the terrible laugh of the queen echoing in the still morning air.
And the ravens, cawing and screeching and darkening the sky like a black cloud hurtling towards them.
The worst part of all was that in her dream, the evil queen looked exactly like her mother.
It was the same dream Callie had been having for weeks now, only this was the first time she’d seen the Raven Queen’s face. The shock of seeing her mother’s beautiful face, her mouth twisted into an evil grin, still made Callie feel weak and sick.
In the dream, Callie was a princess in a magical land. The Raven Queen and her army were trying to kill her. An important battle had been lost, and Callie had failed her countrymen. Soon she’d have to turn and fight the Raven Queen alone, but she didn’t know how she was going to do that all by herself. She wasn’t prepared! And yet, something deep inside her knew it wouldn’t make any difference. She was going to have to deal with it. She had no choice.
Just like the day she had lost her mom.
She’d have to tell Lewis about her dream today at school. Lewis was her best friend and always gave good advice. But she knew what he’d say, “Tell Dr. Sam. Dream interpretation is very important.” Lewis was only twelve, but he was the smartest kid in their school. He read books on things no other twelve-year old had even heard of like, The Physiology of Amoebae, Secrets of Unstable Gases, and A Short History of Rocks. Lewis wanted to be a scientist when he grew up, which was no shock as both of his parents were scientists.
Callie sighed. She didn’t want to have any more weird dreams like that one. She wanted to have normal dreams about normal things, like cute boys and shoe shopping and hair accessories. And moms being there when you woke up.
Pushing that thought away, Callie swung her feet to the floor, hopped out of bed, and went to wash up in the bathroom. Still in her pajamas, she headed downstairs for breakfast with her dad.
As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, a kazoo bleated slightly off-key, sounding like something between a sheep with a stuffed up nose and a goose whose voice was changing. Balloons and streamers in vibrant colors decorated the kitchen walls, the ceiling, the table, and even the chairs. A colorful banner read Happy Birthday, Callie!
Her dad, Ben, wore a silly-looking party hat. He blew on his kazoo again, and the paper tube attached to it rolled out and poked Callie in the eye.
“Oops! Sorry, Sport.” He put his arm around her and gave her a hug. “Happy Birthday, Calandria.”
Calandria was her full name. Actually, her full, full name was Calandria Arabella Philomena Teresita Anastasia Richards. The only living person who knew that besides her dad was Lewis, who had been sworn to secrecy on the matter. All those funny names had apparently been her mom’s idea. Anastasia was her mom’s name, but her friends had called her Ana.
Her dad winked at Callie, his blue eyes twinkling with pride. “My little girl is all grown up, and looking more and more like her mother every day.”
Callie smiled, though her heart knotted painfully. Even though two years had gone by since her mom had died, Callie still missed her each and every day. It made her heart ache, she missed her so much. Though she knew it was impossible, Callie wished more than anything, and that included all the money in the world, all the candy you could eat without it killing you, or a super-cute boyfriend, that she could have her mom back.
She didn’t tell her dad that. In fact, Callie didn’t talk much to her dad about her mom anymore. Because her dad had a new girlfriend, Sharon, who was about as different from her mom as a stick of celery was from a brick of gold.
Sharon was very pretty, had short blonde hair, and always wore stylish clothes and jewelry. She had her nails done at a salon. Callie’s mom had never even worn makeup, never did much to her straight dark hair, and her nails had always been broken from digging in the garden. Callie’s mom had worn faded jeans and gone barefoot most of the time. Sharon, on the other hand, looked like she had just stepped out of the pages of a glossy magazine. She was a lawyer. She had her own house, her own car, two walk-in closets, and an evil cat named Wallingford.
Callie tried very hard to like Sharon, but the fact remained that she just didn’t. Because when you’re a kid, you have an extra sense that lets you know immediately when an adult doesn’t like you. And Callie knew without a doubt that Sharon didn’t like her.
But for some unknown reason which Callie couldn’t understand, her dad really, really, really, really liked Sharon Hennessey. In fact, as far as Callie was concerned, the liking was reaching dangerously high levels.
