Saturday, August 4, 2012

Magic and Love's Ornery Kick

Abebi sighed as she looked out the door.  Jackson was nowhere to be seen.  Where had he gone?  She protectively cupped her stomach.  Was her aloofness too much?  Was he having second thoughts?  Fear mixed with bits of remorse bubbled in the acidic caldron of her belly.  Wiping a lone tear off her check, Abebi reentered her shop.  There would be time to hunt Jackson down after she closed up.  The twenty miles of Remoor Beaches housed too many pack members for Jackson’s whereabouts to remain unknown for long.

Abebi slammed the cash register drawer closed as she finished counting the last of the day’s receipts.  Another thirty minutes had passed and no one of the pack reported seeing a tall out of place cowboy wandering the town.  Wolf Scat!  The man couldn’t be hiding right under noses.   Or could he?  One call usually took care of notifying the pack watch command.  Had some link been missed?

Jackson sat on the bench closest to the street he came down until he found the beach.  He pulled his boots back on wishing he didn’t have too.  He noted the sandals most everyone wore.  He’d seen the shoe store up the street next to the department store with the window displaying the flowered shorts.  Shorts were bad enough.  Flowers too?  Oh hell no!  Sweat rolled down his back and wet another portion of his jeans waistband. Jackson fanned himself with his hat.  

 Back in Talbot’s Peak a man needed his hat when he rode the range.  Here there was no range.  Only miles of sand and water.  Ocean he heard two of the kids digging in the sand call that over-sized pond.  Okay, he knew the difference between an ocean and pond.  Problem was he couldn’t see the other side of this one like he could back home.  Except home didn’t feel right anymore.  Something called him here.  Said follow her.  So he’d wished and asked magickal help. 

 Boy magick had a kick worse than an ornery mule!  By some intercession he laid here in a place called Remoor Beaches.  Jackson dropped his hat on his head and shoved off the bench.  A beer and a burger called to him.  He recalled a bar two block up offering said lunch for a few bucks.  He’d worry about a place to stay later.  The help wanted sign he’d seen wasn’t encouraging.  Waiting tables and signing didn’t mix for him.  He howled better than he sang.  Crooning took talent he sorely lacked.

Half way up the street, he saw her.  Her determined stride caught his attention first.  The way her breasts swayed with each step almost mesmerized him.  Christ he had it bad.  He practically missed the woman jogging by him.  Her generous cleavage moved in rhythm to her pace.  A cough interrupted his sightseeing. 

“You must be new in town.”  A medium built male waved at him near the entrance to the bar.  “Come on in out of the heat.  I’ll buy you a cold beer.”  The male turned and held open the door.  Cool air filtered out and over Jackson’s face.

Jackson hesitated.  Why would a stranger be offering to buy him a beer?  “Why?” Jackson startled as the man motioned him closer.  “I’m the welcoming committee for Remoor’s Sea wolf Pack.  Name’s Remo and alpha’s my game.  Along with bar entrepreneur.”


Happy Weekend Gang!

Looks like Abebi is determined to find Jackson.  Jackson is  unsure what to think.  We may have a pair of unsure lovers on our hands.  I don't know what my muse has in store for them next.

Keep cool!  The spice homestead is settling down post morph into the quintet.  Maybe someday it'll all make sense until then, taking each day as it comes feels pretty good.  August is upon us.  Heat continues to slam most of the country.  Remember to hydrate and share a few good books with your spice and loves.  I am!



Savanna Kougar said...

Ah, the path of true love... usually a challenge. Sounds like Jackson needs to get some grounding, or beaching to clear his head.

Sea Wolf Pack, love it!

Pat C. said...

This is so cute: two uncertain, reluctant lovers dancing around each other. It's like a YA romcom. How old are they?

C'mon, Jackson, you're at the beach. Bermuda shorts and flipflops won't kill you. Not even with the cowboy hat.

Solara said...

Thanks Savanna and Pat! No young adult I am aware of. This is adult though keeping it semi!
A co-worker of two maybe reading this blog from time to time. Ah well we do write erotic romance. So if they blush they will not read more.