Blue Read online

  “We need someone to do some light housework and some yard work and some gardenin’ work. Maybe some babysittin’ sometimes. My grandson does most of the heavy stuff, mowin’ the grass and trimmin’, but he don’t do no flowers or the daily gardenin’. He works nights mostly, so’s me ’n my sister takes care of his baby girl when he’s out ’n’t we could use some extra hands.”

  Housework wasn’t a problem, and neither was gardening. I wasn’t too sure about childcare, but beggars can’t be choosers. This sounded like the break I was hoping for, and I needed to jump on this offer quick.

  “No problems with anything. May I come by and look at the room sometime soon?”

  “I gotta man coming later tonight to look, but I’d ruther have a woman here. You got time to come see it now?”

  Her thick southern drawl was hard to understand as she rattled off the address. I managed to get directions and found myself driving to a secluded area in Woodfin, just north of Asheville. Without a GPS, I had to rely on worded directions from the barista and Martha. “Jus’ ’bout a mile past the big crooked tree that overhangs the road, you’ll make a right on the gravel road a’fore you get to the lake,” were apparently acceptable southern guidelines to finding this cheap room.

  Somehow, I managed to locate the place.

  It was perfect! Hidden at the end of the gravel road and surrounded by tall trees was a plain ranch-style house with several storage sheds, a barn, and a two-car garage with the promised room above it. I noticed a chicken coop next to the garage with numerous birds strutting and pecking the ground. Behind the structure was a fairly wide creek that burbled along, probably one of the tributaries of the French Broad River that was fairly close by.

  The woman who answered the door look like a wizened elf. Her body was tiny and wiry, and her face was covered in wrinkles. She wore pink capris and a bright yellow flowery shirt. A wide straw hat with fake daisies on it crowned her head, and gardener’s gloves were on her hands.

  “You th’ woman that called me ’bout the room?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m Lori Matthews. Nice to meet you.” I reached out my hand for her to shake.

  She took one glove off and pumped my hand twice. I was surprised at the strength.

  “Nice ta meetcha too.” She turned and yelled into the interior of the house, “Carol! Tenant’s here! I’m heading over!” She closed the door to the house before the other occupant could answer. “Daylights a’ burnin’. Come on up to th’ garage and see th’ room.”

  She strode off toward the back building. “There’s steps. A mite steep but ain’t too bad. Iffen I can handle ’em, Imma sure you can.”

  There was an outside staircase that was rather steep leading up to the room. The door was unlocked, and Martha simply opened it and tromped inside, her work boots echoing in the space. It was one big room with a queen-sized bed on one side, an old box TV on the other, and an area set out to be a kitchenette. The small bathroom contained a shower stall, sink, and toilet. It was plain, but functional and just what I was looking for.

  “Ain’t much to look at, but it’s clean. Ain’t got no cable TV. Got satellite for the big house and maybe can run you a line out here iffen you want it, but you’ll hafta pay the extra,” Martha informed me as I looked around, walking on the worn 70’s green shag carpet. There was a bit of a musty smell, but nothing I couldn’t stand for a short period of time. The way my life was now, I just needed a place to crash between jobs, not a home. Someday, I hoped I would have a home again.

  “Before you say anythin’ ’bout the room, lemme show you the garden. That’s the main help we need.” She tromped back outside, grunting and leaning heavily on the railing next to the steps. “I don’t get around like I used to, and watching my great-granddaughter takes a mite outta me. My sister’s up at the big house too, but she’s older ’n me. Garden path’s over yonder.” She pointed to a bridge leading across the creek. “You drive an ATV? That’s what it takes to get there now. I used to walk it every day, but my knees is gettin’ bad. Come on.”

  She opened the garage doors, revealing two four-wheelers, one of them with a giant barrow behind it, and a variety of other gardening equipment. She gestured at one and expertly mounted the other. I’d never driven one of these before, but it couldn’t be too hard, right?

  I stalled it twice before I was able to get it going over the bridge. I followed Martha up a well-worn incline path, through a thick tree line to a long open clearing. I was stunned by what met my eyes.

  When she said garden, I was thinking a few plants, bulbs, and flower beds to maintain. This was a field full of rows of vegetables. I saw hills of yellow squash and zucchini, racks of pole bean vines, rows of tomato cages, lines of corn stalks, and other food items I couldn’t identify by sight. It was overwhelming, and I could see why these ladies would be interested in trading help to maintain this monstrosity.

  “Been growing a garden all my life. Puttin’ up beans ’n maters ’n such, selling down ta the farmers’ market over at the college. My last tenant was a man, but he didn’t last too long. Said I done worked him too hard ’n he couldn’t keep up.” She sniffed and peered at me with her piercing eyes. “You think you can? Rent is four hunerd dollars a month, but iffen you’ll help out, say around twenty hours a week, I’ll give you th’ room for half.”

  Two hundred dollar rent just for helping work a garden? I’d be stupid to turn that down. “Yes, ma’am, I can keep up, no problem.”

