Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VII: The Steadfast Hot SoldierWild Thing

by Rhonda Nelson; Tawny Weber

  But it was more than that, Veda realized now. They were in love. Truly, deeply, irrevocably in love…and that’s what her mother wanted for her. Though she’d heard their story many, many times—the way her mother had practically driven away Dad’s fiancée and somehow made her father wait for her to get out of high school—she’d only just now realized what that had really meant. Her dad was six years older than her mother and, according to her mom, she’d known from the time she was a little girl that they were made for each other.

  Her mother had known that her dad should be hers the same way Veda had known that she’d loved Bear.

  It was real for you, she’d said. And she knew, because she’d been through it herself. So why had she been so desperate to show her why Bear was wrong for her? Veda wondered. Why had she—

  Ah.

  Because, unlike her father, Bear had no intention of staying in Hydrangea. He was only here temporarily and her mother knew their relationship would either end with Veda’s heart breaking or with her following Bear.

  She just got you back, Bear had said.

  And she’d just gotten him back. She didn’t want him to leave, Veda thought, feeling emotion push into her throat again. She wanted him to stay with her. She wanted to wake up with him in the morning, his big body against hers, and go to sleep with him at night in the same manner. She wanted to see him across the breakfast table and lie in his lap while they watched movies. She wanted to take long walks while holding hands and talk about things that mattered and things that didn’t. She wanted to fight and make up, to celebrate milestones, holidays and every mundane thing in between.

  She just wanted him.

  And she might as well want the moon, Veda thought, for all the good it was going to do her.

  “And this year’s winner of the dessert category and all around Grease Master is…Emmaline Hayes!” he shouted.

  Veda jumped and whooped for her mom, who hurried toward the stage.

  “Emmaline’s entry this year was nothing short of mouthwatering. I had three of her orange zest fritters and thought I had died and gone to heaven.” He handed her mother the trophy. “Tell us, Emmaline, what was your secret?”

  Her mother grinned. “Now, Mayor, if I told you that, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore, would it?”

  The remark elicited a laugh from the crowd.

  Ms. Ella strolled up next to them and huffed a breath. “Honestly, boy, I slipped you the chocolate stars and the condoms and you still couldn’t find out for me what Emmaline was entering?”

  Bear grinned. “Ella, I—”

  “Oh, don’t look so alarmed,” she told him. “But if I’m the last to hear about your wedding, I’m cutting you off.” And with that remark, she disappeared into the crowd.

  Seemingly dumbstruck, Bear looked down at Veda. “Wedding,” he repeated. He glanced around the assembled crowd, his gaze thoughtful, wondering, hopeful. Then he took a deep breath and found her gaze once more. “You know I have to leave tomorrow,” he said. “But I don’t want to. I want to stay here with you and build a life. A family. I want to have what your parents have. Honestly, I don’t know how to do that—I was never equipped with the right example—but you had it. You can show me.” He laughed, adorably terrified, but certain all the same. “I’m not sure how I’ll earn a living, but I’ve got enough money put aside to take a little time to figure that out. I just know that I don’t want to leave without making you mine, without knowing that you’ll wait for me. That you’re here for me.”

  Veda’s eyes stung with emotion and she swallowed. “Bear, of course I’ll wait—”

  He took both of her hands in his and gave a gentle, meaningful squeeze as his gaze searched hers. “Marry me, Veda. Right here, right now. Reverend Morris is here, your parents are here, the whole damned town is here. There’s plenty of food and a band, and we’ll honeymoon tonight in your pink room while Odette complains about her corns and cracks Jeff Foxworthy jokes.”

  Veda chuckled, her pulse pounding so hard in her ears she could barely hear herself think. “Are you serious?” she said, casting a look around to see if anyone had overheard him. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “No,” he said. “I’ve lost something much more significant than that—my heart. It’s yours. I might not have loved you as long as you’ve loved me, but make no mistake, I do love you. Marry me,” he said again, his eyes twinkling. “Come on, Veda. You know you wanna,” he cajoled. “We’ll make Fried Festival history.”

