Cabana Cowboy

Story 2 of the 30 day writing challenge!

Cabana Cowboy

            "Whoa, girl,” Weston soothed. He patted down Violet, the only female in his life. A damned horse.

            “Hey, Wes.” He looked up from his task finding brother, Charles, walking with a crippled gait. Poor guy got bucked off more stallions than he could count. Damn near killed him last time.

            “Yeah,” he grunted as he heaved the saddle over the fence post.

            “Did you fence in the steer?”

            “Sure did.”

            “And are the pigs fed?”

            He looked over Violet and lifted his eyebrows. “Yeah.”

            “And the chickens?”

            “Yeah, Charles. I did it all. Like I always do,” he said curtly. He removed his hat and wiped his forehead with a red bandana.

            He rocked on his heels with a tight lip. “You need a break.”

            He disappeared into the barn to finish bailing the hay from the loft. This wasn’t the right time for a brotherly lecture. “You know. I hear Jamaica is nice this time of year,” he called as Weston climbed the ladder to the loft.

            “It’s the same temperature here as it is there.”

            “I think you should check it out. Lay on the beach. Drink a…”

            “If you think it’s so fantastic, why don’t you go?” he barked. Walking to the edge he peered down at Charles.

            He shrugged stuffing his hands in his jean pockets. “Well, I would but Julia might find that strange.”

            Julia Murphy. The ever-adorable red head that stole his heart, stepped on it and left it out to pasture. He hadn’t heard that name for six months and it still did damage to him. He tossed a hay bail to the barn floor, nearly hitting his brother.    “Don’t take it out on me,” he said sidestepping.

            “Why are we having this conversation? She’s the one that left, remember?”

            “I thought you might want to know she’s getting hitched.” He smiled a yellowed grin from too many years of chewing tobacco.

            He blinked and narrowed his eyes. “Hitched?”

            “Yeah, you know. Hitched, married, hog tied to some…”

             “I know what you mean, Charles.” He sat on the edge of the loft suddenly losing his gusto. Who the hell was she marrying? Probably that schmuck from the city she was caught with. “Who cares?”

            “I do.”

            “Why?”

            “Because, brother. You love her. You haven’t stopped working your ass off for months trying to avoid the fact that you pushed her away.”

            “Me?” He stood and climbed down the ladder. “She’s the one that ran off with that city slicker.”

            Charles sucked his teeth looking at the hay bail. Something was up.

            He grabbed his shoulder. “Spill it.”

***

            Steel drums and the smell of the salt seawater was enough to make him vomit. He saddled up at the bar and ordered a beer and whiskey. Bikini clad women carried on across from him. He pulled his hat over his eyes and swigged his beer in silence. The sooner he could find Julia, the sooner he could get back to Texas. The bartender poured his shot.

            “What’s that?” He pointed to the glass. “I ordered whiskey.”

            “Nah, mon. No whiskey here, only true Jamaican rum. Make every-ting irie.”

            “I what?”

            He pushed the drink to him. “Drink.”

            He grunted washing back the liquid, cringing so hard it almost came up.

            “See irie.”

            He scowled chugging his chaser. “Do you know where I can find the Murphy wedding?”

            “Ah, Miss Murphy. Redhead, right? Nice…” He held his hands in front of his chest like he was holding two melons. He almost pummeled the Rastafarian across the bar.

            “Where are they?”

            “They down the beach, mon. Cabana party.” He pointed in their direction.

            To stubborn to remove his ostrich skin Tommy Lama’s he trudged through the sand. Why did people come here?

            He heard her laughter before he saw her. It was unmistakable. She hopped out from a cabana surrounded by friends. Her auburn hair piled atop her head with a flower tucked behind her ear. He caught his breath, now sweating profusely. She looked beautiful. She turned and made eye contact not missing the only cowboy standing in the middle of the beach. Her lips formed an “O”. He closed the gap between them.

            “It’s you,” she said.

            “Hey.” He was at a loss for words. He made it all this way and had no idea what to say. He wanted to kiss her cherry lips and take her away somewhere where no one would find them.  Make up for lost time.

            “What are you doing here?” She looked back over her sarong-covered shoulder.

            “Who are you looking for? Is he here?” his gaze narrowed.

            She propped a hand on her hip. “You’re still blaming him? God, Weston. I thought we went over this. James was just a friend. Is this what you came down here to do? Check up on me?”

