Uncle Plats

by Aqua Allsopp

  She looked at the glistening ring on her finger and smiled into her phone. “I’m staying because I said yes.”

  THE END

  Bonus Stories

  15 special bonus stories!

  Please go to Next Page to start reading your first bonus story!

  Contents for Bonus Stories

  Sail with Me

  What the Heart Wants

  Game of Love

  Sarah’s Heart

  Enriching Abandon

  On the Outside Looking In

  A Mismatch Made in Muscle

  Fire in the Heart

  In Good Time

  Hearts on Fire

  Aspen Ice Queen

  The Last Cowboy in West Texas

  Between Two Worlds

  The Champ of Champaneer

  Always Faithful

  Bonus Story 1 of 15

  Sail with Me

  Description

  Sail with me is a clean, clever, romantic, adventure about a woman named Lindsey Grantham. Lindsey is a bright, beautiful, and successful thirty-eight-year-old woman, who’s managed to still look, and some may say behave, like a twenty-something.

  Lindsey was born and bred in San Antonio, Texas and she is Southern fried sophistication at its best.

  She has it all except for a husband and a baby. And approaching forty is making her a little crazy because she hears her biological clock tick-tick-ticking.

  So, Lindsey is taking drastic measures to manipulate her online dating profile to make herself appear compatible with as many men as possible in the hopes that she’ll find—the one! The one man who will marry her, give her a baby and make her life complete.

  This clever romantic comedy also has some emotionally charged topics for women and men. The drama gets really hot and heavy when Lindsey’s kidnapped by the Mexican drug cartel—Caliente! Lindsey gets rescued by U.S. Special Forces, DEA, and FBI, but not before a wild sailboat ride.

  *****

  “This photo from that SUP-Yoga Retreat (SUP—Stand Up Paddle) will make the perfect new profile photo. Without the magical instructions of that brilliant Yoga-Guru, I’ll never get into that pose again, and I do look fit and fabulous in my one legged back bend,” Lindsey said.

  Then she continued I saying, “Just look at me, Robbie. I’m long and lean, young and fit, who wouldn’t want to make babies with me? Thank God someone in my class whipped out an iPhone and snapped a pic.”

  Robbie blushed and covered his face with both hands, while trying to shake that terrible image of baby making out of his head.

  “Click, upload, and save. There, now let’s tweak my hobbies. We’ll just add sailing—no, not in the first position, let’s put it down here at number three. Perfect! What do you think Robbie?” asked Lindsey Grantham.

  “I think you’re freakin’ loca-loca-loca”, Robbie sang in his best Dizzee Rascal voice from the Shakira video. “But what do I know Aunt Lindsey? I’m eleven.”

  Lindsey giggled softly as she placed her hand over her nephew’s mouth. “Shh, don’t say freakin’. If your mom hears your potty-mouth, she’ll tear me a new one for corrupting you.” Then she sweetly kissed Robbie’s forehead.

  “But you don’t know how to sail. What happens if Peter St. James sends you a wink, or a poke, or a whatever, and asks you to go sailing with him, and you can’t sail? Have you ever even been on a boat before?”

  “I can canoe and kayak, I’ve been on a jet ski, and a powerboat.”

  “Not the same thing Aunt Lindsey; totally not the same thing. And on a sailboat, everybody works. There are no freeloaders on a sailboat, everybody has a job.”

  “I’ll just be so pretty that he’ll want me to just sit there and look cute. I can talk my way out of working hard.”

  “What will you do when he starts telling you to trim the sails, or prepare to tack? Then what?” Robbie asked in a high-pitched and very animated voice, feeling exasperated by his Aunt’s online antics.

  Lindsey turned to Robbie who was seated next to her at his mother’s kitchen table. As they stared at her online dating profile splashed across her MacBook, Lindsey said in a sexy Southern voice, “Why that’s what I have you for Darlin’. You’ll just teach me how to sail.”

  “Ugh!” Robbie yelled with both hands covering his red, frustrated face, “there ought to be a Boy Scout merit badge in crazy, desperate, aunt management.”

