Lunchtime Chronicles: Jolly Rancher

by London, S.

  His memory is back, and he’s still a grump. But my ass-spanking cowboy really is a cuddler. The verbal sparring happens on a daily basis, but so does make up sex. Which is da bomb dot com.

  Diesel intertwines his fingers with mine, locking our hands together. Facing each other, I smile, delighting at the fine laugh lines framing his grin. I’m still getting used to his laughter. I think he is too.

  “We got time for a quickie,” he whispers.

  The sonorous sound of a truck engine outside says differently. The gang has arrived.

  “They’re here,” I squeal, jumping out of bed. “Put on your ugly Christmas sweater.”

  “I’m not wearing that shit.” He tosses the covers aside. “I love you, but not enough to have a pale-assed Santa Claus mooning Christmas carolers on my chest.”

  I lick out my tongue. “Bah humbug,” I call, handing him one of his presents. It’s a fleece pullover I had custom-designed with my face and a public service announcement. It reads: Warning. I’m taken, and my girlfriend is armed and extremely dangerous.

  I thought it was cute. Diesel laughed so hard when he opened the box, tears collected on those ridiculously long lashes. But he gifted me with another horseback ride before bed. Hollander might need a horse whisperer appointment if we keep fucking in the barn.

  Dressed, we step onto the front porch and frown. Parked in the driveway is a Du-Haul. Two rear doors open, and I recognize my twin’s towering hair puff and Uncle Earl’s pimp daddy cane. But then, Keanu climbs down from behind the wheel.

  “What’s he doing here?” The expression on Diesel’s face says he’s ready to transform into, what was it Keanu had called him, Optimus Prime.

  “Grinchy, it’s Christmas. Everyone deserves to feel love today.”

  “Sister.” Dressed in a skintight red bodysuit with matching Jordans, Maxi sprints towards me with outstretched arms.

  “Maxi.” I return her embrace, whispering, “Why you bring Keanu?”

  She rears back, smirking. “Bring him?” She waves. “He never left. Who you think been dealing cards since you ran off? Besides, Big Mama had him trade the truck for a van. They have been delivering Christmas trees for the church.” Looking around at the rustic setting, she shakes her head. “How in the Joseph, Mary, and Martha, did you find this place?”

  Now, I know Lazarus was Mary and Martha’s brother. Maxi spent our Sunday school days with the pastor’s son in the coat closet, so there’s some gaps in her theology. She’s still the best sister I could hope for, so I let it slide.

  Uncle Earl is right behind Maxi, his white afro slicked back from his forehead. He’s dressed in a bright red three-piece suit with a pants leg crease so sharp it could slice warm bread. “Maxi, you need Jesus.” He laughs. “Joseph was married to the Virgin Mary, not that other woman.”

  My favorite uncle looks at me with Diesel holding my hand and smiles.

  “Merry Christmas, baby girl.” He winks. “Big Mama and I missed you at the card table.”

  I squeeze my man’s hand. “I have a new player this year.” I beam, happier than I’ve been all year.

  Diesel ignores all the holiday cheer, his green orbs fixed on the Du-Haul van and a pensive Keanu leaning against the front fender, unmoving.

  I call a festive, “Happy holidays,” to my former boyfriend for Christmas. “We have plenty of food inside. You’re welcome to join us.”

  With my elbow I jab Diesel in the ribs. He lets out an oomph.

  “Invite him to stay,” I mutter under my breath.

  Diesel snaps out of his Hulk smash persona, wrapping me in his arms. “You’re going to get your ass spanked.” He grins.

  “Promises. Promises,” I tease.

  Keanu ambles over to the porch, standing toe-to-toe with a stern faced Diesel.

  “Hey, Mandy,” he says with a tilt of his chin, then he looks up at Diesel. “What’s up, Optimus.” His voice is hard, but I know Keanu is a softie at heart. “You got room for one more?”

  “Yep,” Diesel says through pursed lips.

  “Cool,” Keanu says, extending his hand.

  My man shakes it, and just like that, were one big happy family for Christmas. We turn to go in the house, but then I remember who we’ve forgotten.

  “Where’s Big Mama?”