But Callie knew her dad had been through a hard time, too. For whatever reason, Sharon made him happy. Callie thought there was no one on this earth who deserved to be happy more than her dad.
Looking at him now, marching around the kitchen with a silly hat on his head, blowing on a kazoo and singing “Happy Birthday,” made Callie giggle. She had an idea that maybe he was getting more enjoyment out of her birthday than she was.
“I have an extra special gift for you, Cal,” he said, looking very proud of himself. “Something you’ve never, ever gotten before. Something rare and beyond price.”
This peaked Callie’s interest. Perhaps it was the trip to France she’d been begging for?
Her dad whispered in her ear, “I’ll give it to you later tonight.”
“What is it?” Callie asked, knowing he wouldn’t tell her, but feeling compelled to ask.
“It’s a surprise, silly. But one that I’m excited about, too.”
Callie gasped. Maybe it was the trip to France! Because her dad would definitely be going on the trip, too-she was only twelve. She couldn’t go to France by herself. Of course, they’d probably have to bring Sharon with them. But even that thought couldn’t diminish Callie’s excitement.
“But first you have to go to school,” he said. “Now, eat your cereal, Sport. If you’re late, your principal, Mrs. Proctor, will be calling me again, and to tell you the truth, Cal, she scares me.” He poured Callie a bowl of alphabet cereal-her favorite-and gave it a splash of milk.
Callie took it and went to sit at the table, while their dog, Bo, a golden retriever, wagged his tail hopefully.
She laughed. “This is my breakfast. Go eat your own.”
Bo ignored her suggestion, probably because his food dish was empty. He continued, with only the determination a dog can show, to stare pointedly at Callie’s cereal with a wide doggy grin on his face.
Callie waited for the cereal to get soggy. As she did, thoughts about her strange dream swirled in her memory. Suddenly time seemed to stop. The kitchen drifted away in a fog and she was transported back to the palace in her dream, with all the sights and smells and sounds she remembered….
Callie was sitting on a dazzling throne. She wore a beautiful silver-white gown and a spectacular diamond tiara on her head. A magnificent court stretched out before her. The walls looked as if they were covered in gold. The floor gleamed like mother-of-pearl. People in richly-colored gowns and robes milled about, but they all seemed to be looking to her, waiting in anticipation for some kind of ceremony to begin. A mysterious voice spoke above the din:
When one is two and two are one,
King Eldric’s Magic has begun.
The Queen will call the Princess home,
All of a sudden, Callie felt dizzy, as if she’d been somewhere very high up and had come plummeting down quickly, like on a roller coaster.
“What a weird dream,” she said to herself, trying to focus her eyes and shake the tingly feeling that swirled in her stomach.
Bo barked, as if he knew something strange was happening, too.
Callie looked down. There was a message in her bowl. The letters of her alphabet cereal had arranged themselves into a sentence:
It wasn’t a dream
Callie gasped. She closed her eyes again, her heart hammering. She whispered, “Yes it was.”
She looked down again.
No, it wasn’t
It wasn’t a dream
Callie gasped louder. This time, her dad looked up from across the kitchen where he was buttering his toast at the counter. “Did you say something, honey?”
Callie grabbed her cereal bowl and gave a half-hearted laugh. “Me? Say something? Nope. Uh, Dad, I’m just going to go into the family room and watch a little TV before school, okay?”
“Sure Honey,” he said, beaming. “It’s your birthday. Knock yourself out.”
Callie scurried into the living room and placed the cereal bowl on the coffee table. She pointed a finger at it and said, “All right, who are you, and what are you doing in my cereal?”
I’m someone who has been watching over you since the day you were born
Callie trembled. Now her cereal was spelling words it didn’t even have letters for. Then a glimmer of hope ignited in Callie’s heart. “Mom?”
No
Though I was close to her
This was unbelievable, and yet Callie wanted, needed to know more. “Are you a ghost?”
I am very much alive
“If you’re alive, why can’t I see you?” Callie demanded.
You will see me soon
Little One
Callie stared down at the message in the bowl. Her mother had called her “Little One” as far back as she could remember. She gulped.
Taken by the Cowboy Page 25
