Gun Shy

by Ashley Bostock

  Gun Shy

  Girls with Guns, Volume 1

  Ashley Bostock

  Published by Ashley Bostock, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  GUN SHY

  First edition. January 14, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Ashley Bostock.

  Written by Ashley Bostock.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  A month or so later...

  About the Author

  For Dorothy: Until we meet again. I hope I make you proud!

  Chapter One

  Rumors on Main was a boutique salon located in downtown Windsor, Colorado. It had been around since the Eighties and was a well-established business for those looking for an upscale place to get their hair and nails done, as well as any spa necessities.

  The quaint salon was located inside of an old home. Many of the businesses that were established on or near, downtown Main Street were located inside of previous homes. Rumors was known for their fabulous haircuts, coloring techniques and amazing pedicures.

  Marilyn had been going to Rumors off and on for a few years now but she wasn’t the type of person to know exactly when she needed a haircut, nor did she keep track how long it had been since the last time she had had a cut. She just went when she felt like it and today – she felt like it like.

  She pulled her red Jeep behind the salon and parked in an unmarked parking spot, gathered up her purse and, since it was an open Jeep, stuck her iPod and her phone inside the glove box, locked it and jumped out.

  Her appointment was at noon and she was right on time. As she began walking toward the building, she heard another car pull up and immediately thought she better get in there first. With her luck she would have to wait and wait for another person once they got ahead of her. Then she realized her error – she already had an appointment, she wouldn’t have to wait behind anyone.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see if the driver was in fact heading into the salon or going someplace else and whoa, she thought. A six foot tall, tanned and handsome man was walking toward her. He hadn’t noticed her ogling him yet. She abruptly turned around and tried acting as calm as she could and walked along the tiny cement path that led her to the front of the building, all the while telling herself to chill out! He is only a gorgeous guy, which, somewhere in this world, are plentiful.

  But she knew, who was she kidding? She couldn’t even recall the last time she seen a man look that amazing. Okay, she conceded, so sunglasses were covering his, what she envisioned, were beautiful emerald eyes and he had a just off-the-shelf, clean white hat that was covering some amazing color of hair, no doubt. He wasn’t wearing anything fancy, tan cargo shorts and a grey t-shirt, but it made her hot nonetheless.

  It was his body that got her. He was extremely tall, sporting sun-kissed skin with muscles that could make a fireman jealous. How does a man even get those kinds of muscles on his forearms like that? She wondered. What kind of weights did he lift? In which direction? She was certain she had never seen muscles like that on anyone. And she went to the gym!

  Once she checked in and took a seat, the front door opened and in he walked. Naturally, every set of eyes went to the door to see who was coming in, and he got the biggest smile she had ever seen on a person across his face. No doubt from all the female attention he was receiving. Great, Marilyn thought, a guy who looks like that is probably some big time jerk – because that’s the cliché, right? He knows he’s hot and his head has exploded from the idea. She mentally rolled her eyes.

  Marilyn kept staring at him and boy, did he have some lady-loving dimples. As Marilyn studied (gawked at) him, she noticed they weren’t your run-of-the-mill surface dimples. These were the kind of dimples that went so deep, you could stick your finger in them and pull him towards you. Pull him to you and have your way with him, she thought. Stop acting so smitten, she nagged herself. She doesn’t even know this man from Adam and here she was fantasizing about having her way with him? Get a grip!

  With her gaze locked on a curling iron, willing herself not to look at him, she felt him sit down next to her on the suddenly way-too-small bench. His arm brushed against hers and she’d never before been electrocuted but was pretty sure she now knew what it felt like. She looked up at him, into the brightest, greenest eyes she’d ever seen.

  His face was beautiful, peppered with a few beauty marks, high cheekbones, a slender nose and, she couldn’t believe she was going to look, her eyes mentally cringed together, light pink lips that looked soft to the touch. They had a very small dip on the top, leaving it almost flat, almost unnoticeable - unless you were only a foot away, like she was now.

  At that thought, Marilyn’s eyes snapped up to Lover Boy’s eyes, thinking how much more embarrassed could she possibly become? He’s probably wondering what kind of person she could be - so rudely staring at a perfect stranger. As her eyes made their way to his, perfect was right. And as she looked into his twinkling eyes, they looked like they were smiling at her. Not in pity, no, but in amusement, as if he already knew her mind was undressing him.

  “Hi,” he whispered in a husky voice, making her nipples tighten. Even in a whisper, his voice sent a chill down her spine.

  Her throat closed up, she could hardly breathe, let alone speak. Being the suddenly nervous wreck that she was, all she could do was manage a weak nod of her head. Then the stranger smiled again. Please stop doing that. She was going to melt into a messy puddle of water right there on the salon floor.

  “You’re back already? It seems like you were just in here,” one of the stylists said to him.

  “What can I say? My hair grows fast,” he told the stylist.

  “Fast is good. It means you’re healthy,” she replied.