  They would…and then they’d make their own history.

  She nodded, thrilled and more than a little concerned about her sanity, then leaped up and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Ella,” he called, moving swiftly through the crowd. “You’re going to hear it first… .”

  In short order Reverend Morris was rounded up, the band played the intro to the “Wedding March” and both Veda’s father and mother gave her away. When the “I do’s” were finished and the fritters and first dance were concluded, Bear picked up his bride and made for the loft to the sound of laughter, catcalls and applause. Harris, breathing heavily, hurried forward until he caught up with them.

  “Here,” he said, handing Bear a new paintbrush. “I thought you might need a new one.”

  Veda felt herself turn six shades of red. She and Bear shared a look and then broke into laughter.

  For the record, they didn’t need the paintbrush, but the whole town speculated about what they were doing with it for years to come. Particularly Tina and Mandy.

  * * *

  EMMALINE HAYES WATCHED HER NEW son-in-law carry her daughter across the square and felt her eyes mist with tears. “You see, Redmond,” she said. “All’s well that ends well. I knew things would turn out fine between them. I knew from the moment I watched them together that Bear was going to see the light.”

  Her husband shot her an indulgent smile. “Of course you did, dear.”

  See? This was what she loved about him. He knew when to lie to her.

  “I don’t know what you were so worried about,” she continued lightly. “Aren’t you glad we didn’t interfere?”

  He slung an arm over her shoulder and sighed. “Yes, I am.”

  “Having Ella slip them the condoms was a brilliant touch, don’t you think?”

  “I try not to think about that part of it, sweetheart. She is my daughter.”

  And now she was Bear’s wife…Veda Midwinter. The woman she’d always wanted to be.

  Mission accomplished, Emmaline thought. Now she could concentrate on getting that grandchild… .

  * * * * *

  TAWNY WEBER

  Wild Thing

  To Brenda, who always sees the inner beauty, whether it’s in a dog like Medusa or in one of my stories. Thanks for everything!

  And to Rhonda, I’m totally grateful for the inspiration and laughter. And, of course, for the awesome stories you write.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  1

  “JOLENE, I’M A P.I. Not a puppy-retrieval service.”

  For just one second, Percy Graham visualized changing careers. Enthusiastic dogs with wagging tails, happy pet owners eager to greet their furry companions. Sure, maybe he’d get the occasional ankle biter, but that was probably better than being shot at.

  He sighed. He was damn tired of being shot at. And cussed out. And failing.

  All of which were becoming an irritating constant in his life lately. Ever since The Failure.

  It was enough to give a guy a complex.

  “Besides,” he continued before his secretary could insist again that picking up a dog from the groomer’s was a job requiring a licensed i
nvestigator. “I’ve got a plane to catch. Vacation, remember?”

  “I know, sugar. You’ve got big decisions to make.”

  “Right,” Percy murmured. The partnership. Wasn’t taking on a partner the ultimate failure? It meant he couldn’t make it alone. Even if he liked the guy he was considering, admired his work, it still meant giving up control.

  “Just think about it. That’s what this break is for, right? You’re falling apart at the seams. I swear, you keep up this pace and you’re gonna ruin your health,” Jolene said, her two-pack-a-day voice coming through his car’s speaker in a loud rasp. “You’re going too fast. You need to spend some time in front of the TV instead of all those hours you work chasing jobs, and maybe visit your momma instead of doing paperwork in the office on the weekends. That’d do you more good than flitting off to Bermuda for a week.”

  It’d definitely get him a fast pass to an early grave. At least, the weekends with his mother would.

  “Jolene,” Percy interrupted before she got to the inevitable dissection of his love life. It was something that’d always amused him before. But now it was just depressing. “What’s the deal on the dog?”

  He could almost hear her grin through the dash of his prized ’67 Corvette. He couldn’t say no to her, and she knew it. She’d probably already deposited the fee.

