A Lost Soul From Jupiter: Science Fiction (Action & Adventure Literature & Fiction Special Bonus Story) (Suspense Colonization Paranormal BBW Paranormal)

by Daniel Runner

  "Oh, honey." Grace batted her eyes comically. "Couldn't you just imagine his five o'clock shadow abrading the tender parts of your anatomy?"

  "Now I know you need a reality check. Getting your tender parts scraped by beard stubble is not appealing." Not that Susannah knew from experience. Her few romantic adventures had been, well, less than adventurous. She was tempted to say sex was even more overrated than romance, but she imagined she'd only get another lecture from Alton County's version of a sex therapist. Instead, she asked, "Now what would Hank say if he heard you?"

  "Oh, pish. Who cares what he'd say? Just because I've been married since the pioneers came over in covered wagons doesn't mean I don't appreciate a good-looking hunk like Hogan."

  "Then you think it's all right for Hank to appreciate a good-looking woman too?" Susannah teased, thinking of Grace's equally round husband, the town's only dentist.

  "Honey, as long as that woman is me, it's perfectly all right. And, let me tell you. He does appreciate me. Every pound and every curve."

  Susannah blushed. She'd walked in on Grace and Hank Collier one day when she'd returned early from lunch. Hank's exploration of his wife's mouth hadn't been a search for cavities. And she didn't even want to recall where the dentist's hands had been located. To see her best friend's parents carrying on like that had given her pause.

  "Take it from me, honey. You gotta let a man chase you until you decide to catch him. Then you grab him and hold on tight."

  "I don't want any man chasing me, and I certainly don't want him getting a choke hold on me. I'm like Mom. I'm perfectly happy going through life alone."

  "Puh-lease. You know even less about Rory than about yourself."

  "What are you saying? Mom doesn't want a man in her life."

  When Grace made a rude sound in reply, Susannah protested, "She's content in her own little world. She really is."

  "There's a difference in content and happy."

  Susannah frowned. "I meant happy. She's happy. I'm happy. We're both happy, damn it! Quit trying to confuse the issue. Mom doesn't need male companionship to make her feel complete or to be happy. And neither do I"

  Grace leveled a look that spoke volumes. Susannah didn't want to talk about that any more. "So you think it's okay for you to look and appreciate, but not okay for Hank? Isn't that a double standard?"

  "Okay. I'll let you change the subject. For now. And, yep, I do believe in the double standard when it favors women. We need every advantage we can get in the battle of the sexes."

  "Battle of the sexes? That's kind of archaic, isn't it?"

  "Trust me, hon. Ain't no new millennium going to change the battle of the sexes."

  Susannah collected the pages from the printer. Anticipation filled her as she stuffed them into a manila envelope. "Let me tell you something, Grace." She waved the envelope. "This is a preemptive strike against the enemy which I predict will bring a swift end to this war between the sexes."

  "War? I said battle, not war."

  "As far as I'm concerned, this is war. And it's a war I'm going to win."

  "There you go. Turning into a stick and throwing yourself in the mud. You're getting more like your cousin Judy Anne Palmer with every day that passes."

  "I'm not like that professional virgin."

  "Professional virgin? That's a terrible thing to say. And don't try to change the subject this time. You don't know anything about men. A battle of the sexes is fun and games, not war."

  "This little muddy stick disagrees with you. This is war. I'm not about to let Hogan get the best of me. Besides, winning is lots of fun. It's one of my favorite things."

  She walked to the door separating her uncle's inner sanctum from the rest of the office. Hogan was still closeted with her uncle, but it wasn't as if he actually had business in there. He showed up at the same time every Wednesday morning since that first Wednesday when he'd happened to be here when Uncle Barney had brought in a container of cinnamon rolls.

  Homemade cinnamon rolls, warm from the oven, and dripping with icing. Aunt Opal baked three dozen of the luscious creations every Wednesday morning for her book discussion group. She couldn't even blame Hogan. Legend had it that Uncle Barney had proposed within minutes of her serving him one of the sweet rolls, hot from the oven, with a big pat of butter melting on top.

  If Walter Bofco, the Murphy's Cove Mayor, was on his way over, she knew the men would end up playing three-handed gin the rest of the day and filling up on coffee and cinnamon rolls. It was amazing that Hogan didn't have love handles sprouting beneath that tight tank top.

  She rapped on her uncle's office door then entered without waiting. The office smelled like a coffee shop with the aromas of cinnamon and strong, rich coffee perfuming the air. Hogan stopped talking in mid-sentence. Both men looked at her. "Excuse me, Sheriff." She always made it a point to be proper when someone else was present.

  "What is it, Sugar?" Barney Drummond asked.

  Hogan snickered. Susannah signed in exasperation.

  "I meant Deputy Quinn." An apologetic grin creased a face baked as brown as quarry tile by six decades in the Texas sun. "Sorry, you can't teach an old dog new tricks, and this old dog has known you since you were in diapers. I'll just never get the hang of thinking of you as Deputy Quinn no matter how much you scold me."

  Susannah laughed. "Well, at least that's honest." Her uncle would never change. And that was okay. She adored the man just the way he was.

  Hogan stretched. "Looks like Susy Q finished my report."

  Her eyes followed his brawny, tanned arms. His shirt flapped open. He wasn't carrying, she noted. There was no room beneath the tight tank top for a shoulder holster. Her breath caught as she watched the white ribbed tank expand with the muscles in his chest. Curly dark hair peeked above the deep neckline.

  "Finished?" His grin told her he'd caught her looking at his assets.

  She ignored any possible double meaning and silently handed him the envelope.

  I don't want him. I don't.

  Susannah kept up the silent chant even as her pulse beat hard and heavy in a place she didn't even want to think about with him just inches away. It was impossible not to glance again. She'd felt the crinkle of his curling chest hair against her skin when he'd held her. She wet her lips. Her fingers tingled. She wasn't attracted. She was just practicing her observation skills.

  "Thanks, Suze."

  Susannah hated the assortment of nicknames he called her, but she beamed at him. "You are more than welcome." Anticipation hummed inside her. She knew she must look like a cat that had dined on canary. She walked away. Her hand was on the doorknob when Hogan stopped her.

  "Just a minute, Susy Q."

  Susy Q again. She scowled and turned. "Yes?"

  He shook the pages. "You made quite a few typos in this."

  She smiled for real this time and opened her eyes wide in pretended innocence. "Really? Now that you mention it, I'm not really surprised."

  "You're not?" Hogan sounded puzzled by her frankness.

  "No. After all, I majored in Criminal Justice. Not typing. Maybe you should get someone more skilled than I to type your reports next time."

  "Ah. I think I get the picture." His grin reappeared.

  Irritated that he looked so cheerful, she snapped, "Good. I'm glad you do. Finally."

  Again, when she started to open the door, he stopped her. "Just another minute, Susy Q."

  She gritted her teeth. What kind of creative solution was needed to make him stop calling her that? She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. "What?"

  "I'm puzzled."

  "I just bet you are," she muttered.

  "This report is full of mistakes. Yet, the first ones you typed were perfect. Not a single error. Tell me, Susy Q. How do you explain that?"

  He was just sitting there, a quiet man with a lot on his mind. It was clear that there was a lot going on in his head and that nothing was to disturb him. The rest of the patrons in
the café didn’t seem to pay attention. He was in there pretty much every day with his laptop in front of him. He easily connected into the wireless internet and began to type away, hemming and hawing over the tiny details that didn’t seem to come easily. The world seemed to dissolve around him as he began to work, a heavy load of stuff on his mind. He had things to do, and he knew it.

  “ The End”