Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror, стр. 73

Jennie is living her own happily ever after in the mountains of Colorado with her husband, two sons, and two dogs whose antics often find a way into her books.

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Peckers

by Liv Morris

Chapter 1

“Damn, damn, damn,” I screamed while pounding the steering wheel of my old beater. I coasted the car to the side of the road after the engine went silent. “Not now. I’m only a couple miles away!”

Adding to my already frayed nerves, my confined cat, Tommie, howled in his carrier sitting next to me on the passenger seat. I think he’s ready to be freed from this car. God knows I am too.

I can now add a broken down car to the crazy mishaps I’ve been lucky enough to experience during the last month. The first one led me to the unemployment line. The magazine I worked for in New York City decided to go belly up and notify their employees by securing the glass front door with locks and chains.

No sign or note was left for all of us stunned workers as we rattled the doors. Not even a thank you for showing up today, but we’ve decided not to.

I bought a gallon of Ben and Jerry’s on the walk back home to my apartment, and mourned my job loss by watching Bravo for a week straight. It helped to see rich and spoiled housewives who were more miserable than jobless me. I’ve always wondered one thing about those crazy reality shows… Don’t they know every bitchy thing they say about their friends is being recorded?

The week following my overnight unemployment, my Aunt Marge died and left her entire estate to me. It was amazing and very generous but came with one big condition… I had to move back to my hometown of Marietta, Ohio, and live for one year in her house. Damn, I loved New York. And to make things worse, if I refused the estate would go to my derelict cousin, Lenny. His most recent mug shot with stringy blond hair and missing front teeth was posted next to the term “Meth Lab Owner” on Wikipedia. No lie!

Aunt Marge’s scheme worked, I had no job and there was no way in hell I could let my aunt’s hard earned money land in Lenny’s hands or on his meth boilerplate.

My aunt never married and was known around town as the “Spinster.” She taught creative writing at the local college and wrote romance novels under a secret pen name. She made her real fortune selling books written as Demi Duke, the bodice-ripping historical romance writer. It was only after her death that the hidden name leaked to her colleagues, and then the rest of the small town. I had no idea my aunt lived a double life until the estate lawyer’s contacted me.

After two hundred turns of the key in the car’s ignition, I gave up and flipped on the hazard lights. The sun had set a couple hours ago, but I didn’t feel any danger since the town of Marietta was sleepy, safe and as boring as a beige pantsuit. What a contrast from New York City. My cat seemed to agree as he begged to be freed.

“Come here, Tommie.” I flipped open the carrier’s wire door and inched my hands inside. I wanted to make sure Tommie had calmed down and didn’t show his claws. He bolted out of his confines and made a beeline for the back seat, by-passing my lame attempt to catch him.

After a howling meow, Tommie leaped on top of my head via my seat’s headrest. The entire tomfoolery took less than ten heartbeats. One might say fur was flying.

“For Pete’s sake, Tommie.” I tried to wrestle the cat off of my head without further scaring the animal. My once tightly pulled ponytail resembled a tangled mop of blond locks. I moved a few strands away from my eyes with a huff of breath.

“Meow.” Tommie repeated sounding more like a dying cow than a sweet little kitten.

I began rubbing between his ears. After a minute his whining turned to purring and I gingerly removed him from my head.

“Sorry boy,” I cooed while placing him back in his carrier, and hoped we both adjusted to our move.

Tap, tap, tap.

I turned to the left as someone tapped against the driver’s side window. One quick glance brought a shiny police badge into view.

“Great,” I complained under my breath before rolling down the window.

Maybe the officer can help me figure out what to do about my broken down car. I haven’t lived in the Marietta since I left for college and had no clue who to call for a tow. As a New Yorker that didn’t need to drive, my new set of wheels was a last minute purchase before moving. A friend of a friend gave me what I thought was a great deal. Now I’m not too sure.

As I lowered the tinted window, I had a better view of the man standing outside, though I couldn’t see his face because he was rather tall. But what I did see of him perfectly stretched the legs of his navy pants. My gaze traveled up to find narrow hips and what looked like a flat stomach beneath a shirt with official looking buttons. I licked my lips as I saw the beginnings of a square jawline.

“Ma’am,” the officer spoke, breaking through the silence and my imagination of what he was packing. He bent down toward me, but I had trouble seeing him fully through the wisps of hair covering my face. “Can I see your license and registration please?”

“My car has broken down. I hope that’s not against the law.” I replied sarcastically while turning to reach for my purse and getting a quick view of myself in the rear view mirror.

“No ma’am. Just a routine request for identification.” I swear the baritone sound of his voice caressed something that had been without male friction for months.

My hair was a mess and I resembled a deranged woman more than a pretty young twenty-five year old. Also, Tommie had decided to start protesting his imprisonment again. I giggled realizing I fit the definition of a crazy cat lady and wasn’t even thirty yet.

Fuck my life.

Rummaging through my purse I pulled out my wallet and handed over my license to the officer. “Hold on let me find my registration.”

Before I moved across the seat to get to the glove compartment, the officer stopped me. “Patricia Hopkins? Patty Cake, is that you?” he asked through a laugh. “It’s Thomas Brooks. Mel’s brother.”

Holy shit, I knew who it was the second I heard him say Patty Cakes. Just hearing him say it made me feel fourteen again, because he wasn’t just my best friend’s brother, but my life long crush and the hotter than hot guy I’d pined for.