Brandon Wayne Hires a Mere Human

Tuesday yowls and howls, shapeshifter lovers. Okay, my flash scene didn’t quite end, and there’s more to ‘come’. Sometimes, a writer has to go with her muse, and hang on for the ride. Just like my heroine does.
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Brandon Wayne Hires a Mere Human

“Great. Just ducky keen.” I drop the hood of the car. I’d bought the sucker from a two-bit place when my own car had broken down about two hundred miles back.

“I’m out in the freaking middle of nowhere. The crappin’ smartphone doesn’t work.” I stare at the puddle of anti-freeze forming on the roadside.

“What now?” I demand of the universe, and throw up my hands. Seeing a small pile of brush, I move to it, and gather it up.

“What the hell now?” I loudly complain to fate. Bending over, I arrange the dried grass, leaves and twigs on top of the antifreeze. Despite my own end–of-the-rope upset, I don’t want some animal to lick it up, and die.

Angry and afraid, I stomp to the driver’s door. “It’s not like I’ve got big brother OnStar to save my you know what.”

For the tenth time, at least, I try Brandon Wayne’s number. Nope. I feel like strangling the stupidphone. Before I squeeze the life out of its little digital being, I toss it in my open bag.

What good was a job sent from heaven, if I couldn’t even get there? I’d promised to meet Mr. Wayne in Talbot’s Peak tomorrow. And, now, I had no way to even leave a message.

“Crap, crap, crap,” I mutter. Leaning inside, I grab my ancient road Atlas. Whirling around, I plunk my butt down on my car seat, then angle the map so the late afternoon sunlight filtering through forest trees hits the right spot.

“Okay...guesstimating, I’d say I’m about twenty-five miles away.” With hopelessness taking a big bite out of my middle, I toss the Atlas over my shoulder. “Oh sure, I can walk twenty-five miles before nightfall. Sure...yeah...no problem.”

Twisting to look over my shoulder, I gaze at my cushy running shoes, ready in case I do need to walk somewhere. “Gee, here’s a dilemma. Stay in the car with god knows who showing up to do god knows what. Or, get eaten by a bear in the dark of night because I’m dumb enough to try walking.”

I sigh and cross my arms, then attempt to think. “I guess if I survive the night I could walk to town in the morning.” I give the cell phone a dirty look. “Maybe you’ll even work --"

I’m interrupted by the roar of Harley. Yep, definitely coming my way. Torn between panic, curiosity, and hope, I sit paralyzed. I know I should get in the car and lock the doors. Then again, I need help.

“Okay, why take a chance?” I swing inside, and click the locks down. “Even if you are sixty and on the ugly side now...that doesn’t stop...” With the roar nearly deafening, I hunker down.

Tempted to peek out the window, I wait until the thunder-rolling machine passes. Still vibrating inside from the motorcycle’s power, I raise up cautiously. “Omygawd!” I whisper, and scrunch down.

He’s stopped on my side of the road. He’s wearing black leather, at least, his jacket. And, he’s taking off his helmet.

Really scared now, I grip the only protection I have. My hammer. With adrenaline pumping through me a mile a minute, I stay low. Crazy scenes of me fighting bad biker boy off with only my hammer flash through my head.

Yeah, like I really could. Unless, I went totally wild woman. But, somehow my swinging hammer only bounces off his muscles in my imagined defense against his attack. I put a death hold on the hammer, and wait. Do I look?

Knock, knock.

I freeze at the bold knuckles rapping on my driver’s side window. With my heart in my throat, I swivel my head, and look.

Good lord! I swallow with difficulty. I barely believe what I’m seeing framed by the window. I can’t see his face, or much of his torso. But, mygawd. His jeans are molded to his fine, fine hips...and...good lord! Is he hung.

I blink as he knocks again, lightly, as if he knows I’m scared out of my effing wits. Mesmerized by his tanned, masculine gorgeous hand, I slowly rise to a sitting position. Compelled, I gaze upward meeting his gaze.