  Their gazes locked in the mirror that sat in front of them at one of the stylist’s stations and he took off his sunglasses, which sat on his white hat, then proceeded to take off his hat, all the while holding Marilyn’s gaze. She couldn’t look away. It was the number one sexiest look she had ever shared with a man. She knew she should look away. She knew her mother taught her better than that, not to stare at strangers, but she was pretty sure her mother would approve of this one exception.

  “Marilyn? You ready, Dear?” asked the lady who was scheduled to cut her hair. What was her name? She knew it. They had reminded her when she called to make her appointment. She had cut her hair numerous times before. Yes! Adeline Mondragon. That was it. After all, you should at least know the name of the person who’s going to make or break the way you look for the next six months, right?

  She barely found her voice, “Yes, Adeline, I’m ready.”

  Marilyn stood up on wobbly legs and followed the stylist to her booth. There, she sat down and they discussed the usual: Is she getting a trim or a whole new ‘do? Layered, not layered? Bangs or not? Marilyn had naturally curly hair that she absolutely loved, but as it grew longer, the curls became less wavy. She told all of this to Adeline, and they agreed
upon giving her a bunch of layers but not too short, so Marilyn could still wear her ever-faithful ponytail.

  Marilyn had always had long hair. At the most, it never went below the middle of her back or above her shoulders. She liked it that way. She had pretty brown hair that had its own natural highlights of a sun-kissed auburn color. With summer coming, layers would make it lighter and cooler. So layered it was, no bangs please and yes, when you are done, you may style it for the day.

  With Marilyn’s mind occupied about her hair wants, she almost forgot about Lover Boy for a few moments. Almost. When she scanned the house-turned-salon, she took into account the five booths. They must have added one since the last time she was there.

  There were two booths located up front, where she had sat next to that dazzling stranger and then three more booths in the second room. On her previous visits, she had learned the second room was where the old dining room was, as it came right off of the kitchen. As she scanned the room, Lover Boy was nowhere to be found.

  Oh no, Marilyn had a quick panic attack. Where did he go? She couldn’t imagine living her entire life without ever seeing him again. Suddenly, logic took over – she remembered he came in for a haircut and he hadn’t had one yet. Maybe he was just getting his hair washed. Yep. That had to be it. Oh, yep, that was it. Here he comes. She tried to take her eyes off him, to look away, but this man was like a magnet. Her eyes no longer did what her brain said. They had a mind of their own. If she thought he was gorgeous wearing that clean white baseball cap, what she thought now couldn’t even be put into words.

  He strolled into the stylists’ area, the room she was in, with an air of confidence that would make the president look ordinary. Maybe he’s in the military, she thought. His brownish-blond hair was wet from his washing and stuck out on top like a wet dog after a bath, but Marilyn was pretty sure she had never seen anything sexier, more male, than what this man was showing her right now. Confident and good-looking, who could resist?

  She could feel her palms getting clammy and she became well-aware of the unmistakable feeling low in her belly, traveling down between her thighs. She instinctively squeezed her legs together. Thank God for the salon cape that was covering her!

  What was she thinking? Get a grip, girl. She had to repeat that to herself over and over. It was time for her wash and she did her best to look into the other room as she passed his booth, which happened to be adjacent to hers. Adeline worked magic into washing and massaging Marilyn’s head. It felt like heaven being massaged into her scalp. She loved it when other people washed her hair. But as it were, being single, there was no other person in her life to wash it for her.

  Thinking about her single status made her think of her ex-boyfriend who was still sort of a friend. She and Tyler had been together three years. She had met him on her twenty-third birthday and the minute he saw her, he claimed, she was the one.

  He kept quoting cheesy pick up lines that made her laugh and eventually, she went out with him because she was impressed that, no matter how silly he was, he went after what he wanted. Their first date went well; she never felt like he really knocked her off her feet but the more they talked and the more they hung out, alone or with mutual friends, she realized that he did care about her. He was loyal and he was a steady rock she could lean on. Before she knew it three years went by. Boy how time flies.

  She had literally woke up one morning with the idea that they were through. There was never any pizzazz, passion, spontaneity, no attraction that stopped her from breathing, with Tyler. The sad truth was there never had been and that morning when she had woken up next to him, she finally understood that there never would be.

  She had fallen into a routine, a habit, which was not at all what she wanted. It definitely was not what her fantasies were about. No, to Marilyn, she longed for someone to knock her off her feet. She wanted that one person who could squeeze her heart without ever touching her, making her breathless.

  As it were, she was too nice to give Tyler the complete boot. They remained friends since their break-up. There were times he made her uncomfortable because it was clear he wasn’t over her. But she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t ever hurt her nor do anything she wouldn’t want him to do.

  Really, as she lay back in the stylist’s chair getting her hair washed, and thought about Tyler, he was like a pesky fly. Harmless and bothersome. No matter how much you tried to shoo him away, he always came back bugging you.

