Absolute Zero (59 page)

2 Years Later

Her eyes scanned each image illuminated by the light panel on the wall behind her desk, before the sound of her office door clicking shut caused her head to turn.

As soon as she saw him, she turned back to the images, a small smile playing on her lips as her gaze lifted to the ceiling.

“You can’t just barge in here any time you want, you know. How did you know I’m not with a patient?” she tried to school her voice into something resembling admonishment even though her stomach fluttered at the mere sight of him.

“I took my chances,” he responded lightly.

“Don’t you have meetings today?” she asked as she felt his arms encircle her from behind.

“Aye. It’s lunch time, though. I came to take my wife to lunch,” he stated before settling a lingering kiss to her temple.

“I have an appointment in a half hour.”

“Cancel it?” he responded before moving his lips to her neck.

“No way. It’s the final consult before surgery tomorrow. I’ll have to pass. Maybe tomorrow?”

“How about tonight? I’ll take you to…”

“Ahh…yeah, about tonight…” she interrupted him, turning her body to face him.

“What?”

“Your Mom and Aidan are coming for dinner. Lena might come too…”

His face immediately changed from a sweet expression to one of complete annoyance.

“Naw, aww…Anne!” he blew out a breath before his eyes flared.

“Well…they just got back from their honeymoon and they want to show us the pictures and Lena…she just likes my cooking,” she offered up a feeble argument that did nothing to appease him or at least wipe the expression from his face.

“Why can’t ya just cook fish sticks and that cheesy macaroni garbage that Shay cooks? Maybe if ya didnae cook well, they’d leave us alone.”

“Can you live on fish sticks and cheesy macaroni garbage?” she asked with a smirk.

“Aye! Every day for the rest of my life if it means I get to have you to myself. Geez…” he scoffed as he shook his head.

“You have me all to yourself next weekend.” She stated. She kept the fact that Shay and Irene would be visiting the weekend after that to herself.

“Are ya sure? Ya dinnae invite anyone else?” he asked sarcastically.

“It’s our anniversary. Why would I do that?” she asked with feigned innocence.

“Is this the same girl who went out of her way to avoid people? Where’d that lass go? I think I miss her…”

“Is this the same guy that yapped about a new lease on life, making amends, being a better person, life is precious, blah, blah, blah?” she countered.

“I dunno who that guy is. Sounds like a complete twat,” he answered seriously as his hand snaked around her neck and pulled her toward him.

“Don’t even think about it,” she shot him a warning glare.

“Think about what? What am I thinking about, love?” he asked as one side of his mouth turned up in a devilish grin.

“Some people have to work,” she whispered as his head descended slowly towards hers.

“I have a half hour,” he whispered back as his eyes devoured hers. ‘Some people shouldn’t wear sexy skirts and make other people fantasize about them all morning. Some people are so rude,” he stated softly against her lips.

“Some people…” she started before his lips captured hers, making her forget everything but the incredibly talented mouth that slanted across hers, taking her breath away.

              You know you’re on to something as an author when every other song you hear on the radio reminds you of your two characters. I felt this way about this book. In fact, I was going to title it “Black Swan” because of a Thom Yorke song that really struck me but the title just didn’t suit. The song does, though. Actually, about half the songs on my I-pod reminded me of this story, these characters.

This was supposed to be a zombie book, or at least that’s what I thought when I sat down to start writing this. I was inspired by the fairgrounds at the end of the road I live on – a huge fenced in land that only sees action once a year during the week-long fair in the town I live in. I drive by it every night and my overactive imagination conjured up creatures that live within the confines of the chain link fence. I couldn’t do it. I have a thing for zombie books but I just couldn’t flesh it out and to be honest – every scenario I came up with just didn’t seem believable as to why they existed. That’s funny – me wanting a believable explanation for zombies.

I let my writing take me in a different direction. I did take inspiration from a large house situated on the ridge behind our house and the sharp curve in the road I live in – there’s no quarry there, but they are very numerous in this area. My original characters also received an overhaul.  Anne was supposed to be dry and quiet. Ian was supposed to be domineering and serious but as you can see, I just could
not
keep the snark from their dialogue. My husband is quite possibly the only person I know who is more sarcastic than I am and I think our conversations tend to color my writing.

This book did a number on me for some reason, causing me to gain 11 pounds (yeah, I blame the book. It had nothing to do with eating ice cream every night), sometimes throwing me into a fit of depression, most of the time infiltrating my brain during work meetings and conference calls which is typical but not nearly as intense as it was during the writing of this particular book.