  “It’s a last-minute job. I didn’t have the heart to say no. You handled a background check for this guy last year, did a few smaller jobs. With how bad things have been lately, I figured it’d be like good karma or something. You help him out by getting his dog then go catch your plane. When you get back, karma will have a bunch of new clients all lined up.”

  “I’m not sure that’s how karma works,” he muttered. Then again, what did he know? He wouldn’t have said bad luck could grab hold and turn a guy’s happy life upside down, yet it had. Ever since The Failure, he’d had nothing but, well, failures. It was like a chain reaction of suckiness.

  Failed cases. Failed communications. Failed dates. Hell, it was getting so he was scared to take a woman to bed. Who knew what else might fail?

  Yeah, he had to decide what to do about the partnership offer. Because while things were sucking right now, he did have a damn good rep in the business. Which was why he wanted—no, needed—this vacation. A change of scene, a chance to regroup, rethink and revive his libido, and he’d be good as new.

  While he sat lost in thought, Jolene continued her verbal restructuring of his habits and despairing over his ever finding the right woman. Percy let the lecture wash right over him, focusing instead on traffic and the knots of stress wrapped around his spine. For a man who’d had life handed to him on a shiny platter, things had lately taken a turn toward Suckville. And he could pinpoint the exact moment they’d turned—the morning the sexiest woman he’d ever tasted had walked out, leaving him sleeping in the bed they’d spent hours in together.

  It’d been his first. First time falling in love, first time getting dumped, first time feeling like a total failure. But like that stupid law-of-attraction stuff Jolene was always jabbering on about, one failure had drawn in another and another. And before long, he’d blown two cases in a row and his office had burned down.

  “I’m on vacation,” he interrupted when Jolene had reached the suggested-therapists portion of her lecture. “Give the case to Matthews. He wants this partnership. Let’s see how he handles a spur-of-the moment job.”

  “No can do. Mr. Day wanted the best and that’s you. You wouldn’t have me lie to a client, would you? Especially one who’s willing to pay this much money? It’ll be easy. I texted you the address of the groomer. All you have to do is go in there and stage a rescue.”

  Rescue a dog from the groomer’s? It smelled a little fishy to him.

  “What’s the real deal? Since when does a dog getting a haircut require a rescue mission?”

  “Mr. Day is in the middle of an ugly divorce. He was awarded custody of the dog but his soon-to-be ex-wife won’t hand it over. Today it’s the mutt’s thrice-weekly grooming appointment, so he wants you to go over there and get it for him.”

  “Custody. Of a dog?”

  “It’s a really special dog.”

  “And he wants me to steal it?”

  “It’s legal,” Jolene insisted. “He sent me the paperwork.”

  “This is what my career has come to?” he summed up, only a little bitter. All it took was one woman to dump him, and everything else went down the toilet.

  “You’d be crazy to turn away from an easy-paying job right now, Percy. I do your books. I know these things. Just rescue our client’s baby, drop it off here and I’ll take care of everything else,” Jolene commanded before he could argue more. Then, to make sure she got in the last word, she added just before she hung up, “And remember, don’t shoot anyone.”

  “I haven’t even fired my damn gun in three months,” Percy groused to himself. The way his luck had been running, he’d been afraid he’d shoot himself in the foot. Jolene was right, though. He couldn’t afford to turn away a quick and simple job.

  Still, who the hell fought over a dog? Kids, sure. Property, cars, money, those made sense. He could even get on board with duking it out over membership to the country club. But a dog?

  Must be one helluva cute mutt. He checked the address Jolene had sent to his phone. He was about three minutes away. He didn’t need to consult the GPS since he knew Berkeley like the back of his hand.

  Parking in a high-end neighborhood, he had to admit, he was impressed. He remembered Gregory Day. The guy was money. Big money, and an ass about it. The kind who made people come to him, not the other way around. Yet his wife dropped her fancy dog at a small, local groomer instead of some fancy dog salon? Why?

  Heaving a sigh, Percy rolled out of his painstakingly restored ’67 Corvette, pocketing his keys as his eyes swept from one side of the picket-fenced little house to the other.

