Scruples
By
Ditter Kellen
Scruples
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Scruples Copyright © 2014 Ditter Kellen
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication July 2014
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, (Partnership name here)
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Dedication
Thank you to Cathe Green for not only being a great friend and sounding board, but for reading along with me as I wrote Carly and Logan’s story. I will always love and cherish you.
A huge thank you to Syneca Featherstone for not only proof reading the story, but for her graphics, book cover, and friendship. I adore her beyond the stars.
Thank you to Cassie Chapman, one of my oldest and dearest friends, for beta reading for me and being there for me when I needed a shoulder. Mad love for her.
Chad Stiller…thank you for being my muse for Logan. You truly brought his character to life with your generous nature, quiet strength and loving heart. I look forward to exploring that further. Much love.
Last but not least-A massive thank you to Brad and Michelle Harding for allowing me to use Bogey’s restaurant and bar as the backdrop for Scruples. I’ve been a frequent customer since I first walked into the place. The patrons are warm and friendly, and the food is amazing.
Bogey’s is known for its infamous Bloody Mary, which is mentioned a few times in the book, made by Sam, the bartender-often imitated, never duplicated.
Two of my favorite regulars are Greg and Jan, who have a cameo in the book and will reappear in several more.
Scruples
By
Ditter Kellen
Chapter One
Carly Bryson lifted her head and glared at the screaming alarm clock on her night stand. She didn’t need to look to know where the snooze button was located. This had been her morning routine for the past five years; she had it down to a science.
With a quickness that belied her drowsy state, she tapped the top of the clock to shut off the noise and buried her face back into the fluffy softness of her pillow. The five extra minutes of sleep she would get was as precious to her as gold.
Too soon, the annoying beeping shattered the silence of her room once again.
“Will you shut that shit off already? It’s Sunday, for crying out loud.” Her roommate’s voice drifted across the hall in a muffled growl, penetrating Carly’s sleep fogged brain.
She groped around for the cord to the little black box of nightmares and gave it a yank, silencing it in mid beep. Sunday was the only day of the week Scruples was closed and she didn’t have to roll out of bed with the chickens.
Carly’s grandfather, Dexter Bryson, had opened the café in 1920 during the depression. He’d later been informed after several instances of ghost sightings; the eatery was built on an ancient Indian burial ground. Dexter hadn’t been a superstitious man, but he’d seen things that couldn’t be explained, such as shadows passing through the kitchen when no one else should have been there but him, or strange, electrical charges when certain people darkened the door.
He’d somehow managed to keep Bryson’s Cafe afloat until it began to flourish, and later passed it on to Charles, his only son in 1988. Dexter lost the battle with cancer when Carly was a young teenager, and her father had died soon after from the same dreaded disease.
Sarina, Carly’s mother, struggled to maintain the café on her own until Carly was forced to drop out of college and return home to help. She’d opted to close the doors or sell the place, but Charles had left it to his daughter in his will and Carly wouldn’t hear of it.
Her mother had drilled it into her since she’d been a small child to get out of Walton County and make a name for herself. She’d enlisted her daughter in every beauty pageant and play the town had to offer. Carly had been groomed for entertaining at an early age. It was engrained in her.
If she could only find a balance, she thought as she rolled to her back and threw an arm over her face. She’d considered asking Cassandra to run things in her absence if opportunity came knocking at her door.
As much as she loved her home in DeFuniak Springs, Florida, Carly’s dream of leaving the small town behind and settling in California to start a modeling career was still alive, but fading by the day. She was twenty eight years old and crow’s feet would be arriving soon for an unwelcome stay.
It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her lot in life, and having roots in Walton County gave her a sense of belonging. The locals were big hearted, hard working and giving. That didn’t mean a few weren’t slightly nosey and clannish. On the contrary. Several of them were usually parked in her business like a gnat at a barbeque. They had their faults as with any other small community, but they meant well.
Carly remodeled the café shortly after taking it over. The overall facelift of the place increased the value, and changing the name from Bryson’s to Scruples just felt right somehow. It boasted of a small, elegant bar up front, with a restaurant in the back. They served everything from home cooked meals at lunch to fine dining in the evenings. It was a favorite among the locals, and people came from all over to eat there.
A soft noise caught her attention and she strained to listen. What the hell?
The sound came again, only louder, followed by a moan and a few other unmentionables. It became abundantly clear that her roommate had company, and they weren’t making biscuits.
With a sigh of frustration, Carly covered her head with a pillow and faced the wall opposite of the obvious copulation taking place across the hall.
Cassandra Crawford had been Carly’s closest friend since kindergarten. The two of them were inseparable. Cassandra’s life hadn’t been a bed of roses, but she’d made the best of it and never stopped smiling.