I hope it kept you interested. I read every review I get and I take all criticism to heart. Not emotionally, but practically. Hopefully I gave you something that kept you reading. I even wrote out my love scenes which is
awkward
for me, but I gave it a shot…

It’s long. Another marathon read, I know. I also know I could have split it up into two or three books and I debated that but decided that as a reader - I hate having to buy multiple books to get to an HEA. I see that in some reviews, comments about the length of my books – particularly the latest releases. I have this thing about developing my characters. I want you to care about them so I have to get you inside their heads, which can take a while. (I think I may be a little in love with Ian – don’t tell my husband.)

I have a couple people I want to acknowledge. I tried something new – a read and review program and I made a couple of friends. I am sending this book to them to beta read for me. They are very encouraging and they get me and my strange sense of humor. I also want to acknowledge my fellow Gettysburg Writer’s Brigade buddies for sharing their insight on writing and publishing. What a fun group that is and I’m so glad I met them.

I also want to thank anyone that takes the time after reading to actually give me some feedback through reviews. Like I said earlier, I love reading them – even the critical ones. I have a very small but loyal group that gives me wonderful feedback and maybe they don’t realize it, but they make my little heart swell with happiness when they tell me they love my writing. It keeps me going.

Next book? Back to Detroit. Back to the silly. I have to shake my ‘book funk’ and the best way to do that is to write what I think I write best…

About the Author

Anlyn Hansell is a pen name for a 40-something year old lady that resides in a small town in South Central PA. She is married and has a very quirky and adorable daughter.

I began writing because I was reading, or should I say,
devouring
books at a record pace a few years ago. I read everything I could get my hands on; looking for an author that spoke to me and characters I wanted to root for. When I ran out of Jennifer Crusie novels, I found myself bummed out. I found the market flooded with novels about weak, self-conscious women being pursued by crazy, domineering men who I would rather punch in the face than make out with.

So I began to write.

Pure romantic type stuff at first, but I’ve branched out to more mystery and paranormal lately. It is truly my intention to write the type of book you cannot put down.

Drop me a line on Facebook or post a review. I have to be honest with you. I love reading the reviews on Amazon – especially the scathing ones! Some of the review writers are much more witty than the authors themselves. Sometimes, I spend an entire evening reading reviews instead of buying a book; they are
that
entertaining.

Thanks for taking a chance on an indie author. I hope you enjoyed what I wrote. I have many other stories and characters in my head that are all begging to be written.

Romantic Comedy

Davis Series:

The Trouble with Neighbors

Forget about Texas

Love, Business and Bad Ethics

Crazy about Her

Paranormal/Horror/Comedy/Romance:

Night Stocker, The Misadventures of Meghan Foster Part One

Dead End Girl, The Misadventures of Meghan Foster Part Two

Romantic Suspense:

There Goes the Neighborhood

Don’t Forget to Remember…to Forget

This Guy Kills Me

Absolute Zero

Village Idiots – Summer 2016

“Take your hat off, Andie,” Ash stated, swatting her arm as soon as they walked in the front door. She reached out with her other hand to snatch the bill.

Andie immediately lifted her hand to her Detroit Tigers cap and shook her head no.

“It’s a
club
, it’s not church,” Andie jerked her head away from Ash’s hand as she shot her an irritated glare.

“Do you see anyone else with a baseball cap on in here? Even the men don’t wear them…”

“Good, I’ll stand out,” she replied sarcastically before giving a firm smack to Ash’s offending hand.

“She wants to look like a Ninja, let her look like a Ninja,” Candy stated, taking in Andie’s attire of tight, dark jeans, navy t-shirt and black boots.

“I was thinking SWAT team,” Liv piped up causing an exaggerated eye roll from Andie as she stepped away.

She cast a dissecting glare over her roommates’ attire of short, tight skirts, heels and barely-there shirts. Standard fare for the club, but still ridiculous considering they were making fun of
her
.

“I’m gonna go find a TV; you go hang out with the rest of the Cirque De Soleil rejects. I shall embarrass you no further,” she waved them off as her eyes scanned and locked on a large TV screen near the side of the huge U-shaped bar in the corner.  Whatever they were saying was completely lost on her as her feet carried her toward the screen. As luck would have it, the Tigers game was still on meaning they were surely in extra innings, meaning she could still watch the rest of it, much to her delight.

At least
one
thing worked in her favor. It was bad enough that she could still smell the slightest tang of motor oil on her skin, although Liv attacked her with a bottle of Febreze as soon as she reluctantly walked back into the Living Room, showered and dressed.

See? I can’t go out. The game’s on, plus I can’t get this stench off me
… she had said to no avail.

Between your outfit and your smell, it’s like man repellant. This is perfect for you. You can catch the next game, it’s not like they don’t play every other day
… Liv had said right before the three of them converged upon her with Ash’s woe-is-me story, Liv’s snarky comments and Candy’s guilt-trip turned promise of an ass whooping if she didn’t ‘get over’ herself.