  Lindsey was going off the rails trying to be all things to all men and taking her poor nephew right into the nut house with her.

  “What Shug?” Lindsey asked as she looked once again at her candy-cane red nail polish, noticing how it made her hands look like white porcelain. No easy feat in the hot Texas sun.

  “Never mind Aunt Lindsey”, the emotionally and physically drained Robbie said as he stood and walked to the back door as if he were walking to the gallows for hanging. His aunt Lindsey followed dutifully behind him.

  “It’s time for your archery lesson. You only have two more days until your big date with the bow hunter.”

  Lindsey gained a giddy skip to her step at the reminder of her bowyer. His profile said he’s a six-foot, five-inch former college linebacker, and his shirtless photos showed that he is shredded to death with rippling muscles.

  In her red, four-inch, strappy sandals, black, calf length, pencil skirt, with a back zipper, and white silk, sleeveless blouse, Lindsey stood more than two feet taller than her nephew and was assuredly overdressed for archery, in her work attire.

  “Aunt Lindsey, you’ll have to take off your shoes if you want me to be able to correct your arm positioning. Right now I’d need a ladder to even reach your elbow.” Robbie said as he took account of her improper archery clothing, stance, and the way she knocked the arrow.

  “Sorry Shug, watchalae,” watch out Lindsey said as she kicked her shoes across the grass and out of the way.

  Living in San Antonio Texas, she and her family couldn’t help but allow some Mexican expressions to creep into their everyday language, and they kind of like it that way. Lindsey thinks it makes her sound ethnic and exotic. Of course dating a few wealthy Mexican businessmen has increased Lindsey’s Spanish vocabulary a bit.

  For when it comes to finding a man, Lindsey’s motto is “get in where you fit in, Shug.”

  Texans love calling each other Shug, hon, and darlin’. To non-Texans, it might seem a little dated, and too familiar to say this to anyone outside of your inner circle of friends and family.

  Calling someone sugar (Shug), honey (hon), or darling (darlin’), to a Texan, “hell we don’t mean nothin’ by it, we’s just bein’ friendly is all”—some might say.

  Lindsey was a trends analyst; she predicted what’s trending and businesses, celebrities, even government candidates used that information to make decisions on branding, products, investments, or even to appeal to voters. And Lindsey used it to get a man.

  But she didn’t need to do all of that. Lindsey was sweet, kind, and loyal; and as much as she may have driven her nephew crazy, he loved her and thought she’d be a great mom.

  But Lindsey was crazed by the prospect of finding a man and getting married now that she has turned thirty-eight, thirty-eight and a half to be precise.

  It wasn’t all Lindsey’s fault that she was husband and baby obsessed. A woman has a lot of pressure to “make it.” In high school, she needed to make the team, or make it into the popular crowd, make it into the right college, make it out of college with a degree, make it into the right company, make the promotion, make the right impression on the right man so that she can make a baby before tick-tickey-boom!

  Her eggs are too old to make a healthy baby. Lindsey was fast approaching forty and she didn’t even have a boyfriend.

  “You must be Kevin, hi I’m…”

  “I’d recognize you anywhere, you’re Lindsey, you look just like your profile photos.”

  “Why thank you. I see you’ve changed a little since posting your profile. Pleasure to meet you just the
same.”

  “So are you up for some archery today?”

  “Yeah, I’m ready to go, let's nock a few arrows, Lindsey laughed, with Kevin joining in on the archery joke. As Lindsey followed behind Kevin while he got them all checked-in at the indoor/outdoor archery range, she couldn’t help but mentally cross Kevin off her prospective husband list. “Former college linebacker? Well it looks like he ate a linebacker, or he’s hiding a keg in his tee-shirt,” Lindsey thought to herself.

  He failed the “can I look at this person every day for the rest of my life, and not want to plot his murder” test.

  Lindsey had already mentally checked out of this date. She went through the motions of laughing at Kevin’s jokes and making small talk.

  She even shot three arrows in a row from five-yards. Afterward, she thought to herself, “Well at least this is another hobby I’ll be able to teach my kids someday.”

