Unlucky In Love (8 page)

I pulled off Angela’s shoes and tossed them
next to the door so I’d remember to take them back to her. I
certainly wouldn’t be needing them anytime soon. Next, I dropped my
keys and purse on the credenza.

At least
I had my car.
I hadn’t had to use Uber. Which also meant that I hadn’t even
gotten the gift of a drink on Valentine’s Day.

I pulled a wine glass off the rack and
filled it higher than usual with Merlot.

J’Austen finally showed up to greet me. She
must have been sleeping with Eric.

I kneeled down to give her a scratch. “Hey,
baby.”

She blinked in
response,
as if asking,
Where have you been?

“You in the mood to hear about tonight’s
adventure?”

J’Austen strolled toward the lanai, so I
took that as a yes.

After I
sat
down on the
swing, she jumped up beside me. I reached for my computer, deciding
I’d start working on tomorrow’s
post
since I
knew she really didn’t care to hear me complain. I’d already
written up the review; I just needed to copy and paste, and add
links to purchase the book at Amazon.

I opened a new Word doc, just to collect all
the info, but then hesitated on the keys as I looked down at
J’Austen.

“The thing is …” I said aloud, not really
concerned if she wanted to hear about my night or not. I suddenly
understood why Tom Hanks had started talking to
Wilson
.
Living without a partner after fifteen years could drive you crazy.
Then again, Dick hadn’t been that great of a listener. Even if
J’Austen wasn’t the best listener, at
least
she allowed me to talk out my thoughts.

“The guy at the bar didn’t have to be an
asshole,” I said. “I would have danced with him after I had a few
sips of water. Heck, I would have danced with anyone who’d asked.
I’d always been like that. Well, maybe not
Media Man
. No
sense in leading on a potential stalker.”

Sighing loudly, I stopped trying to explain
what I was thinking and started typing.

He should have
… I smiled as a
thought occurred to me. I didn’t need anyone to listen. I could
write down my thoughts, like I did when I was a child. Journaling
had been almost as great as an escape as reading had been.

As soon as she sat down at the one empty
seat at the bar, Jana felt a tap on her shoulder. She swiveled
around on the barstool, hoping the tap had come from the tall
bronzed cowboy she’d caught eyeing her on the dance floor.

“
Evenin’, Ma’am. I was wondering if you’d
save the next dance for me?”

Jana smiled at the sweet country drawl and
the way the man had dipped his head to ask her. “Oh, thank you. I
just danced to three songs in a row, though, and I’m really
thirsty.”

“
Understood,” the handsome cowboy said.
“You were something else out there. Wish I’d had the nerve to come
dance with you. Be okay if I buy you a drink instead?”

Jana smiled. “Thanks. Just water would be
great, though.”

He winked. “Water, it is. Bartender, would
ya fetch this lovely lady a bottle of your best water?”

Jana couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks
again.”

“
My pleasure, Ma’am. Name’s Seth. After
you cool down, would you do me the honor?”

“
Definitely.”

I smiled as I thought about Seth as the
southern gentleman. Well, he didn’t have an accent, but he’d been
nothing but kind the last few times I’d met him at the library. He
hadn’t suggested we go back to his place for a romp in the hay.
Hadn’t talked about insects and rodents. And he definitely hadn’t
shouted out in the library that I was some “ho” who charged men for
a dance.

Seriously, it wasn’t that hard. Why couldn’t
men just behave?

I thought back on my words …
It wasn’t
that hard
. To
write
the perfect man, that is. Well, not
the perfect man. That wouldn’t be any fun to read. But … what if I
could write my own frogs into princes?

Why not? I’d led a pretty interesting
childhood. I’d dated enough losers before I’d dated Dick, and then
I knew what it was like to be jilted.

I’d loved my Com II class in college. I’d
even written a story that the professor had said held promise.

That was it! I could start writing. Of
course, I’d still read and keep the blog going, as I was doing
rather well with my affiliate earnings. But what if I could start
publishing books? I didn’t have time to find a publisher — I needed
money soon — but I could self-publish them. Mak could give me some
tips. Angela would make sure that they were properly edited.