Leaving Cassie behind to attend college in Alabama had been hard on Carly, but they’d spent every spare moment they could texting and visiting on weekends. Troy State University being less than two hours away had made things easier on both of them.
A feminine chuckle suddenly interrupted Carly’s trip down memory lane. It came as no surprise that Cassandra had found something humorous, anymore than the male cursing or doors slamming shortly after did.
Carly rolled to her back in anticipation of the details that were sure to come. She didn’t have long to wait before the door was thrown open to admit a disheveled Cassie, wearing a man’s t-shirt and a smirk. Her pretty blonde hair had fallen from a clip on one side, giving her a teenage appearance.
“Are you sleeping?” She asked from the open doorway.
Carly squinted against the light spilling from the hall bathroom. “Between the alarm, the live porn, and needing to pee worse than I can ever remember, I’d say I’m awake.”
Cassandra grinned and marched into the room without preamble. She plopped down next to Carly on the bed. “Slide Clyde.”
After making room for the flamboyant blonde, Carly closed her eyes and hid a smile. “Whom do I owe the pleasure of this morning’s entertainment?”
“Justin. And I must say it wasn’t very entertaining for me.”
“I thought you guys broke up last week?” She cracked her lids open and glanced at Cassandra.
“We did.”
“Then why? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. What was the fight about this time?”
“He wanted me on top, facing him,” Cassandra responded like they were discussing the weather.
Carly couldn’t fight her smile any longer. She turned onto her side, propping her head on her palm. “You fought over who was on top?”
“He knows I don’t like that position with him.”
“Why not?” Carly couldn’t wait to hear the explanation for that one.
“His penis is bent.”
“Bent? Wait…what? You mean curved? Most men are curved, aren’t they?”
“No. I mean bent, as in straight down.”
A chuckle bubbled up with the visual Cassie created, and Carly fell back in a fit of side splitting laughter. She laughed until tears ran from the corners of her eyes. It took several attempts to get her next question out. “Does it resemble Gonzo’s nose?”
“Not funny,” Cassandra scolded with a grin. “And before you say anything else, I’m not making fun of him; I’m only pointing out the facts.”
“Really, Cass? What would that be?”
“It’s painful at that angle.”
“So, then turn around and face away from him.”
“That is exactly what I wanted to do, and it pissed him off. I don’t get it Carls, most men love that position. But not Justin. He thinks I do it to stay detached.” She shook her head. “What a girl.”
“Are you sure there isn’t some truth to that?” Carly asked in a soft voice.
“Of course not. I told you why.”
“Yes. Bent dick. Got it.”
Both women chuckled a moment before falling into a comfortable silence. It had always been that way with Cassandra. Even in bad times they’d managed to laugh or simply be still, neither of them speaking. Just being together was enough.
“Can I stay in here for a while?”
“Of course.” Carly smiled and turned on her side. “But you gotta rub my hair.”
“How did I know that was coming?”
Chapter Two
Carly cracked her eyes open on a jaw popping yawn. The morning sun shone through the blinds in a brilliant glow of golden warmth. A rooster crowed in the distance, signaling a wakeup call older than time.
“I vote we shoot him. A lot,” Cassandra mumbled from her position under a mound of covers.
Carly lips twitched. “We’re not killing the rooster, unless you want to pluck him and fire up the grill.”
“I just had my nails done or I’d be on him like white on rice.”
“Saved by a French manicure,” Carly quipped. “I’m going to jump in the shower; Missy’s wedding is at noon.” She glanced at the clock on the night stand only to recall she’d unplugged it earlier that morning.
Cassandra’s sleepy face appeared from beneath the blankets. “It’s too early to get up. Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t. I haven’t been to the bathroom yet, and my bladder feels like an over filled water balloon.”
“Okay. Wake me up when you emerge from your shower.”
“No deal. It’s your turn to make breakfast, Cinderella.” Carly slid out of bed and stumbled from the room with a string of curses echoing behind her.
* * * * *
Logan Sanders straightened his tie and ran a hand through his dark hair. He hated weddings almost as much as he hated funerals. They were emotional moments in time he’d rather not be a part of. The only reason he’d agreed to attend Kent and Missy’s nuptials had to do with a small brunette named Carly Bryson.
He stepped into his boots, grabbed his Stetson and headed out the door to his truck. The big, black Chevy sported a layer of dust despite recently being washed.
The joys of living on a dirt road, Logan mused as he climbed inside and started the engine. He never bothered to remove the keys; no one would steal from him anyway. Between the amount of weapons he possessed and the two wolves that ran loose on his property, he lived a pretty crime free life.
Logan rolled down the window and let out an ear piercing whistle. “Kojak. Alabama.” A massive wolf came bounding out of the barn with a slightly smaller one right on his heels. The two muscular animals skidded to a stop next to the truck in a jumble of dust and legs.
