by ML Michaels
She almost cringed outright as the image of a handsome young rodeo rider filled the screen before her, riding atop his signature black stallion as he tipped his hat to an adoring crowd.
Then Luke McCade turned toward the camera and said, “Howdy Everyone. I’m Luke McCade, rodeo rider. Now you might not think that a macho man horseman such as myself would have much use for men’s cologne. The fact is, though, that I today am out to impress a very important lady. A lady who, coincidentally, I never would even have met if it hadn’t been for Lasso Cologne.” He paused here, adding as he leaned forward to smile directly into the camera, “Madison Stone, I just happen to be madly, passionately in love with you. And if it would make you feel better about me, about us, I agree to surrender fully my half of Uncle Joe’s fortune to my sister Charity and her fiancé.”
Madison froze in her seat and gaped outright. Oh my, she thought. In a matter of seconds, he’d been able to prove his love to her. If he was willing to give up his inheritance…
Before she finished her thought, she watched in a haze of suspended disbelief as the screen went black—and the man whose image had previously filled it came around a corner from a back room of Agatha’s office suite.
Although wearing his signature cowboy hat, Luke came dressed in a black silk suit and tie that didn’t exactly seem his style. Before she could react, he peeled off his hat and he went down on bended knee before his stunned, wide-eyed lady.
“I love you, Madison Stone,” he declared, adding as he reached inside his jacket pocket to produce a sparkling diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”
Madison thought a moment, then nodded.
“Yep Cowboy, I surely will marry you. You’ve really gone and done it Dude—now you can’t get rid of me. You’re stuck with me for good!” she assented, smiling as he slipped his dazzling offering over her finger. “And if you like, please feel free to keep every penny of your uncle’s inheritance. If, that is, you don’t have any problem with me keeping my job here at Barnes and Callas.”
“That stipulation is important to me as well,” Agatha piped up, all the while gracing the couple before her with a warm, abiding smile.
Luke nodded.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he agreed, adding with a robust chuckle, “Now this sure is some dag gum mussed up situation. A billionaire is afraid that he’ll be too blasted rich to attract the woman of his dreams?”
Madison guffawed outright.
“Everything about us is messed up, Cowboy,” she reminded him. “And that’s what makes this—what makes us—so blasted beautiful. Now get up off of your knee and kiss me Cowboy!”
The End
*****
Reluctant Patient: A Military Navy Seal Romance
By Bess Hart
Jamie
The nurse with the brown hair gave Jamie a bag containing the clothes that he had come in wearing on the way out, but he chucked them unceremoniously in the nearest available trashcan. He wasn't sure why they thought he might want to keep a bloodstained shirt and pair of scuffed up pants. He supposed the shirt could probably have been salvaged—if he stitched up the bullet hole piercing the shoulder.
The doctor had told him to rest a little more, but he was already feeling antsy to get on his bike and go for a ride. When Jamie told her that, he thought she was going to have a heart attack. She told him that he was in no condition to ride a bicycle, never mind a motorcycle, but he scoffed at her.
A little pain never hurt anyone.
Outside, the air was fresh and warm. Jamie had been cooped up in the stuffy and sterile air of his ward for far too long, and it felt nice to stretch his limbs. Dave was waiting for him outside, having earlier handed Jamie a clean set of clothes while telling him that he'd meet him when he came out. Hospitals creeped Dave out. Jamie didn't blame him.
Jamie hopped into Dave’s truck and they peeled out of the parking lot like a couple of lunatics. Jamie thought Dave was putting on a show for him, to try and keep his mind off of shitty things like bullet wounds and foreign deserts. That was fine with Jamie.
"How ya feeling?" Dave asked.
Jamie snorted, rolling down his window so he could taste the breeze. "As good as a guy can feel with a hole in 'im."
They laughed and Dave headed toward the nearest fast food place to get Jamie something that tasted better than cardboard. He wanted burritos. Lots of them. Damn hospitals had never heard of exotic fare.
After stuffing their faces at Taco Bell, Dave began to drive toward the base.
"What're they saying about us at home?" Jamie asked. By “us”, he didn't mean him and Dave.
"Couple a'goddamned heroes, that's what they're saying," Dave said, smacking him heartily in the shoulder. The wrong shoulder, but Jamie didn't flinch and he wasn't gonna tell him.
"What's the Captain think?"
Dave fished a mexi-fry out of the greasy brown bag and chewed it thoughtfully. "You best talk to him about that," he said. "He ain't tellin' me anything."
"No visitors," Jamie commented. "Doubt he'll be throwing me a homecoming party."
Dave chuckled, his bright teeth flashing in the light. "Unlikely. I reckon you've been punished enough though."
A hush fell in the cab of the truck. After a minute, Dave sucked in air through his teeth. “Dammit, man, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Jamie shook his head. “It’s fine.”
"When I hear—"
"It's fine, Dave," he cut in sharply. "I don't wanna talk about it."
The rest of the drive to the base was silent.
***
The Captain, Dave and Jamie’s nickname for the commanding officer of their squadron, was not happy that Jamie had checked himself out of the hospital early.
