I’ve been doing some brainstorming, hoping to find inspiration for a quick Christmas story to share with my faithful readers. It’s sort of become a thing. We’ll see where Iffy goes. In the meantime, it’s time for #1lineWed and the yummy theme of cookies, bread, or cake. This is a snippet that I’ve tucked back for Gunner, one of the Nightriders. I’d give details on the scene but frankly? I haven’t a clue. 🤣 Warning…this might be a sad one.
I heard the exhaust pipes rumbling and my heart beat to the rhythm. Ridiculous to get my hopes up. Gunner was not the type of man to walk through the door and say, “Honey, I’m home,” and kiss his little woman on the cheek while asking what’s for dinner. Tonight, it was my signature lasagna. I caught my reflection in the window over the sink. Swiping the sheen of sweat off my forehead, I squared my shoulders and marched to the front door before I lost my nerve.
Stepping out on the porch, I called out, “Gunner! Hi. I made lasagna. Would you like to join me for dinner?”
Then I realized he wasn’t alone. Nope. Not alone at all. The woman—girl—who slithered off the back of his bike was barely legal. She was all skinny legs and big chest. No bra and that girl definitely needed one. She gave me the fish eye.
“Who’s that, Gunner?” Chesty Girl whined, pressing up against him.
“Jeez, Gunner. She’s old.”
Mortified? Yes, yes I was. And I wanted to melt right through the warped boards of my front porch. I swallowed and backed up. What an idiot! Gunner was a biker. Rough. Tough. There was no way in the world he would ever be interested in someone like me. I was old, compared to that little twit out there. I was old and used up and the idea that Gunner would ever look twice made me a fool, on top of everything else.
“I…see you’re busy. I’m sorry I interrupted.” I turned and ran, slamming the door behind me. What a total and complete charlie foxtrot. Those two words slammed me to a halt. Charlie foxtrot, Army speak for a total cluster fuck. I glanced at the bookcase where Rob’s photo sat, right next to the folded flag that had draped his coffin.
Four years. He’d been gone four years. The date hit me hard. This explained my insanity—the urge to cook and bake. Good grief. Lasagna, home-made crusty bread, red velvet cake with buttercream icing. Going all out like this, on top of working eight hours was my subconscious reaction to the date. Four years ago, two men in uniform came to my door and my world imploded.
And I’d rationalized that I was ready to move on. Yeah, right. With an outlaw biker who thought robbing the cradle was a good idea. I sank onto the hardwood floors I still needed to sand. Tired. I was so freaking tired. For the first time in years, I’d been attracted to a man. A very bad man. Stupid to try to domesticate him. He was like a wild animal. A wolf.
I sat in the dark. And cried. All the tears I never shed four years ago.
Yes, I do have a few more scenes involving Gunner and Harper and yes, he will get a book eventually. These guys are really frustrating. They drop in for a quick drink and then take off. I did discover from another scene that this book takes place around Christmas so maybe it’ll be a 2021 Christmas release. We’ll see if Iffy and Gunner will stop with the zoomies long enough. What about y’all? Do you prefer cookuies, bread, or cake? And what kind? Writers, any yummy lines to share?