  With that being said, it was a little difficult to have any kind of boyfriend/sex life with him around. While she realized they were not meant to be, she didn’t want to rub it in his face and hurt him. He was a good person and boyfriend...okay a good boyfriend to someone who didn’t mind a pushover as well as someone who didn’t care if sex was almost nonexistent. In hindsight, maybe that was Marilyn’s problem with Tyler. Sex was a priority for Marilyn. She definitely wasn’t one of those women who thought sex should only happen on special occasions. She wanted it all the time. Having at least one orgasm a day was something she could settle with.

  Tyler didn’t share her opinion. The sex was almost nonexistent. Then when they did have sex, it was his way or no way. In all the time they were together, he had given her four orgasms. Four! And she knew that for a fact because they were so far and few in between that when she did have them, it was like the apocalypse.

  Lying in bed that morning she thought what woman can live like this? Definitely not her. Thank God she wasn’t shy about her sexuality, and alone, she’d given herself quite a few much-needed orgasms! She needed a man who could think of his partner first and himself second in that department.

  “All done. Let’s go give you some layers,” Adeline stated as she wrapped the towel turban around Marilyn’s head. She leaned close to Marilyn and whispered, “And check out the eye candy.”

  “Phew, thought it was just me,” Marilyn laughed and together they walked into the middle room to work on her hair.

  The rest of her appointment flew by pretty quickly. Adeline performed magic on her hair and gave her absolutely stunning layers. She didn’t have to worry about drooling over Lover Boy because, for the most part, he was engaged in typical salon conversation, like her.

  Every now and then their eyes collided into one another’s through the salon mirrors and she was always the one that had to look away because she swore he was reading into her soul. She couldn’t help but pray to God that someday, He would send her someone like Lover Boy where the mere presence of him made her hands sticky and her panties wet. Someone who, it the mere sight of them, made her heart skip beats like she’d ran a marathon – no touching involved. Of course, that was what every female wanted. A man that would give her everything she dreamt about – and more.

  Adeline was taking off Marilyn’s cape when Lover Boy was headed on his way out. He was paying at the front desk when she heard the stylist say, “Thank you, Blake. We’ll see you in another month or so.” Blake. You’ve got to be kidding me, Marilyn thought. Of course his name is Blake. What else would it be? It couldn’t be Gertie, or Simon or Bart because those names were just too plain for what this man was packing. Blake – she loved it.

  How could she have never seen him before? Windsor had a population of about 20,000, give or take some, and it’s not like she didn’t do stuff in town. She went to the festivals and the farmers’ markets and what-not. And now he was leaving and she was probably never going to see him again? Damn it. In a mere instant her heart took over her brain. In that moment, she couldn’t get out of there fast enough. She hurried and paid Adeline, leaving her a more-than-enough tip and followed him straight out the front door.

  What was she going to do? Follow him? Was she going to talk to him? What was she even going to say? Anything? Nothing? Take me to bed or lose me forever? Meg Ryan’s voice in Top Gun rang in her ears. How about take me home and do wild and crazy things to my body that I haven’t experienced in four years?

  She walked, practically ran, ba
ck to the parking lot and stopped short when she saw that he was standing in between her Jeep and his car. He was talking on the phone and hadn’t noticed her yet, so it gave her a chance to check out his finely sculpted backside. Even from this far away she could see the hard planes of muscle that made up his butt underneath his cargo shorts. Maybe he’s a model, Marilyn thought. A model or a soldier, it has to be one of them, she just knew.

  “Yeah, I will. Okay. See ya,” Blake shut the phone off and let out a sound of annoyance. Why did his new business partner always have to call him about small matters? He wished he would handle little things himself and then, when something bigger, more important, came up, he could call Blake and they could talk shop.

  “Rough day?” He glanced behind him and saw the hottie brunette headed towards him. Damn, she looked good, he thought. What was her name? He heard the stylist say it and now her beauty was clogging his brain.

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied, still a little irritated.

  Her eyebrows rose up into a well-excuse-me shape and her eyes actually looked a little sad, as if his remark hurt her. Fuck.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just that I have a new business partner and we’re still at the getting-to-know-each-other stage. Forgive me?” he pleaded with her hazel eyes.

  Forgive him? Sadly for her, she forgave him long before she even knew he needed to be forgiven.

  “Of course. Don’t apologize. Look, I couldn’t help but notice you in the salon and the entire time I sat there, I kept thinking that this might be the only time in my entire life that I might see you and I just have to tell you that you are the sexiest man I have ever laid eyes on.” Omigod! She couldn’t believe she was actually saying this out loud. It was like her mouth was no longer connected to her body and was speaking on its own free will. And to her horror, it wasn’t done. She continued, “I mean, I have never seen someone with amazing dimples like yours, deep dimples. Nor have I ever seen muscles like that in a man’s forearms. Where did you get them anyway? Even the muscles in your butt are amazing!” Her eyes closed momentarily.