"Jamie, you need to rest more," he said when Jamie showed up in his office, subtly cradling his arm. The nurses had offered to make him up a sling, but he didn't need any of that. He’d heal just fine on his own.
"I've been resting for the last couple of weeks," Jamie protested. "I'm ready to get back to work."
The Captain sighed and rubbed his weathered face in his hands. "Jamie, you got shot." He used Jamie’s name a lot when he had bad news for him. Like when he showed up at his hospital bed when he first woke up a couple weeks ago.
"And I'm not going to get unshot hanging out in some room waiting to catch a superflu."
The Captain stood and walked over to Jamie, placing a hand on his shoulder. Thankfully, unlike Dave, he knew which one to avoid.
"You need to take some time off, Jamie. I think you need some time to process things."
Jamie couldn't stand the way the Captain was looking at him, with pity in his eyes. He bristled.
"What do you think I've been doing while stuck in a hospital bed for two goddamned weeks?" he seethed. "It sure as hell wasn't playing Tetris."
A pained expression crossed the Captain’s face. Jamie could tell he hated having this conversation, but he wasn't going to make it any easier on the Captain.
"That's not a request, soldier," he said. "It's an order."
Jamie’s training kicked in and he gritted his teeth. Defying the Captain as a person he could do, but as a superior? He would have to grin and bear it.
"What do you expect me to do?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Take some time and relax," the Captain said. "You've never taken any time off the whole time you've worked here." Then he broke eye contact.
He was easy to read. Jamie knew he wasn't going to like what came next.
"We've also decided that it's best if you see a therapist."
Jamie tried to reign in the explosion that was overtaking his mind. "A therapist?" he asked lowly. "You think there's something wrong with me now? Cause of what happened?"
The Captain walked back over to his desk and sat down. That meant their conversation was nearly over. He began to rifle through the mess of files on his desk.
"It's just procedure, Jamie," he explained. "You o
nly need to have a few sessions, and then get the psychiatrist to sign you off as fit for duty. Then you can get back in the field."
Jamie hated this. Not once in his career had there been a command that he didn't want to obey—until now.
"Fine," he spat. "But I'll find my own. You can keep your military shrink and their pre-stamped PTSD diagnosis."
The Captain shrugged. “Do whatever you have to do, Jamie.”
Clara
The live band was probably the worst Clara had ever heard. But then again, in a town as small as this, it was a wonder they managed to find a band to play at all.
She and Adrianne had gone out to the only bar in town to celebrate her big move; though, really, it was hardly much of a move. She was transplanting herself from one small town to a slightly bigger one. At least her new home had a job for her, and more than one grocery store.
For her, though, it was practically the big leagues.
"I'm going to miss you!" Adrianne whined over the music. "What am I going to do without you?"
Clara smiled. "It's not like I'm moving out of state or anything, Adi," she said. "I'll only be an hour drive away."
Adrianne huffed. "That's more than most people here have ever been."
They both laughed. It was true; the only people who ever seemed to care about getting out of Woodberry were the teens, called by the city lights and concerts that never even brushed past them at home. She and Adrianne had, on several occasions, gone to other cities for that exact purpose. Then Clara had gone to college, and Adrianne had gotten married and gone into the family farming business with her parents.
"Hey now," Clara said in mock seriousness. "I came back after my training."
Adrianne took a swig of her beer. "And now you're leaving again."
Clara shrugged. "Not much I can do. Nobody around here needs a psychiatrist, and I'm ready to actually do what I was trained for."
Clara's dad had fallen sick during her last year of in the last year of her medical residency, and she had moved home after graduation to help look after him. Now that he was on the mend, she felt cornered by the inevitability of working in the supermarket for the rest of her life. That was what would happen if she stayed.
So it was time to go.
The band members finished their set to a very dull round of applause.
"No more of this," Clara announced. "We came here to have fun, and we're going to have fun!" She gestured to the waitress, an old friend of theirs from high school.
"Tammy, will you do a shot with us?" Clara asked when the tattooed blonde came over.
Tammy laughed. "Can't tonight. But I'll get you a couple that'll be just what the doctor ordered,” she said with wink.
She disappeared back into the crowd, and Clara smiled. It was a long time since she last had “what the doctor ordered.”
She took a minute to scan the people in the bar. Woodberry's only bar was a strange contrast to the rest of the town. It was at a point in the highway leading south that was ideal to stop at for a drink or some food, so lots of bikers usually hung around. On any given night, there would be the usual smattering of locals, and a new selection of beefy tough guys for her to peruse.
She'd always liked them a little rough.
Tammy came back with the shots and the girls downed them enthusiastically, choking back the pain as the fire shot down into their stomachs. Fortunately, Tammy had also brought a couple of beers to cool the burn.
"Woo!" Adrianne exclaimed. "That was one helluva shot."
Clara grinned. "And tonight's going to be one helluva night," she replied. "Who knows when I'll get to see my best friend again? I am, after all, moving to the moon."
The two girls cackled and started in on the usual small town gossip they loved sharing on those occasions. Their lives had taken such different paths in recent years, but they always found something they could connect with.