  Flowers spilled in a waterfall of melting pinks, purples and reds over and around the pale blue patio in a welcoming wave. A statue of a prancing dog stood next to the white door, one of the many canine figurines scattered through the postcard-size yard. Fitting, he supposed, since the small sign on the gate proclaimed this to be “Fur”sace Grooming.

  “Fur”sace? Like Versace, the designer? Percy snickered. Cute.

  Still, as pretentious as it sounded, someone clearly loved what they did. And he was about to make their job a whole lot harder. He glanced at his smartphone, noting that Jolene had uploaded the legal documents that said, yes indeed, one Chinese Crested by the name of Medusa had been awarded to Gregory Day. It should be enough to get the groomer to hand the dog over.

  “One pup, coming up,” he muttered as he checked the door. Finding it unlocked, he stepped inside. The entry was small and bright, trimmed in purple-and-pink stripes. But the unnatural quiet made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Shouldn’t there be yipping mutts?

  Passing through a tiny kitchen, he glanced into a large room that looked like a puppy playground. Pillows and toys and a mini trampoline took up one side of the room. A big-screen TV and a treadmill filled the other half. But no people. And no dogs.

  Percy moved on.

  At the other end of the hall, the lower half of a door was shut. Through the open upper half he heard grumbles and rumbles. He moved closer, glancing carefully around the door frame.

  Metal crates filled with a rainbow of fluffy blankets ranged the walls. Pampered pooches, indeed. Their beds looked cozier than his own.

  And finally, he saw the dogs. There were at least a dozen of them, all curled up on their pillows. How’d the groomer get them all to sleep at the same time? That wasn’t natural, was it? His spine tingled, warning Percy that a dramatic scene was the least of his worries. His quick and easy canine rescue was definitely going to be a big ole pain in the ass.

  Percy reached beneath his light jacket to the small of his back and pulled out his gun. Sure, it was overkill, but he
couldn’t ignore the itchy feeling on the back of his neck.

  Holding the weapon low, he surreptitiously rounded the last corner. Grooming room? He noted the sinks and tables, the scent of flowery shampoo and something else. Something sexy that gnawed at his memory, turning up the heat on his libido, even though he didn’t know why.

  “What the…”

  A man in his line of work saw a lot of things. At thirty-two, he figured he was well past the age of being shocked.

  But… Holy shit.

  He didn’t know what was the bigger kick to the gut. Seeing Andrea Tanner, the very woman who’d had top billing for three months straight in his most prurient sexual fantasies despite crushing his heart beneath her unknowing stiletto heel.

  Or finding her, here, in an upscale canine beauty parlor. Tied to a chair. Her long, golden-brown curls were a mess and the green bandanna tied around her mouth made her hair mushroom around her in an angry halo. Brown eyes, so big and doelike with their lush fringe of lashes, widened in what looked like horror.

  Percy’s ego, once so strong and healthy, whimpered a little. Clearly, this little meeting was a surprise for both of them.

  Then he saw the angry red marks on her arms where she’d struggled against the ropes that tied her to the chair. Fury surged, almost knocking him on his ass. Sure, he might have entertained the idea of tying Andrea up himself. But in his dreams, he’d had her permission, they were naked and they took turns. But this? He could see she wasn’t hurt. Pissed, but not damaged. Still, whoever did this, he was kicking their ass.

  Cocking his head, he did a finger swirl to indicate the room. Was there anyone still here? Andrea shook her head, no. Still, Percy did a quick scan of the room. He looked under tables, inside cabinets. Assured that they were alone, he holstered his gun.

  Brow furrowed, he sauntered across the room. He shook his head at the slender figure staring at him through tear-drenched eyes. Even wet and filled with angry despair, her brown gaze was compelling. Lushly lashed, meltingly dark and hypnotically expressive.

  Her hair gleamed, damp strands clinging to her flushed face and long, slender neck before cascading over her bare shoulders. The fantasy of that silky hair teasing the hot, slick hardness of his naked body had kept him awake many a night. Long after he’d given up hope of the fantasy ever being a reality.