I opened a new document and just started
jotting down ideas for my characters. My male and female
protagonists anyway. The rest would come as needed. I thought of my
mother and how she’d ended up, and my father’s life, pulling pieces
from each as I came up with an idea for a story line.

Hours later I looked up and noticed it was
four a.m. I’d been writing all night. I glanced at the word count,
surprised to see that I’d written more than ten thousand words in
one night.

No sense going to bed now, but I closed the
file, deciding I needed to clean up, which would also wake me up so
I could get on with my daily tasks. If I laid down for even a few
minutes, I might not be able to get back up.

Standing in the shower, I closed my eyes and
let the hot water run over my head.

The words I’d just written, the characters
I’d created, and the world I’d just designed bounced around in my
head. It was as though the characters were talking to me, telling
me where their characters should go, how they should grow, what
they should become.

I chuckled to myself. “Okay, I obviously
hallucinate when I haven’t had enough sleep.”

But enjoying the visions, I closed my eyes
again and continued to stand under the rushing spray of water.
Delirious or not, I liked this. I imagined the next scene.
Envisioned the male protagonist chasing the female protagonist,
begging her to let him explain. The scene was so real that I
couldn’t help but smile.

As soon as I got out of the shower, I opened
the notepad on my iPhone and jotted down notes for the next scene.
In my closet, as I pulled down a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, I
thought about how the chapter should end.

In the kitchen, I stood in front of the
coffee pot, waiting for it to finish brewing, but I didn’t see the
coffee stream; I saw my characters, and the hotel bar where they’d
meet up with the man she’d owed money to.

“Mom?”

I jumped, of course. “Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for the coffee to brew.”

Eric walked over to the machine. “It helps
if you turn it on.”

“Oh …”

“We’re gonna be late. Can we just pick up
something at McDonald’s?”

I hadn’t splurged in a while, and I used to
enjoy our drive-thru stops in the morning. “Sure.”

I threw Eric the keys. “You definitely have
to drive. I didn’t get much sleep.”

“You gonna be okay driving home, then?”

I smiled at my son who’d suddenly become my
protector. “Yeah. The coffee will help.”

Eric pulled the shifter into drive, then
turned to me. “What time did you get home?”

I yawned. “Not too late. It was only around
eleven, but then I’d worked on my computer until four.”

I didn’t dare tell Eric about my idea to
write a book. Not yet. Nor would I tell Angela, simply because
she’d want to know everything before I was finished.

This was something I planned to do on my
own. I’d seek help once I finished.

As I sat outside the school, waiting for
Eric to finish rehearsals, I typed furiously on my laptop.

The words had been coming at me with a
vengeance
as if they’d been waiting for me to
hear them.
It had
only been a few weeks, and I
was already at sixty thousand words, and I had so many chapters
left to go. This was easily going to be a hundred-thousand-word
romantic-suspense novel.

Other than driving Eric back and forth to
school and cooking and sleeping, I hadn’t stopped. Even my review
website had succumbed to me posting reviews of books I’d read years
ago.

I simply had to get the words out of my head
and into the computer. I now understood why authors said that they
had to write to quiet the voices in their heads. Even while I was
trying to finish my current story, a million other ideas kept
barraging my brain. Breaking my no-extra-expenses rule, I finally
just downloaded a writing app on my phone and made folders for each
of the ideas that I came up with, knowing that when I finished this
story, I’d jump right into the next. I was hooked! But right now I
was having fun writing a
romantic-suspense
novel featuring Seth and me. I would change the names afterward,
but right now it was fun picturing myself in the story.

“
There he is!” Jana shouted as her ex
took the corner too fast, nearly coming up on two wheels. “He
caught up with us.”

Seth slammed his foot down hard on the
accelerator, and the Mustang screamed forward, sending a cloud of
dust up into the air behind them. Jana whipped her head around, but
kept low, hoping if her ex-husband was true to his word and started
firing rounds that the trunk and two seat cushions might stop a
bullet from penetrating her
skull
.