            “Hey, ladies! The strippers here!” he looked up and saw a crowd of women storming toward him. “Wow, Julia. You went all out!  How did you find a Cowboy stripper all the way in Jamaica?” the pudgy curly haired woman asked touching his Stetson Western covered abs.

            “Um, he’s not a…”

            “Come on Cooowwwboooy...dance!” Several ladies surrounded him, rubbing up against him. He clenched his fists as Julia’s mouth curved in amusement.

            “I am not a strip…”

            “Show the bride your moves, stud!” The pudgy one pulled him into the cabana.

            “Marie?” His eyebrows shot up when he saw an almost identical red head lounging in a chair.

            “Weston?” Julia’s older and engaged sister stood. Her skimpy green bikini accenting her, well…what the Rastafarian meant. “A little out of your element don’t you think, cowboy?” She laughed looking at his wranglers and boots.

            He removed his hat, running a hand on his neck. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I thought...”

            She smiled knowingly and patted his shoulder on her way out of the cabana. “Go easy on her, Wes. Come on, Sharon. Let’s leave these two alone.”

            Sharon’s mouth dropped open as she turned to leave. “Oh…You’re not a…” He thinned his lips and shook his head. “Too bad,” she said as Marie pulled her away.

            He tossed his hat on the recliner when Julia said behind him, “So what are you doing here, really?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Wes. Please. I can’t do this again.” She sat on the edge of the lounger, digging her toes into the sand.

            He sat across from her and caged in her knees with his. “Julia, I…” Her face met his and her baby blue eyes pleaded with him. Her freckles more pronounced from being in the sun. Gorgeous. “What’s the deal with James?”

            He needed to hear it from her one more time. That James wasn’t in her life like he had been with Julia. Just thinking about another man getting their mitts on her flamed his jealousy sky-high.

             But Charles had been wrong. She wasn’t in Jamaica to marry him. This was for Marie’s wedding. Maybe they set him up. I’m gonna kill, Charles!

            “What is there to tell? He is just a friend. I told you that.”

            Is? “So your still friends with that guy?” He straightened.

            “Oh god, Wes. Seriously, you need to stop. We work together so of course we would still be friends.”

            “I don’t trust him,” he muttered.

            She stood over him as she sighed. “And you don’t trust me either.” A tear slipped from her cheek as she brushed his face with her hand. “And that’s why we’re not together, Wes.” She gazed for a minute, waiting for him to say something. His heart shattered knowing he still loved Julia and wanted to be with her, but until he could trust her fully…there wouldn’t be a relationship. He still didn’t understand why he struggled with trusting people. “Are you going to say anything?” She crossed her arms.

            He thinned his lips. “I…”

            “Hey, Julia!” a male voice interrupted. Wes looked up and found James holding two fruity concoctions with little umbrellas. He was wearing some ridiculous island beach shorts and no shirt. Rage seeped into his chest.

            “You came here with him?” Wes stood squeezing his fists at his sides.

            Her mouth dropped open, offended by his seething statement. “I needed a date to my sister’s wedding and you were conveniently unavailable.” She took the drink from James’ hand and exited the cabana. “Come on, James.”

            Her words cut like a knife in his side as he stood watching her walk out of his life again. But she was right. He was unavailable. To everyone, not just her.

The Lovers Convention

Short Story 1 of the December 30 Day Writing Challenge

The Lover’s Convention

            Slumping back in an orange plastic chair, I inhaled. Ah, the smell of motor oil in the morning. Blah.

            Tom opened the door from the mechanic’s garage, his dark brown hair disheveled like he ran his hands through it. He looked like a tousled frat boy. Gross.

            “So?” I asked.

            “Were stuck. The part won’t get here until tomorrow.”

            I sat up. “Tomorrow? What the hell? What is it?”

            “The timing belt.”

            “Haven’t you had that checked before?” I asked as if the entitled, everything-handed-to-him guy would even know to do that. He shook his head. “Now what? I have to be in Cleveland for that damn presentation.” Something I’d spent months working on. My one shot at a promotion for regional manager and he just ruined it.

            He plopped down next to me. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
            “Don’t you perform regular maintenance on your car? Jesus.” I stood pacing the small waiting area as a woman seated across from us set her magazine down to watch me implode. “You’re the most irresponsible human being I know.”