Whatever. She was here, the music was fairly good, the game was still on and best of all, there was a vacant seat right in front of the screen behind the bar. She immediately walked to it and plunked herself down between two couples in deep conversation.

“Hey, Andie,” she could hear a female voice, but her eyes were glued to the screen. The Tigers were at bat.

“Hey, Jackie,” she mumbled absently.

“You wanna a beer?”

“Nah. Give me a Diet whatever,” she stated without looking at the bartender.

“DD tonight?”

“Mmm hmm,” she responded, her fists clenching then relaxing as the Orioles pitcher threw a pitch so far outside the strike zone it made her smile. The batter jogged to first base.

A moment later, a large glass appeared in front of her, yet her eyes never left the screen as she blindly felt for the straw with her open mouth. Izzy Sambrosa was at bat and her face fell at the sight. Two outs, one man on base, and the player in the biggest hitting slump was waiting for his first pitch.

She bit her lip, willing him with her mind to do something spectacular. As soon as the bat made contact a loud “
YES!
” escaped her mouth only to turn into a drawn out “
NOOO
,” as soon as the centerfielder ran and caught it. A loud grunt of disgusted disapproval came from her throat. She looked down to the bar surface and back up, suddenly feeling conscious of the eyes on either side of her turned in her general direction.

“What?” she asked without looking at them. She shrugged them off and promptly ignored their attention as the teams switched places on the field.
Heathens
. How could anyone
not
be watching this? Seriously, every person seated at the bar was so engrossed in talking to the person next to them, she noticed as she gave a quick scan of her surroundings. Even the men – of course the women in this place all seemed to be in some silent competition to either wear the least amount of clothing or the tightest, so in a way, she understood.
Boobs versus baseball
. In a club like this, boobs win.

Speaking of boobs…

She could feel the convergence before they actually said anything, Maybe they shared some sort of mental connection from living together or maybe it was because they were loud and obnoxiously boisterous as they surrounded her.

“Can you watch my purse?” she heard before Ash’s giant bag appeared and overtook her vision. “Mine too,” she heard Liv state as her much smaller, ergonomically correct purse swung on the bar surface. At least Candy didn’t have one to dump on her. Actually, none of them needed a purse. Buying drinks was never an issue and the need for ID was non-existent since they knew pretty much all of the bouncers and bartenders on this particular strip.

“I’m not your pack mule,” she grumbled as Liv gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek and patted her cap covered head. “We’re dancing,” Liv stated the obvious as Andie hooked Ash’s bag under the bar.
What on earth does she carry in this thing?
No wonder Ash was so toned; her bag weighed ten pounds easy.

Liv’s smaller, lighter bag was hooked on the back of Andie’s stool as she was left alone once again.

Her beloved Tigers were positioned on the field after a brief round of commercials and she settled her body more firmly into the stool. The first pitch was a joke. The second wasn’t much better and the third ball thrown caused a forced “Come
ON
,” to escape her mouth. The couple to her right stood up and disappeared from her peripheral vision. Her fists clenched as the fourth pitch was thrown and a groan emanated from her lips as the batter threw the bat to the side and ran toward first base.

“It’s OK. Come on. You can
do
this,” she mumbled to the screen, her eyes locked on the pitcher.

“His arm’s tired,” she could hear a deep male voice right before a body seated itself next to her in the recently vacated stool.

“No, it’s not,” she stated without looking at him. A half full pint of beer thumped on the bar in front of him but her eyes never wavered from the TV.

“Yes, it is. They should pull Martinez from the pen. He’s done,” she could hear.

“No, he’s not,” she answered with a twinge of doubt. “Think positive thoughts,” she stated to the TV screen. “Positive thoughts,” she added under her breath.

Ball one.

“See? We’re screwed. Perez is hitting .323 right now,” the annoyingly cocky voice next to her sounded.

The next pitch was clearly a strike causing a small ‘Ha’ to burst from her for the benefit of her unwanted companion. Her eyes were kept glued to the screen.

The next pitch resulted in a foul ball.

“One more,” she mouthed to the screen, quickly forgetting Mr. ‘Doom and Gloom’ next to her.

The next pitch was met with a distinct crack of the bat. The line drive shot over the pitcher’s head and bounced several times into the outfield before it was scooped up but it was too late.  Two men on base and her heart was sinking.

“Told you,” she heard before an unflattering sound rumbled out from between her closed lips.

Go away
, she mentally commanded him.

Another Orioles batter stepped up to the plate and his stats on the screen caused her already frayed nerves to flare.