Clara was mid sentence, telling Adrianne a story about the old pervert Herb who lived down the street from her parents, when her jaw dropped. A man walked in that she hadn't seen before. That wasn't what caught her eye—she expected to never see most of the people there again once they'd had their fill and moved on their way. What struck her about this man, in particular, was the fact that he was the hottest guy who had ever stepped into Woodberry.
Well, that might not have been completely true. She hadn't exactly conducted a census of the attractiveness of various visitors to the area, though she would have bet good money that he would top the list.
He was probably an average height, maybe six feet tall, but he commanded space in a way that she had never seen before. As soon as he walked in she felt like he owned every inch of ground he walked on. He was muscular, and she could see from the bits of skin peeking out from the top of his t-shirt and the sleeves of his leather jacket that he was absolutely covered in tattoos. His hair was dark and close-cropped, which made her think that he was likely in the military or something. There was a softness in his face though, which she was glad for. If he had been any more rugged, she might have thought he was cut completely from stone. But no, this guy was human.
And he was looking straight at her.
"Clara!" Adrianne hissed. "Close your mouth! You're getting drool all over the table."
Clara slammed her jaw shut and looked down. Part of her actually expected to see a little puddle of drool. Luckily, there wasn't any.
It took all her effort to drag her eyes back over to her friend, who was giving her a look that showed she was decidedly unimpressed.
"He looks like trouble," Adrianne said lowly.
"In the best way," Clara replied dreamily.
Adrianne reached over and smacked Clara's hand. "No!" she chided. "You just got through all that mess with the last one."
Clara sighed. "I know, I know," she said. "But I'm not going to make that mistake again."
It was sweet of Adrianne to be worried about her; Clara knew that. She just didn't like the way that, in the wake of her most recent relationship, everyone had made it their business to guide Clara away from future potential disasters. She had made a mistake—everyone did at some point.
But she was an adult. It wasn't their job to watch her every move and dictate what was the best choice for her in life. Still, Clara would play along with the game. "Fine," she said. "I'll refrain from having sex with the sexy biker guy." Then, with a smattering of melodrama, she added, "I'll just be abstinent for the rest of my life! A born again virgin."
Adrianne frowned and gave her a smack on the arm. "Don't be like that," she said. "You know what I mean."
Clara smirked and chugged back the rest of her beer. The buzz was hitting her full on, and she was enjoying every second of it. It had been a long time since she had gotten drunk, and it had been an even longer time since she and her best friend had gone out and had a wild night. And tonight would be a wild night, she decided.
Tammy came around when she saw that the girls had finished their beers. "Can I get you ladies another?" she asked.
Clara and Adrianne grinned enthusiastically.
"Keep 'em coming, Tams," Adrianne replied.
Jamie
Only an hour down the highway, yet a world away. That's what Jamie thought of Woodberry. Instead of being surrounded by other military guys and their wives, he was now immersed in a sea of bikers, with a few farmers mixed in for good measure.
Fine with him.
When he first walked on, his eyes immediately tracked to the other side of the room, as if they had been pulled there. Two girls were seated at a low round table, pints of beer and empty shot glasses on the table. One was wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, her hair thrown back in a messy ponytail. The other one looked a little more put together—still in jeans, but with a sparkly black tank top, her auburn hair in curls around her shoulders. She was stunning. He got a good look at her face, too, since she was staring right at him. Her pouty lips were parted slightly, and he smirked.
Yeah, sometimes
he had that effect on women.
He was going to go over there and talk to her, but her friend seemed to pull her back down to earth, and he sensed a hostile environment. Maybe he would try again later.
He walked over to the bar and sat down, ordering a beer from the gruff, bearded bartender. He took the glass in his hand and drank deeply, wondering what his next move would be.
Being on leave sucked. He didn't want to be roaming around, filling his days with whatever he could rack his brain to do next. He liked the driving—the endless roads, the summer heat blasted away by the wind as he felt the power of his bike rumbling beneath him—but he missed the feeling of actually doing something. Anything.
He cursed the Captain under his breath and took another deep drink. He had been on leave for only a couple days, and it was already driving him crazy. He had caved and booked an appointment with the only non-military psychiatrist in town—some sort of Doctor C. Ashford—and his first appointment was on Monday morning.
He wondered how long it would take before he could convince the good doctor to let him go back to work. Then he wondered if that time would be made shorter if he employed a few bullying tactics.
He wasn't above that kind of thing. Not when it was for the greater good.
And it was. Putting Jamie on the sidelines to twiddle his thumbs was the biggest mistake the Captain could have made. He longed to be out there, fighting for his country and the rights of others. He needed to be out there with his fellow Navy Seals. And his country needed him too. He shuddered to think of the kind of negative impact his absence from duty might be having in the world. Sure, it probably wasn’t a huge difference—but any amount was too much.
And Jamie needed to be out there for him, too. It was more than just his sense of duty. He had red in his ledger, and he needed to make amends for it. There was only one way to do that, and it was to go out there and kill the sons of bitches who caused him so much torment in the first place.