            “Chill out, Lola. It’ll be ok. Let’s get a cab to that hotel we passed a few miles back. We’ll be on the road tomorrow afternoon and in time for your meeting.”

            Screw this. I’d find my own way. Shuffling through my purse my wallet appeared to be missing. “Shit.”

            “What?”

            “Nothing.”

            “No wallet?” I frowned. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other.” He grinned.

***

            The cool air hit me as we entered the hotel. The sweat wicking off my brow provided some relief to the brewing heat inside me. The lobby swarmed with couples rolling neatly packed suitcases across the marble floor.

            “Two rooms, please,” Tom said grabbing his wallet from his pocket.

            “Do you have a reservation?” the attendant asked as her acrylic nails tapped on the keyboard.

            “No.”

            “We have one room available. King size bed, non-smoking.”

            I pushed him to the side. “I’m sorry.” I squinted at her gold plated nametag. “Michelle. But we’ll need two rooms.”        

            “It’s our annual lovers convention. We’re fully booked except for this one room.”

            “What the hell is that?” My fists curled on the marble top. A freaking lovers convention? Great. As if the car wasn’t enough. Now we were sharing a room.

            He smirked handing her his credit card. “We’ll take it.”

***

            “Claimed!” Tossing my overnight bag on the bed I fell into the plush white comforter, my head pounding.

            Tom disappeared into the bathroom. “We can share.”

            Shooting up I said, “Excuse me?  You get the floor.”

            He returned zipping the fly of his tan dress pants. Geez, did he have any manners? “You’ll change your mind later.” Smoothing his hair in the mirror he checked his teeth. Swiping a keycard from the dresser his brown eyes traveled from my feet to my…what? Breasts? “Ready?”

            I crossed my arms over my chest. “For what?”

            “I’m starving and if I have to listen to you drone on about this arrangement, I need a drink.”

            “Fine. But you’re paying.”

***

            We stood at a long table lined with plastic tags set in front of the main banquet room. Apparently this hotel didn’t believe in having a restaurant so we had to resort to their “lovers” reception.

            “Name?” A pretty blonde asked batting her fake eyelashes.

            “We’re not stay…”

            “Harriet and Jim Flankerman,” Tom interrupted. “Here.” He pinned one to my suit jacket.

            “Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Flankerman. And congratulations on your ten year anniversary,” she said excitedly. “Make sure you get your raffle tickets inside. You get one for every year of bliss.”

            I looked at the nametag and a silver heart sticker sheened from the light above. “Trust me, there is no bliss.”

            “Awe, honey, don’t be so shy.” His arm snaked my hip pulling me closer. “She’s being modest.” He lifted his hand to his mouth and whispered to her, “Best. Sex. Ever.”

            The blonde giggled as he whisked me through the main doors.

            “Get off!” I shook from his hold.

            “Careful, Harriet.”

            “It’s not funny, Tom.” He walked to the bar as if he didn’t hear me. “Seriously, don’t touch me again.”

            He ordered two drinks. “The name’s Jim, sweetie. Unless you want to role play again.” He winked at a couple leaving the bar as they overheard our conversation. The woman gave a shy smile as she walked away.

            “Stop, please.”

            “Oh, lighten up. I don’t want to be here either. But there’s nothing we can do about it. So drink and enjoy the evening.” He handed me a glass.

            “We could just get a rental car and drive the rest of the way,” I mumbled.

            He shook his head. “Nope. You need to loose the stick up your ass you’ve had up there since we met.”

            My mouth dropped open as I followed him. “I don’t have a stick.”

            Sitting he said, “Sure you do. What’s your deal, anyway?”

            “My deal is that you’re a chauvinistic frat boy that got a golden ticket to life.”

            He sipped his scotch and leaned back in the chair. “Wow. You’re a piece of work.”

            “You have no clue about me.”

            “That’s right. I don’t. I’ve been trying to figure you out for months. And all I see is…”

            “What?” I spat. What did he see? And why did I suddenly care what he thought?

             “I see a girl carrying the weight of world on her shoulders. Trying to prove something to everyone. When all she needs to be is herself.”

            I blinked. How did he…? What did he…? I smacked my lips together staring into the liquid of my martini glass as if it held all the answers. His hand touched my cheek, moving it to face him. A shock of warmth flooded my insides.

            “Lola.” His lips thinned. “You don’t have to prove anything. You’re good at your job but you would be great if you loosened up a bit.”

             I jerked away. “What do you know?”