  After two hours of archery, Kevin asked Lindsey out to lunch. She politely refused, claiming a previous engagement. Kevin gave her a bear hug as if she were his long lost sister, and they departed company.

  Disappointed by how Kevin deceived her about his physical fitness, Lindsey began to have that sinking feeling that the love, marriage, and baby boat was sailing away out of her reach.

  The sound of her cell phone, vibrating from inside the Kate Spade handbag sitting in her passenger seat, jolted Lindsey out of a dark place. The place where she starts imagining a life without birthing children and becoming very, very, sad.

  Lindsey looked at the caller ID before deciding to answer. “Hey Shug,” Lindsey, cheerfully said to Rachel.

  “Lindsey, I need a huge favor,” Rachel begged.

  “Okay, what is it?”

  “Stephen’s fraternity brother is in town for a job interview and Stephen really wants him to accept the offer, so he plans to show him a good time this weekend.”

  “Okay?” Lindsey said questioningly.

  “Please hang out with us this weekend Lindsey. I don’t know what Stephen’s friend looks like or what kind of person he is, but I know he’ll have more fun if he’s not a third wheel—Please Linds’?

  Rachel could hear Lindsey sigh heavily into the phone, and knew she was at least thinking about saying yes.

  “Okay, it’s golf today at three, dinner and dancing tonight, and brunch tomorrow, that’s it; I promise. What do you say?”

  “Three o’clock, that’s two hours from now! Oh, okay, I’ll do my best, but beauty takes time honey, that’s not a fifteen-minute job. But for you? I’ll be there and I’ll look amazing,” sang Lindsey.

  “Thanks, girl—love you!” and they each hung up.

  *****

  Lindsey believed every time there is the most remote chance that she might bump into a man, she should look her best. Fearing she will meet “the man of her dreams” and not make a good impression.

  As Lindsey stepped out of her car, ten minutes, fashionably late, Rachel smiled and silently said, “That’s my girl.”

  Lindsey wore her chestnut hair in a side, loose, flat-ironed ponytail. She looked amazing in her dark gray, Nike, spandex, collared jersey, with a matching gray on pink, golf skort. Sizing her up, Rachel’s husband Stephen, objectively thought that she was elegant, in a hot way, and silently approved of Lindsey’s appearance as well. Rachel and Stephen looked pleased.

  After greeting her friends, Lindsey asked, “So where’s your friend Stephen?”

  “Uh, he’s in the pro shop, he’ll be right back,” Stephen replied.

  “Oh, okay. So, I shot three arrows in a nice little quarter-sized shot group today,” bragged Lindsey when Stephen’s friend walked out of the pro shop and began walking towards them.

  Lindsey didn’t hear any of the questions Rachel and Stephen asked. Her eyes were transfixed on the six-foot, six-inch, NBA All-Star looking, blue eyed, blond headed man coming her way.

  Noticing his friend approaching, Stephen said, “Lindsey this is Jessie James. Jessie, this is Lindsey Grantham.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Lindsey,” Jessie said as he extended a strong but decidedly gentle hand toward Lindsey.

  Lindsey daintily shook his hand and smiled widely.

  Jessie, who was looking down on Lindsey with his own broad smile, seemed just as pleased with her.

  “Pleasure to me you too Jessie,” beamed Lindsey.

  Not knowing that at forty-three, single, and childless, Jessie’s biological clock was ticking too. He was starting to wonder if he would develop prostate cancer or suffer from erectile dysfunction before he found his soul-mate and procreated.

  The afternoon passed all too quickly for Lindsey and Jessie. They laughed at how ugly, yet effective Lindsey’s golf swing was. They laughed at how Stephen and Rachel argued about which one of them was causing their team to lose at nine holes, of best ball, golf. They laughed at Jessie’s name—Jessie Jackson James!

  They had a great afternoon and an even better evening. The presence of Stephen and Rachel was barely even noticed because Lindsey and Jessie spent most of the night staring at each other.

  In between love-sick gazes, Stephen talked about how good it would be to have his buddy, Jessie, back in town and working for the same company. And about what great opportunities the organization offered.