  Martha grunted. “Got daylight left. Might as well get started. I needs them yella squash plants harvested some. ’Bout done for th’ season. You can take a couple for your supper t’night. Bags are in the back of the ATV. When you got ’em filled, come up to the big house an’ I’ll show you where the root cellar is.”

  She climbed back on the squat vehicle and started the chugging motor. I watched as she left the area without a backward glance.

  I stood for a moment, listening to the fading motor. Just like that, I had a place to live and a job. I turned to the bright green garden and got to work.

  Later that evening, I moved my stuff from my van to my new room. It wasn’t much as I only had minimal clothing and a few odds and ends from my previous life. The tiny kitchenette didn’t have much in the way of cooking implements, but I had a few pots and pans and enough supplies to plainly fry the few squash and zucchini I’d picked up earlier. I added a mental trip to the grocery store sometime tomorrow to get a few more things as cooking would be much cheaper than eating out all the time. Peanut butter was a great traveling food to keep on hand, but there was only so much of it I could stand.

  As I was bringing up the last load, Martha came by with a key.

  “Don’t rightly have a call for such way out here, but I figured you’d want to lock up. Need you to gather the eggs tomorrow morning out at the coop and bring ’em up to the big house. You done good with the squash. Need to get the ’maters tomorrow morning. Might need to thin out the turnips later this week. Taters are almost ready too. My boy’ll get them in with the backhoe soon as th’ tops get browner. See you in the mornin’.”

  The woman turned and went back down the steps, again without looking back. I didn’t know who decided older southern women were supposed to be sweet and demure. Martha was as hard and dry as the gravel in her driveway, and seemed to be just as tough.

  I’d called Constanza Velasquez about doing some house cleaning work for her, and she had responded with an enthusiastic “Yes, when can you start?” I had gardening work in the morning, house cleaning in the afternoon, and whatever else I needed to do at this farm in the evening. With any luck, I could keep that kind of schedule and be able to get my finances back to a healthy place in no time. Then I could get back on the road and keep moving. Just a few more months was all I needed.

  It was deep into the night when I bolted up from the nightmare, gasping and gagging. I threw the worn comforter off my sweaty body, not wanting anything touching me, and jumped out of bed. The
room was dark except for the dim reflection of the outside dusk-to-dawn pole light that lit up the backyard. I heard nothing but the burbling of the river and the night bugs singing a low chorus of buzzes and chirps. My breath slowed as the quiet peace of this place settled around me. I was in an isolated part of an isolated town, on an isolated mountain, living with isolated people. There was safety here.

  A faint throbbing growl from a vehicle caught my attention. As it grew louder and closer, my heart seized at the unexpected sound. No, was my first thought as the panic climbed up my throat. Rushing to the window where I had lowered and shuttered the blinds earlier, I slipped one of the blades up to see what was happening. A dark male figure dressed in black rode a motorcycle into the yard, pulling in next to my van out of sight of the house. Both man and machine were huge and menacing, but I sighed in relief. This had to be Martha’s grandson coming home from his night job, whatever that was. A red convertible Camaro followed him and parked opposite the motorcycle. The biker got off his bike and strode to the blonde woman emerging from the car. I watched as he gestured to my van and pointed to my room, shaking his head. I could faintly hear the woman laughing but didn’t hear her response. I watched as she shimmied back on the hood of her car, pulling her skirt up and spreading her legs wide. The biker took off his helmet, and I saw his head was completely bald, before it disappeared between the woman’s legs. I heard her squeal as she lay back on the hood, one hand balancing on the car and one hand grasping the back of the man’s head as he went down on her. He dropped his helmet in the grass and grabbed her hips, holding her still for his marauding mouth.

  I wanted badly to look away, but I was mesmerized and couldn’t. The sounds of her pleasure were harsh and foreign to my ears. It had been a long time since I had enjoyed sex, a very long time, and I was feeling something I never thought I’d feel again from watching the raw carnality in front of me. My sex pulsed as if waking up from a long sleep.

  The woman keened and grabbed the man by his ears as she came, looking like she would tear them from his head. He pulled her hands off of him and anchored them at her hips, still going at her as she spasmed, her head thrashing against the car’s hood. I held my breath, but it didn’t look like she was fighting. It looked like she was digging in for more and the man was obliging her. She was making a lot of noise, and I glanced at the dark windows of the “big house,” wondering if the elderly women inside would be awakened.

  He finally raised his head and stood back between the woman’s spread legs, opening his jeans and pulling out his cock. He took a few seconds to sheathe himself in a condom before pushing himself into the woman’s body. She gasped and grabbed for him again, but he held her down as he pounded inside her. He was brutal, slamming into her over and over again, and she seemed to relish every moment. She came again, screaming out her pleasure. It looked rough and wild, and I should have been appalled, but I wasn’t.

  The man thrust into the woman one last time as he threw his head back and his low grunts reached my ears. He wasn’t as noisy as the woman, but the way he slumped over her body meant he’d found his satisfaction too. Running her hands over his shining head, she said something to him and they laughed, sharing a moment before he pulled out of her. As he took care of the condom and tucked himself in his jeans, she scooted off the hood of the car and righted her tight skirt. She wrapped her arms around him, and he squeezed her back, giving her a quick peck on top of her blonde head. After a few more minutes of muted conversation, she climbed into her car and left. He stood in the low light watching her leave before turning and entering the house. I noticed he never kissed her on the lips.