            “I know this promotion is important to you. And I also know the big wigs are looking for someone that can unite a team. Be an influencer. Someone that isn’t a drill sergeant.”

            I scoffed.  “I’m an influencer. Tough love motivates.”

            He tilted his head and sighed. “Tough love chases people away.” His words hit like a brick in my chest as the silence fell between us. The chatter in the room was the only sound. “Lola, you have to know, you’re worth more than you give yourself credit for. Let your guard down. Just a little.” I looked at him, his brown eyes kind and sweet. “For me?” His boyish smile could light up a room. He wanted to help me. Why? I had no idea.

            “But what if I do?” I furrowed my brow.

            “And what if you don’t?” His words packed a punch as I thought about that.

            “…As a firefighter Jim was first on the scene and pulled Harriet from the fire. They’ve been together ever since. Let’s welcome our first milestone couple to the stage. Jim and Harriet Flankerman?”

            I shot my head up from my daze. Oh, no.

            Tom smiled. “That’s us.” He snatched my hand dragging me to the front of the room before I knew what was happening. “Come on, Harriet.” Taking the microphone he said, “Thank you. Hello everyone. Wow. What an intro. I mean what can I say?”

            “Tom, stop…” Embarrassed and angered I stared at the floor.

            “Look at her ladies and gentleman. My beautiful wife.” I looked up. Beautiful? His gaze passed through me sending shivers down my spine. “When I pulled Harriet from the fire that day she was speechless. I know, I know. Getting saved by a fireman does that to women. Then I quickly realized it was from smoke inhalation.” The crowd laughed, as I wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and die.

            He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear cupping my cheek. “My Harriet is proud and stubborn, something I find incredibly sexy.”

            My skin turned hot as he took my hand again. This wasn’t about the Flankerman’s. It was about us. His eyes sparkled with sincerity.

            “And I’m the irresponsible wise ass she keeps in line.” He chuckled and stepped closer. “She’s the one that saved me that day not the other way around. I hope she’ll let me steal her heart all over again.” He dropped the mic to his side. “What do you say, Lola?”

            A tear slipped down my cheek. “Tom, I…”

            He slowly leaned forward until his lips met mine. The room spun as I tossed my hands around his neck. Kissing him back the room sounded with applause. “Yeah, Jim!” someone yelled.

            My face heated as I slid it into his chest. He whispered, “I take that as a yes?”

            I nodded. “Only if I can keep my stick.”

            He laughed. “Who’s the wise ass now?”

December is an amazing time of year.  Christmas and the holidays and snow (if you are lucky!). Santa and snowmen...the list goes on.

The last month of the year has become an even more exciting time for me...

A friend once told me, "Do one thing everyday that scares you." It takes you out of your comfort zone and helps you realize your true potential and heck...it ends up the "scary thing" wasn't as frightening as you thought. :)

My SCARY thing will be to do a 30 Day Writing Challenge in the month of December. Well, really 31... The challenge will revolve around romance short stories that I hope you will enjoy.

• Will these stories be literary masterpieces? Hell no!
• Will they have editing mistakes? Probably!
• Why do it?  To strengthen the creative muscle brain! And who knows...perhaps I will come up with a future novella or series from the characters yet to be seen!

It will start December 1 and run till the new year. I have found 2 great resources to help me gain traction and ideas. Bryn Donovan has a Master List of Romance Conflicts and Mindy Klasky has a great list of traditional Romance Tropes I will be using to aid in this challenge. Lastly, I will set some ground rules to help me stay motivated and challenged along the way.

Ground Rules

1. Each morning I will do a live feed on my Facebook page (another layer of scary...) and randomly select a trope and a romance conflict.  This will allow the story to marinate in my brain over the course of the day.

2. Planning and plotting. I find I am traditionally a pantser writer but in this case planning and plotting will become necessary to get the story written.

• A pantser is someone who, “flies by the seat of their pants,” meaning they don't plan out anything, or plan very little.

3. Max 2 hours of writing time!

4. Editing to 1,500 words. (Yikes - Not a lot to work with but it will hone the craft on creating a defined character arc and story conflict/resolution. No one likes a rambling short story.)


Join me in the month of December for some crazy, wacky, humorous love stories. Visit my Facebook page for morning live feeds and please comment any suggestions!  I would love to incorporate YOUR ideas into these little ditties. <3

Much Love,
NFG