“On watch.” Both wolves leapt onto the porch to take up their usual positions when guarding the house.
“I’ll be back shortly,” Logan muttered as he donned his Ray-bans. He rolled up the window, put the truck in gear and backed out of the yard.
The long, bumpy drive to the main road was littered with pot holes and mud due to the all night rain. Logan drove along the edge to avoid as much of the mess as possible while trying to stay out of the ditch. He had ten minutes to make it to the church before the wedding started. He’d arrive in five, he thought with a grin.
* * * *
Logan glanced at his watch as he pulled into the parking lot of First Baptist Church, and switched off the engine. He’d made it with a couple of minutes to spare, but not enough time for a smoke. He looked longingly at the pack of cigarettes lying on the seat before jumping out and easing the door shut behind him.
Sounds of the wedding march spilling out into the foyer could be heard as Logan entered the building. He rushed through the big wooden doors that led into the tabernacle just seconds ahead of the bride, and grabbed a seat on the back row.
All eyes were on him. Maybe because he’d nearly mowed a bridesmaid down on his way in. It couldn’t possibly be because my dumb ass is still wearing this big cowboy hat and Gary Allen’s latest hit, It ain’t the whiskey just belted out from my cell. No, it couldn’t be that.
Logan silenced his phone and removed his hat. It didn’t take him long to spot Carly sitting on the other side of the isle, a few rows up. She resembled something out of a magazine with her long, dark hair flowing down her back and a red dress that clung to her like a second skin. He could only imagine what she’d look like standing. He didn’t have long to wait.
Everyone stood as the bride made her grand entrance. But Logan only had eyes for Carly. He’d been right in his assessment of her attire. The dress molded to her breasts, hugged her hips and ended inches above her knees. He found her breathtaking, but she was oblivious to that fact. She thought of him as a brother. Logan Sanders, the most eligible bachelor in Walton County had been friend zoned.
Carly must have felt him staring. She met his gaze and sent him a wink. His heart skipped a beat, but he managed to return the gesture without drooling. He hoped.
Time seemed to drag by for Logan. After checking his watch for the tenth time, he decided to step outside for a smoke. Between babies crying, and the minister droning on about sickness and in health in that drive a man insane monotone voice he had, Logan was ready to pull his hair out.
“You may kiss the bride,” The preacher announced from the podium.
Logan grabbed his hat without waiting for the exchange, and made a beeline for the doors. He didn’t stop until he reached his truck. He jerked the door open, snatched up his pack of cigarettes and patted his pockets for a lighter.
“You’re going to light up in the church parking lot?” Cassandra spoke from behind him.
He spun around in surprise. “Shit. Where did you come from?”
“Now you’re cursing on sacred grounds. You’re going to hell, Logan Sanders.”
“I’m sorry. I—“
Cassandra laughed. “I’m kidding. Lighten up, Goliath.”
Her nickname for him had started in high school shortly after his growth spurt. He’d been six foot five by graduation, and hadn’t stopped growing until his ear
ly twenties.
“Are you coming to the house for lunch?” Cassie looked everywhere but at him. She seemed nervous to Logan, shifty eyed and tense.
“I wasn’t invited.”
“You just were.”
“Well, then I guess I am.” He glanced over his shoulder to see what had her so skittish, but there was no one there. “Are you alright?”
“What? Yes, I’m fine. I hear Carly. You’d better put those things away.” She nodded toward the pack of cigarettes. “You know how she feels about them.”
He did know. Carly’s father and grandfather had both died from cancer at a fairly young age. Ironically enough, neither of them had been smokers.
Logan tossed his red and white pack of addiction onto the seat of his truck, and watched the object of his affection approach. She’s even more beautiful in the sunlight. He looked away before she caught him staring.
Carly came to a stop next to Cassandra. “I didn’t know your mom and dad would be here.”
“Neither did I,” Cassandra responded before stepping back. “We better get going. I’m starved.”
“Aren’t you going to say hello to them?” Logan noticed the tension coming from the blonde.
Cassandra ran a hand through her hair. “I’ll call them when I get home. They’re probably over there arguing anyway.”
“Are you coming to the house, Logan? It’s Cassie’s turn to cook.” Carly grinned.
“Well, since Cassandra’s cooking, I reckon I will.”
“Kiss my ass, Logan Sanders.” Carly teased.
“Potty mouth.” Cassandra scolded. “You’re both going to hell.”
Logan laughed and climbed into his truck. “I’ll see you at the house.”
Chapter Three
Cassandra was unusually quiet on the drive home. Carly wondered how much of it had to do with Justin. She glanced over at her close-lipped friend and frowned. “Out with it.”
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