She had to take the money, though, it was
the only way that she and Seth could escape.
At least
she knew he wouldn’t report the money
stolen. After all, how would he explain having half a million
dollars in the
house?

Jana ducked as the rear window exploded into
a million pieces, but Seth didn’t even flinch.

“
Hold on, baby,” was all Seth said as he
jerked the wheel to the left, threading the Mustang between a semi
and SUV as he turned onto a side street.

Jana held onto ‘OSH’ handle above the
door,
but still craned her head
to see her ex-husband’s truck get crammed by the SUV. She wasn’t
sure if she was happy that the semi had missed him or not.

“
You did it, baby!” she screeched as soon
as Seth sped up the on-ramp for the highway. She threw herself
across the seat, nearly sitting on the center console. Who ever
thought center consoles were a good idea?

Seth turned his head so he could kiss her,
but kept his eyes on the road.

Jana grabbed his face and locked her lips
with his, loving the way he tasted. Like power and sexuality, and
yet romantic and faithful. She pulled back after a couple of
seconds. “How soon until we reach the border?”

“
A few hours …”

“
I can’t wait that long.” She crawled
over the console and straddled him —

“Jana?”

Not only had I jumped at the sound of my
name, but I also lifted my computer in front of my face as if
someone who knew me might want to kill me. Okay, maybe I’d
researched a little too many murders for my story.

Lowering my computer, I peeked out the
window to see Seth standing beside the door. “Oh,
hey
, Seth!” I said, finally dropping the computer in my
lap again.

Two creases appeared between his eyebrows as
he laughed. “Do people sneak up on you a lot?”

I shook my head as I chuckled nervously.
“Seriously, you’d think so, huh? I don’t know why I’m so
jumpy.”

Seth leaned on the window frame and nodded
toward the laptop. “Maybe it’s what you’re writing. That looks like
a pretty intense scene.”

“Oh!” I slammed down the lid and glared at
him. “You’re not supposed to spy on people.”

He flashed a bright white smile. “Sorry. You
were just so absorbed … I was curious.” He frowned. “How come you
didn’t tell me you were a writer?”

I rubbed my hands over my eyes, surprised
that he hadn’t asked me why I had used his name for my male
protagonist. “I’m not a writer. I mean … I’ve never written
anything before. I’m just … rambling.”

“Looks good to me —”

“Hey!” Eric’s voice broke off whatever Seth
was going to say. I looked up to see my son walking toward the
driver’s door of my Tacoma. He lifted his chin at Seth. “What’s
up?”

Seth stepped away from the window. “Not
much, dude. Just talking with your mom.”

I stared up at Seth through the window. “You
two know each other?”

Seth shook his head. “Nah … Guess your son
just wants to know who’s talking to his mom. Can’t say that I blame
him. Maybe I’ll see you at the library tomorrow?”

I nodded, thankful he didn’t mention my
writing. “Sure.” I hadn’t made time for the library, but … since
he’d asked …

Eric threw the shifter into reverse and Seth
hopped further away so Eric wouldn’t run over him.

I waved goodbye, then whipped around to
glare at Eric. “Why
are you being
rude?”

“Who’s that guy? I thought you didn’t have a
date at the library.”

I licked my lips. “Not that I have to
explain myself, but I didn’t have a date at the library. I’ve just
run into Seth a couple of times.”

“Hmm …” was all Eric said as he tore off
down the street. At the first light, he turned to me. “Just be
careful, Mom.”

I resisted rolling my eyes. “Okay, Eric, but
he’s a lawyer. Not many cold-blooded killing lawyers out
there.”

Eric laughed. “Maybe there are … we just
never hear about them because they know how to circumvent the
law.”

I tapped the shoulder of my baby who was no
longer a little boy. “Thank you, Eric. I’m careful, I assure you. I
have no intention of going home with — or bringing home — some
homicidal rapist.”