Many things come to mind, but the man is definitely handsome in that rugged, square-jawed way. And young. He must only be about thirty. Of course, that didn’t stop my fingers from wanting to thread themselves through his honey-brown, longish hair.

Against my better judgement, I lower the window.

“Need a ride, miss?”

Miss?! That blows my mind. His deep sexy voice blows my gaskets. Hell, that makes me think of the damn useless car.

“I could be your mother,” I blurt out. “I do need a ride into Talbot’s Peak. If you could send a tow truck my way. My phone isn’t working...”

I halt on a sharp intake of breath. He’s unlocked the door, and is opening it. Like a modern version of a swashbuckler he steps back, and waits. What? Does he actually expect me to ride with him on that monster hog bike thing of his?

“It’s like a shiny razorback hog,” I utter. Okay, I’m bad about just saying anything at those times when I shouldn’t.

His sudden guffaw startles me. But, somehow, my hand has found my bag, and I’m pulling it toward me, as I turn to step outside.

”Stephanos,” he introduces himself, a smile playing on his too-sexy lips. “Razorback,” he savors. “From now on that will be my bike’s name. Your name?”

“Just call me Dawne.” Gawd, do I sound silly with that name now. In an effort to leave my past behind, and begin again, I’d decided on another name.

“Dawne.” He says my chosen name as if it’s beautiful, then holds out his hand. “I have another helmet. You’ll be safe with me.”

I grasp his hand. So strong, so big. The way I’m responding to him, I almost wonder if he’s cast a spell on me. I mean, other than his blatant virility. But, why would he? I should be nothing to him. Unless, he does truly have a compassionate heart.

“Do you know Brandon Wayne?” I ask for several reasons. If he is a bad guy, well, maybe he’ll think twice, since Mr. Wayne is a prominent rancher in the area.

“I’ve heard of him.” He gently pulls me closer, and shuts the car door. “He owns a large spread, and, they say, part of Talbot’s Peak.” Taking the car keys from my nerveless fingers, he locks the door.

“He’s hired me. I’m supposed to meet him...tomorrow.” I wish I hadn’t said ‘tomorrow’.

Cupping my elbow, he walks me toward Razorback. Is this really happening?

“You don’t look like a ranch hand,” he quips.

“No, but I can whisper to horses. As they call it.”

“You can whisper to me.”

His husky timbre penetrates my ear as if it belongs there. Weird. But, is he actually putting a move on me? I can’t believe it.

“Why? Are you a horse?” I toss back.

“No. I’m not an equine.”

Why that odd answer? I don’t have time to think about it. He unhooks a feminine looking helmet...yeah, he probably has lots of girlfriends, willing wanton women...whatever. With ease, he places it on my head, straps it tight, then gives me an appraising look. He takes my bag, and places it inside a saddlebag.

“Let’s mount up. Ready, Dawne?”

I sort of nod. Although, I’m quivering like jelly inside. It’s been ages since I’ve been on the back of a motorcycle. Not to mention ‘mount up’ is providing all sorts of naughty images, all in vivid, big-screen technicolor. Ohgawd.

“I think you’ll be safer in front.” With that he lifts me astride, and swings behind me, all in one fluid powerful motion.

He rumbles Razorback to life, and in no time we’re flying down the highway. Me, I’m cradled between his black-leather clad arms, and flush against his large, overwhelmingly muscled frame. The wind is in my face, and I feel exhilarated beyond belief. He smells like wind and sun and the great outdoors. He smells deliciously potent.

Maybe, this is a dream. His crotch doesn’t feel like a dream, though.

“Talbot’s Peak is around the bend,” he shouts, and slows to cruising speed. “Coffee?”

I shake my head ‘yes’ before I can think. What am I doing?
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Happy Sun in Gemini Shapeshifting

Savanna

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~