Tuesday Tales - Picture Prompt - More of "Renovating the Billionaire."

Welcome to Tuesday Tales! Another bit from "Renovating the Billionaire" this week with a picture prompt. And I can only have 300 words! 

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Walking along Sunset Lane, Jess passed Chip Matthews farm. A whinny drew her attention to a field. A colt nuzzled it’s mother, who nickered in response to her foals shenanigans, the young horse tossed his mane and kicked up his back legs before taking off to run.

Jess loved horses. She leaned against the fence to watch. The young animal reminded her of the one her mother had given her for her birthday. He’d been from Chip’s farm, too. The Matthews had given it to Jess’s mom because their son was sweet on Jess.

Jess had named him “Lucky”, ‘cause she figured she was darn lucky to get him. Then her father intervened.

“We ain’t got no money to feed a horse. Shit. We barely got enough to feed you and Will. I’m takin’ him back.”

Jess has begged, cried, pleaded with her father, but he wouldn’t budge. She’d even hung on his arm, digging her heels into the soft earth to stop him. But nothing had worked. James returned the horse to Chip and his parents. Looking back, she realized that her father had been right. Maybe if he hadn’t been drunk, had been gentler in the way he’d done it, she wouldn’t have hated him.

When Jess turned nineteen, the age she’d hoped to become Chip’s bride, his parents put a stop to her romance. Seems as if the Matthews’ family was too good to be joined with the family of a husband-killer and now jailbird.

Obviously curious, the foal stopped at the fence and stared at her. Jess reached out to pet his muzzle, but he shied away. She looked up see Chip in the doorway of the barn. He stared back, not moving. Jess turned away, heading for home. 

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TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "MAD" #romance #smalltownromance #lovestory

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. This week's word prompt is "mad." Join me for another sneak peek into "Renovating the Billionaire."

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Dressed in a three-piece suit, Stryker Alexander West stood outside the main room in the Pine Grove town hall building. As Jess approached the doorway, he blocked it. Raising a powerful arm across the empty space he grinned at her. But his smile didn’t make it to the ice blue eyes staring at her.

“Listen, sweetheart, blocking the destruction of that old pile of junk isn’t a good idea.”

Bristling, she pushed past him, shoving him out of the way.

“Really, honey. Do the smart thing. Give me the demolition permit.

She turned, fire spitting from her eyes. “I’m not your sweetheart. I’m not your honey. And I don’t give a damn how many people bow to your money and power. I’ll never, and I mean never, change my mind. I’ll never sign a permit for you to destroy that charming piece of history. So get over yourself and get out of my way.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, a mocking smirk slapped across his face. He grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “If someone gets hurt in that old place. I won’t be responsible. It needs to come down before something bad happens.”

He stood so close to her, she could smell his spicy aftershave and feel the warmth of his breath. What was she doing, noticing his broad shoulders and perfectly shaped scruff? The man was a menace, a power-hungry monster with no taste and no regard for history or beauty. Still, there was something about him, drawing her. She raised her gaze to his.

“Is there something about the word ‘never’ you don’t understand? Now move your sorry ass before I call the police.”

He jumped to the side with a slight bow to let her pass.

“This isn’t over, blondie. Not by a longshot.”

Every curse word she knew sounded in her head, but she kept walking. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Angry? An understatement. Madder than she’d ever been, she couldn’t figure out if her temper a reaction to his uncouth ways or her body’s betrayal.   

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TUEDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BRIDGE" - MORE OF "RENOVATING THE BILLIONAIRE"

Welcome to Tuesday Tales. This week, the word prompt is "bridge." I'm coninuing my story, "Renovating the Billionaire." Here's a taste. Scroll down to return to Tuesday Tales and the fine works you'll find there. Thanks for stopping by.

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Outside the Cozy Diner, Jess stood, half-hidden by an oak tree. A fancy car stopped just before the bridge over Cattail Creek. A man got out of the front seat and opened the door for the man in the back. What’s the matter? Doesn’t he have hands? Can’t open his own door?

The tall, dark-haired man strolled to the center of the bridge, leaving his car blocking traffic. Jess chided herself. There was no traffic at seven a.m. on a Tuesday. As she watched him, the corners of her mouth turned down.

Mr. Fancy Pants. Thinks he owns the town. Thinks he’ll tear down that house. Well, he’s got another think coming. She kept her gaze on him, tall and striking looking. Just the way he walked, almost like a swagger, exuded power. She guessed he had confidence to burn.

Checking her watch, she noted she was five minutes late, but couldn’t take her eyes off the man on the bridge. Even though he was wearing sunglasses, he shaded his eyes with his hand as he looked across at the old, dilapidated house. Pompous. In love with himself.

Put-down after put-down came to mind, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She had pies to deliver. Can’t be wastin’ time gawking at the fancy man here to destroy my dream. Maybe he’ll fall in the lake. She grinned at the image of the big city man, soaking wet, his perfectly-tailored suit, ruined and clinging to him. Water dripping down his face into his scruff.

The picture of Mr. Big Shot, rumpled, wet, and disconcerted started a sensation in a place she didn’t expect. Yep. The one word she didn’t want to admit when conjuring up the image of him wading out of the lake was, "sexy." Damn sexy.

She shook her head to clear her mind, then turned away. She started up her old rust bucket just as he returned to the backseat of his car. Jess set her lips in a firm line and steered her car to Maple Street for her next delivery. The sooner Mr. Big Bucks left town, the better.

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