  But by the end of the evening, as Jessie road in the back seat of Stephen’s car, he couldn’t help feeling that Lindsey had already sealed the deal for him. Seeing that far off look in Jessie’s face made Stephen sure that his friend would accept the job, to be close to Lindsey.

  When Lindsey got home she considered shutting down her online dating account but thought better of it. “I should at least keep it active until Jessie accepts the jobs and moves to San Antone,” Lindsey advised herself. Instead, she spent the night cyberstalking Jessie all over social media to learn more about him.

  The more she discovered, the more she liked him, and she couldn’t wait to see him at brunch the next morning.

  Brunch was great. Jessie said all of the right things and made all of the right moves. He paid attention to Lindsey and engaged in conversation with her. He complimented her red, A-line sundress, and even noticed her candy-cane red nails.

  By the time coffee was served, Jessie had delicately lifted Lindsey’s hand off the table and kissed it, like a 16th century, French man.

  Lindsey had a hard time playing it cool, but she pulled it off. Even Rachel drooled from across the table, glancing at her own husband, Stephen as if he were a cretin

  Jessie walked Lindsey to her car and kissed her sweetly on the lips, caressing her face in his hand. “If I don’t get this job, I’ll be looking for another position in San Antonio. There’s no way that I can keep living in Boston now.”

  Lindsey blushed and looked away until Jessie began to speak again.

  “I like you Lindsey and I want to get to know you better. I’m in corporate law, somebody’s got to have an opening for me. I’ll be back in San Antonio Linds!”

  “I hope so,” is all that Lindsey could manage to say. Her body was coursing with so many hormones, that her eggs felt a tectonic shift inside her body. Lindsey was thinking about making babies with Jessie!

  *****

  Things are no picnic on the other side of the gender coin either. Prospective husbands have their own pressures.

  In the 21st century, women can run for president, join the Special Forces, and lead multimillion dollar, multinational companies.

  But men are still on the societal hook to learn a trade or get a degree, stay out of jail and off drugs, settle down, find a wife, make babies, and be able to support his family.

  All while being strong and invincible, capable of fixing anything, and sensitive enough to talk about his feelings—and braid a little girl’s hair.

  “Want a beer?”

  “Sure thanks, man. When did you start drinking Fat Tire? I can’t believe you drink craft beer now? Where’s your Budweiser, Jake?

  “Dude don’t even act l
ike you don’t know. It’s Katrina, she’s changing everything about me, man. Look at me, I look so amazing in these clothes even I would date me.”

  “I do like your skinny jeans and vest man. And the way you’ve got your sleeves rolled up to show off your tatts, that’s on fleek right there man!” Randy sarcastically said, but with a hint of envy.

  “I know, and check it out. You see this beard? Professionally manscaped bro!”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I know. And the weird thing is, I love to hate it! I mean I love how I look; I would never have thought of this combination of clothes. But at the same time, I hate that Katrina’s influencing and changing me so much.”

  “But it is kinda cool that you don’t drink the same beer as your dad anymore, Jake.”

  “See that’s what I mean. I love the changes, but I hate that Katrina made me change, I didn’t change me, she did!”

  “Well, it could be worse. She could be changing you into a drugged out loser. Instead, she’s making you cool and hip. Your business is even taking off since she did that marketing campaign for you.”

  “I know, I know, she’s awesome, but Dude, my parents are pressuring me to marry her. Do you know how hard it would be to be married to a smart, rich woman Dude?”

  “No, tell me about how rough your life will be Jake.”

  “Dude, even when your wife makes a lot of money—like six figures, it’s still not cool for a man to stay home with the kids.”

  “Or, to do a job that doesn’t make a lot of money, but makes him happy,” Randy interjects.

  “Right, Dude, you understand how I feel.”

  “Yeah, I do, take my own situation, Jake. If I decided to be a professional skateboarder my mom would lose it and my dad would never speak to me again.

  “But if you were really good at it I’d still be your friend, even if you are making money disguised as a 14-year old boy.”

  “Thanks, Jake. But seriously, my dad’s always telling me that he can get me a good job at his company where I could “actually put that $60,000 bachelor’s degree to good use.”