“I hate to say it, but he should walk this dude. Simon’s up next. He sucks,” the male voice offered to her disinterested ears.

He was probably right, but she certainly wouldn’t respond.

She crossed her fingers without thinking, willing the Tigers’ pitcher to throw something brilliant.

First pitch, not so brilliant. The hit would have been a homerun if it didn’t land in the stands just a few feet from the foul line.

It was obviously not an intentional ball.

“Dude is six for six tonight. He’s on fire. We’re screwed.”

“Oh my god, would you shut up!” she grated before squeezing her eyes shut.

“Why don’t you relax? I’m just stating the obvious,” he replied casually.

“Why don’t you move to Baltimore?” she blurted, instantly regretting how immature that sounded.

“Why would I move to Baltimore?”

“Because you’re obviously an Orioles fan. Or maybe you could move to the other side of the bar? That would be a start,” she added in a low mumble that he obviously heard based on the laugh that just sounded next to her.

“Why would I want to do that? I wouldn’t be able to see the TV
and
I’d miss out on your charming company,” he stated in a flippant tone.

She ignored his obvious jab and silently waved him off with her wrist as she watched the screen intently. The wind up, the pitch and ultimately the crack that sent the ball sailing high over the infield, the outfield, and into the stands. Her forehead thumped lightly in the bar surface. It was over. The ten game winning streak was over. Disappointment coursed through her before another feeling overtook her body. He was patting her on the back.

“It’s Ok, they’re still in first place, the Royals lost tonight too,” he offered up.

“Don’t touch me,” she ordered before straightening up and turning toward him. He was big. She could almost tell that from his crowding presence next to her. He was tall, broad shouldered, scruffy dark hair in need of a cut and his beard. Holy hell.

She was sitting next to Grizzly Adams.

His hand dropped and his eyes crinkled at her. Maybe he was smiling. It was hard to tell through all that…hair.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“What does it matter?” she replied instantly.

“Hey, don’t take it out on me. I didn’t throw that pitch,” he remarked before taking a sip from the pint in front of him. Foam remained embedded on the pelt guarding his upper lip when he placed the glass back on the bar surface.

“You have…ah, stuff…” she waved her hand in front of her own mouth indicating the residue.

“Oh! Yeah. The dangers of facial hair,” he commented wryly before wiping the foam with the back of his hand and rubbing it on his jeans.

Yuck
.

“I’ll buy you a drink. That should put you in a better mood, huh?” He rested one arm on the bar surface. One corded arm that would probably make any woman salivate until their eyes wandered up and they realized it was attached to Bigfoot.

“No. I’m good,” she replied immediately. “In fact, I’ll just go and find my friends, Thanks for the commentary…” she trailed off as her body slid from the stool, her feet finding purchase on the ground below. She started to turn.

“Wait.”

His big hand encircled her forearm and the pressure was light but her body reacted as if he were clenching too tightly. Her spine stiffened immediately.

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

“I know. I’m mysterious like that. Could you, um, let me go?” she asked as politely as possible as her own fingers extricated her arm from his grip.

“Oh! Sorry,” he stated as he released her much to her relief. She gave a nervous half smile before turning then remembering the purse slung over the backrest of the stool. Grabbing it, she registered that he was saying something else but by then she had already walked a few steps and the urge to turn around and ask him what he said was nonexistent.

She kept walking, her eyes scanning and immediately identifying Liv’s massive shock of hair in the middle of the sunken dance floor. As usual, her friends were surrounded by men and women, most she could identify, and a few newcomers that were sucked in to their orbit.

It was always like this. They were the quintessential party girls of the Metro Detroit area, and while that might not seem like much of an accomplishment to most responsible adults, it certainly was to
this
group of twenty-somethings. The thumping beat was morphing into another beat of a different song as she weaved her body through the crowd, acknowledging a few greetings from some of the bar patrons as she stepped down onto the massive dance floor. Whatever it was, it seemed to please Candy immensely as she bellowed out the fact that this was indeed ‘her jam’ and by golly, she was right. Some techno version of a Public Enemy song became identifiable and if anything could make a person forget that a ten game winning streak just ended abruptly, it was a techno version of a Public Enemy song.

Her body moved with the throng as she danced her way to the center of the floor, swallowed up by the mass of people surrounding her roommates. Candy was demonstrating some of her signature moves to the crowd’s obvious delight. A rather decent looking guy decked out in an expensive suit stepped into her ‘space’ before he was abruptly pulled back by another man she recognized. He gave a firm shake of his head indicating she was off limits and he was correct. Everyone knows that if you touch Candy, and Candy doesn’t know you, your ass will be on the receiving end of a painful beat down. Candy might be a stripper, but she also doubles as her own bouncer.