  Maxi rolls her eyes. “Gurl,” she drawls, “she claims she heard the radio station say something about a grandmama being run over by reindeer. She refuses to get of the van.”

  “That’s a song,” I exclaim.

  “Tell her that. We all tried.” Maxi disappears inside the house, but not before adding, “You can thank me later for Diesel.”

  My first instinct is to clap back, but then I look in my Grinchy’s smiling face. Maxi’s right. I am thankful that I, in all my wisdom, gave love and the magic of Christmas a second chance.

  Cupping my hand at the side of my mouth, I yell, “Big Mama, it’s safe! Come inside!”

  The whine of a motorized window lowering sounds. “Send the ass-spanking cowboy to carry me inside!” she yells back, her voice filled with humor.

  Oh, no she didn’t. This is a set up. My grandmama is flirting with my man. Diesel goes to step off the porch, but I stop him.

  “Big Mama,” I yell, “Keanu will bring you a plate! Stay warm!”

  Diesel bursts out laughing. “A very Mandy Christmas,” he chuckles, “is the best I’ve ever had. I love you, sweetness.”

  Squeezing his hand, I lead my man inside. “I love you too, Jolly Rancher.”

  “Does that mean you’re moving in?”

  I look over my shoulder, arrested by those bright green eyes of his. “You’ll have to wait until next season for my answer.” I wink.

  Diesel snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me into his warm embrace. “You’re going to get your ass spanked.”

  Merry Christmas, Lunchtime.

  Consuming Logan

  by Siera London

  (Excerpt)

  Logan

  THE PROBLEM WITH WEDDINGS was they required patience. Logan Masters never acquired the skill, especially when applied to his woman. He wanted Ava as his wife—now. But family had swept them up in a tidal wave of pre-wedding plans. Begrudgingly, he had come along for the ride. Ava seemed exhausted by his mother’s acrimony and the barrage of matrimonial decisions, sleeping more than her usual eight hours. Maribelle believed his fiancée a poor addition to the Masters dynasty. In truth Logan’s heart condition ran deeper than blood ties. He coveted the woman in his arms more than maternal approval, more than the air in his lungs.

  Per his usual, Logan awoke a few minutes early just to watch Ava sleep. Outside, gentle winds from an approaching May shower rattled the hollow chimes hanging from the porch below. The street lighting peeked through the shutters, brushing hazy kisses of light across shapely legs atop the covers. Unfettered by the noise, Ava snuggled closer, curling into the hard planes of Logan’s chest. Her heart-shaped face, an array of soft lines with fairy-like features, scrunched and then relaxed. She shifted again and he glanced at the digital clock on the oak dresser.

  Four-forty.

  In the quiet of the morning, Ava Elaine Walters, registered nurse, US Navy lieutenant, and all-around sexy goddess belonged to him. A selfish indulgence in which he kept the outside world at bay, enjoying an inner contentment only experienced through the love of a good woman. Like an erotic portrait, she lay in beautiful stillness in his arms. Like a gentle wave, his hungry gaze flowed over smooth golden skin, caressing the feminine contours and soft swells draped in a triple-string lace negligee. His pulse raced remembering the sound of her cries as he pleasured her. She lured him, a siren welcoming a sea-weary sailor to shore. No other woman commanded his attention.

  Only Ava.

  He’d known she would be his that first day she stepped into the pediatric unit. Of course, that was before their breakup and Ava’s Navy commissioning. They’d announce their wedding date tonight in a lavish formal affair at the Tower Club.
Then, in four long months, she’d walk down the aisle, place her delicate fingers in his, and say, I do.

  His prize.

  Lifting his hand, he tucked a stray ringlet behind her ear. “I love you,” he whispered.

  Eyes hidden behind sweeping lashes fluttered open, their honeyed glow reminding him of the approaching sunrise.

  “Love you too,” she murmured, before her lids slipped closed.

  He dropped a kiss to the crown of her head. Thick cinnamon curls tickled his nose before flowing like silk ribbons across his abdomen. Content with his place in the world, he inhaled her vanilla scent, relaxing when the sweet floral undertones and rich chocolate notes filled his nostrils.

  “You have five more minutes.”