  I was wide awake now and buzzing from the show. Part of me was turned on like hell and wanted to do something about it. Another part of me wanted to run, leaving everything I had and just escaping.

  I did neither.

  I climbed back in the bed, and tears gathered in my eyes as I rolled over and curled into myself. Someday soon, I’d be free of my demons—at least I hoped so. I tossed around a while longer and somehow managed to fall asleep.

  Table watched as Lottie drove away. It had been just a few months since he had moved back to the farm, but this was the first night in a long while that he had been able to go out and be an adult. Money was tight and time was tighter, so he would take advantage of any chance he could to get a moment of privacy.

  Work at the tattoo parlor was going well, Martha’s garden was growing huge, and his baby daughter was thriving despite being abandoned by her mother. After Lottie’s headlights disappeared, Table glanced at the dilapidated van parked in the side lot by the garage. Martha had mentioned looking for a tenant and helper for around the farm. He thought the offer was more than generous and hoped this new guy would work out. The last one put the “L” in lazy, and Martha soon outworked him. Table wasn’t thrilled with the idea that some random stranger would be living with his grandmother and her sister, but he knew that anyone who didn’t measure up would soon be out on their ass, and for the time being, he would be there to help enforce Martha’s farm rules.

  He looked briefly at the dark window of the rental room before moving to the house and entering. There were four bedrooms in the ranch-style house, all of them small but at least private, or private enough. Both Martha’s and Carol’s doors were cracked slightly, but Angel’s was all the way open. Table quietly moved through the room to the crib that held his world. The tiny girl was curled up, her puffy diapered bottom in the air. Her face made a few movements as he stroked a finger over the velvet softness of her young skin.

  He had never expected to be a father until that fateful night when his life turned on itself like a mountain road switchback. His wife, now ex-wife, had shown up out of the blue at his favorite bar while he had been on a date with a woman he was interested in getting to know better. Tamara had set the baby carrier on the pool table along with a bag with a few supplies in it and walked out the door, leaving Table to cope.

  One look at the pink bundle who was his flesh and blood was all it took for the future to turn in the most unexpected direction. Table decided then and there he had to move back to Asheville, both for help with his new fatherhood role and to figure out his next plans. He had considered moving back permanently, taking up the farm as his inheritance and raising his daughter as he had been raised, but he found himself missing the mountains of Bryson City and the club family he left behind.

  Angel grunted and shifted in her sleep. Table smiled at the squirming bundle. No need to make earth-shattering decisions tonight. His divorce had been finalized that afternoon, and he had gotten laid in celebration with a good friend from his past. Life would work itself out. He left the sleeping child and went to find his own bed, content at least for now.

  About the Author

  Thanks for reading Blue. I appreciate your help in spreading the word, including telling a friend. Before you go, it would mean so much to me if you would take a few minutes to write a review and share how you feel about my story so others may find my work. Reviews really do help readers find books. Please leave a review on your favorite book site.

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  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for reading Blue and Psalm’s story. I hope you enjoyed it. Blue, Psalm, and all the other Dragon Runners are fictional characters, but the dogs mentioned in the story were real. All of them were rescued from bad situations by either me or another person in my family. I tried to put their individual personalities into the story but did mix it up a bit. Toto was indeed a loving mutt of dubious parentage who loved nothing more than to bask in the sun and get petted. Sam was really a pit/boxer mix who was abandoned in a parking lot in a box and almost died before being found
. Buddy, Maxx, Dion, and Zeke were rescued and lived long comfortable lives with my brother and sister-in-law. Prince, Miko, Cuddles, and Freddie were the rescues I grew up with and who taught me to love having a dog in the house. It’s painful to think that dog fighting rings still exist but thanks to groups like the Merit Pit Bull Foundation, dogs that are rescued can get rehabilitated and a fresh start to a much better life. I hope if you consider owning a dog, you’ll think about getting a rescue animal. They really do win the doggie lottery when they go to a good home.

  As always, I have to thank the people at Hot Tree Publishing (Becky Johnson and her posse) for making this book possible. Without their support, I don’t think I would have had a chance to come this far in publishing this book series and I’m forever grateful that you took a chance on me. A big thanks to Carrie, Liv, Brittany, Robert, Andrea, and Franci for their feedback. Kim Deister, thank you for your editing and fine-tuning. I’m learning so much! Y’all are wonderful!

  About the Publisher

  Hot Tree Publishing opened its doors in 2015 with an aspiration to bring quality fiction to the world of readers. With the initial focus on romance and a wide spread of romance subgenres, we envision opening up to alternative genres in the near future.

  Firmly seated in the industry as a leading editing provider to independent authors and small publishing houses, Hot Tree Publishing is the sister company to Hot Tree Editing, founded in 2012. Having established in-house editing and promotions, plus having a well-respected market presence, Hot Tree Publishing endeavors to be a leader in bringing quality stories to the world of readers.

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