  “Ugh,” she groaned, slinging one arm over her head. “I need to get my butt up and work out.”

  “That’s my job,” Logan teased. Encircling one arm around her back, Logan settled his large hand on her derriere. Ava had gained a few pounds since returning home. “Besides more cushion for the pushing is good by me.”

  Tilting her head back, she cracked open both eyelids. A silly grin appeared before she gave him a playful once over. “Seriously,” she smirked, “do you always have sex on the brain?”

  “Let’s see,” he said, making small circles on her bare hip. “I have a Y chromosome.”

  “There’s that,” she said, collapsing back onto the pillow of his bicep.

  He chuckled. “And, I’m breathing.”

  “A definite plus because I have no intentions of taking it easy on you, old man.”

  Four years earlier at the mention of the eight years between his and Ava’s age her parents had wanted him to stay clear of their middle daughter. It was as impossible then as it was now. He refused to consider a life without Ava at his side. Which fed into his worry—maybe concern was a better word, about Ava’s solemn attitude about tonight. A bride-to-be should be excited. Though she ignored many of his mother’s attacks, he knew the rejection hurt.

  “You have jokes.” He twisted settling his weight between her spread thighs. “Getting lost inside you is my last thought at night. And, the first every morning.”

  Reaching up, Ava rubbed her hand against his morning scruff. “That’s a good little doctor.”

  Like a well-trained tiger eager for attention, he pressed in closer. She loved stroking his facial hair, so he’d kept the lumberjack look. His woman cuddling him liked a rescued pussycat was definitely a win-win in his book.

  “I’ve got the opposite of little right here,” Logan growled, grinding his massive erection into her damp center. The blood in his veins hummed where they touched. Ava's fingers curled in the bed sheets, and the pulse at her neck hammered with the rhythm of his heartbeat. He delivered a sharp nip to her neck, the act both primitive and possessive.

  “Hey,” she objected, fingers trailing over the love bite. “Someone might see that at work.”

  With a grin, he looked down in admiration at his visible mark and the telltale heat spreading across her flushed skin.

  “Goal accomplished. They’ll know you belong to me.” Running his tongue over the barely-there red mark, he chuckled when Ava shivered at the contact. He wanted to possess her for always. Protect her forever. “You like it,” he growled, his tone filled with a masculine arrogance.

  “You love it,” Ava retorted, caressing his bulge.

  Indeed, he did, especially when she used soft hands to deliver firm strokes. Logan dropped a possessive hand to the back of her neck. Lust-filled eyes regarded him beneath long inky lashes. Her smile, when it appeared, was slow, tempting, and inviting.

  “And you.” Holding her gaze, Logan kneaded her small waist before trailing up until his hand came to rest on her supple breast. A soft groan slipped from Ava’s lips.

  “Your hands are magic.”

  He raised a brow. “And, my tongue?”

  Sealing his lips, he stroked his tongue along the underside of her finger, grazing the top with his teeth before releasing it. The pulse at her neck quickened.

  “Even better,” she moaned.

  The air charged with need causing the hairs at his nape to stand on end. Lifting her chin until their eyes met, he lowered his mouth to hers.

  “Don’t tell my scalpel,” he rasped. Logan ran his tongue over her full lower lip and growled at the familiar sweetness. Every talent, every accomplishment, every fiber in his body had been tailored to pleasing this one woman. He fed her appetite as much as she satiated his.

  “Taste,” he whispered, not waiting for her to comply. And her lips, plump enough to quench a man’s thirst, formed the perfect plush cushion. They parted on a throaty sigh. Logan tilted his head and surged into her mouth. At contact, a fire ignited in his blood. For a moment, he marveled at the sensual taste of her. She stole the air from his lungs and gave him the breath of life all at once.

  “Let’s get married today.” To hell with a big wedding. Logan wanted a signed, sealed, and dated marriage license. Ava tightened her hold on his shoulders. Logan felt the bite of her nails as they sank into his muscles. It hurt so good, he had to rein in his own guttural sound.

  With a remorseful groan, Ava sighed. “No...again.”

  “Why not?” That little black hole in his psyche was ravenous to keep her. He wouldn’t lose his woman...ever again.

  Damn that Brooke Tyler. She’d done this to him, unearthed this weakness, and he would forever resent her for it. Her betrayal ruined his then plans, though he hated to admit it. He shook off the darkness. This time, this woman, would be different.

  “I have to be in uniform and ready for inspection in an hour.” She trailed a slender finger over his mouth and then slipped the lone digit inside. “Don't start anything you can't finish.”

  “For you, sweetheart, I’m always mission ready.”

  Ava pushed at his chest. “More like anything-but-missionary position ready,” she laughed.

  “There’s benefits to creativity,” he countered.

  “You are that,” she cooed, “and pathologically impatient.”

  “A six-month deployment is a long damn time, Ava mine.” Logan had conveyed the total crap storm his life had dissolved into during her absence.

  She reared back, giving him a twisted smirk. “Says the man who surprised in Singapore.”

  “Hey. Let’s celebrate I made ninety-days without you in my bed.” It was one of the reasons he’d campaigned harder than a Democrat in small town America for them to live under one roof prior to their wedding. A decision Ava’s family took exception with.

  “True,” she sighed, “but, I’ve only been home a month. Maybe postponing the ceremony till the end of the year,” she said, giving him a devious grin.

  “No.” Logan rolled onto his back, taking her with him. “I’m a Masters man. We don’t wait.”

  Ava gave a throaty laugh. “Tell me something I don’t already know about the men and women in your family.”

  “Four months,” he reared up, placing a kiss to her nose, “and you will be Mrs. Logan Masters. It’s all planned.”

  With Ava sprawled across his half-naked torso, he was careful with his next question considering his vital organs were exposed.

  “Since you mentioned it. You’re ready about tonight? The cameras. The reporters.” He felt her muscles tighten as her spine straightened. When they met five years ago, with reluctance Ava had entered his world of ballroom galas, fundraisers, and country club soirees. She would adjust to this life, eventually.

  “Are you ready for today’s job interview, doctor?”

  “The chief of surgery position is mine,” he grinned, unconcerned with his so-called competition. As the eldest of two sons, Logan had been groomed to lead. Winning, that’s where he excelled. The only thing that frightened him more than losing was the woman beside him. Ava meant everything to him. He didn’t like disappointing her. So, she didn’t need to know about the interview he had lined up later today. It was all a part of secu
ring their position in the Shell Cove power circles. He would conquer the world to place it at her feet.

  “Wow. I’ll have to custom-design your golf cap to fit that big head of yours.”

  “You’re changing the subject, Ava mine.”

  “A small wedding with the two of us, friends and family would’ve worked for me.”

  “If you wanted small,” he said pumping his hips, “you chose the wrong man.”

  “I’m serious, babe.”

  Ava’s voice trailed off and he recognized to ease her concerns about tonight, he needed a better distraction.

  Logan stroked one finger down her cheek. “You’re worried something will go wrong,” he whispered, “but I have you.” Silence spread giving his vow the time needed to penetrate and soothe her fears. He didn’t promise perfection, but he could guarantee his protection.

  A furrow formed between her brows before she hit him with a sexy glower. And just like that, the weighted moment passed.

  “With good reason. Your mother did invite my ex to our last engagement party.”

  “It wasn’t a total loss.” The man had hurt Ava. He deserved punishment. Exacting Ava’s retribution had given Logan a deep satisfaction.

  “Punching Marcus in the face was a win?”

  She angled her head regarding him. Wide eyes waited for a reasonable explanation. There wasn’t one Logan could provide. He gave a wry grin. “In my book.”

  Why did men behave as fools for women? In Logan’s case, it terrified him that he could never live a truly happy life without her.

  Ava’s voice rose an octave. “Oh my Todd,” she railed.

  His woman refused to toss around her religion, so Logan had made the adjustment to, oh my Todd instead of my God during their first month together.

  “No need to swear, sweetheart. Tonight, will not be a repeat fiasco.”

  “My hero,” she whispered.

  “Have I ever failed you?” The duality of the statement didn’t escape Logan. It was his sincerest truth and his biggest fear.

  “Never,” she laughed, dropping a kiss to his lips.