{"id":3541,"date":"2023-05-16T20:17:14","date_gmt":"2023-05-17T03:17:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/?p=3541"},"modified":"2024-07-02T16:52:00","modified_gmt":"2024-07-02T23:52:00","slug":"the-1st-promise","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/everything_else\/the-1st-promise\/","title":{"rendered":"Something a Bit Different, The 1st Promise is Now Available."},"content":{"rendered":"

\"The<\/a>
\nWhen City Brit meets Country Yank, two worlds collide, and only the dog doesn\u2019t bite.<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cRun, Aaron!\u201d<\/p>\n

World champion figure skater Sophia Morgan-Smythe wasn\u2019t one to let outstanding debts gather interest, and she\u2019s bound to repay the grumpy, hostile American hick who paid for her tow \u2026only to wind up further in his debt when he steps in a second time to save her life, and the only good thing about the guy is his dog named Buckley.<\/p>\n

Brit meets Yank in this epic tale of love against all odds. Buckley likes her; Aaron doesn\u2019t. Sophia is totally confounded.<\/p>\n

CLEAN, SAFE READING with Comfortably Sized Text, text and paragraphing set for ease of reading.<\/p>\n

This book contains no profanity, no graphic sex, nothing to make you want to hide your eyes. This novel is just pure entertainment in good taste. There\u2019s suggestion, there\u2019s sensual tenderness and intimacy, there\u2019s even situational humor (\u2018humour\u2019 to you Brits), but it\u2019s all General Audience. Nothing cringe-worthy.<\/p>\n

NOTE TO READERS: This book is written using two languages, U.K. English in Sophia\u2019s point-of-view and U.S. English in Aaron\u2019s, so word definitions, syntax and phrasing, as well as spellings change accordingly. You are advised. \ud83d\ude42 \u2014D. L. Keur and Carole Hill.<\/p>\n

687 pages, 122,000 words long, this is an epic love story.<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nOnly $4.99<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/span>\n

Want to read an excerpt? Here you go:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\n

<\/a>NOTE TO READERS:<\/h1>\n

This book is written using two languages, U.K. English in Sophia\u2019s point-of-view and U.S. English in Aaron\u2019s, so word definitions, syntax and phrasing, as well as spellings change accordingly. You are advised. \ud83d\ude42<\/p>\n

CLEAN READING<\/p>\n

No graphic sex, no profanity, no gore. There are suggestive scenes. There are sensual scenes. There are a couple of fight scenes, but there is absolutely nothing<\/em> that cannot be shared \u2018general audience\u2019.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

<\/a>1 \u2013 Road Rage<\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

THE TRAFFIC LIGHTS unexpectedly changed to red just as Sophia Morgan-Smythe reached the intersection. And here she\u2019d thought that she\u2019d got her speed timed right.<\/p>\n

Sophia cursed, clenched the steering wheel and stamped on the brake, her BMW grinding to a stop. Seconds later, an ambulance flew through the cross-street intersection, all flashing lights and wailing sirens. It was fortunate she had stopped and not sped through as usual. Maybe there was a god.<\/p>\n

Now, though, long minutes later, the light seemed stuck. Be patient, Sophia<\/em>, she chided herself.<\/p>\n

Didn\u2019t help.<\/p>\n

Shouted at the light to turn or she would be late, late not only for her rendezvous with Ian in an obscure out-of-town location to give him the $6000 he needed, but also for a vital skating practice.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy does every traffic light in every small town I drive through await my approach and then turn?\u201d she grumbled. Of course, her mum would say that it was divine intervention and that she should abandon this fool\u2019s errand. And, in the future, Sophia would do just that. Ian had been warned\u2014\u201cOkay, but I mean it, Ian. This is<\/em> the last time,\u201d she\u2019d told him. From now on, he could resolve his own problems.<\/p>\n

She sighed. Tapped on the steering wheel, waiting, waiting,<\/em> for the lights to change. But they weren\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Tempted to jump it, she looked around for traffic cameras\u2014none she could see\u2014but then reconsidered. Reminded herself that, unlike the U.K., police in the U.S. carried guns.<\/p>\n

With lights on red, she surfed through the various radio stations and paused as one played a familiar love song\u2014their<\/em> song. She started to sing along, but the words no longer seemed to hold the same meaning or stir the same emotions within her as they once had. Ian had changed since moving to Seattle, and not for the better.<\/p>\n

The lights were still<\/em> red. She tapped the steering wheel. Knew that giving Ian money yet again was a mistake, but she also knew he was desperate. \u201cLast time, I promise, Babes,\u201d he had pleaded, her husband\u2019s usual happy-go-lucky laughter lines all worry. \u201cThese people mean business.\u201d<\/p>\n

She wanted to believe him\u2014that it was the last time. Needed<\/em> to believe him. But she wondered why he would jeopardize his dream? \u2026Their dreams. And all for what? Stupidity? A new obsession?<\/p>\n

His brown eyes had searched hers, and he had teased her when she tried to resist him and his boyish charm that she found so attractive. And, once again, they\u2019d made love\u2014their mutual answer to everything it seemed. Then he\u2019d rushed her out the door to go to the bank and meet him \u2018there\u2019 \u2026wherever \u2018there\u2019 was, him setting the address on her phone SatNav and insisting that she not be late. \u201cOur marriage is not all about you, Ian, and I don\u2019t have a money tree,\u201d she\u2019d warned again\u2014her parting shot.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d nodded and given her another hug. \u201cDon\u2019t be late, please, Babes?\u201d He brushed her cheek with a kiss.<\/p>\n

So, shaking her head, Sophia had grabbed her bag, skipped breakfast, and, now, here she was, stranded at a stuck light, her stomach growling along with her mood.<\/p>\n

Finally, the light did change, and, as if on cue, her mobile rang\u2014Ian\u2019s ringtone. \u201cGo away, Ian! I\u2019m on my way!\u201d She dropped the Beamer into gear and burned through the intersection.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

\u201cYOU JUST LEFT half your rubber on the pavement, Dude,\u201d Aaron Jackson said, grinning at the fancy white BMW\u2019s backend as it tore off. Beside him, Buckley turned his big head, the mastiff\u2019s eyes laughing, tongue lolling. \u201cSome folks don\u2019t have no smarts, do they, big guy?\u201d Aaron chuckled, putting the truck in drive. \u201cHe must have a hot date that can\u2019t wait. Good luck with that on this stretch of highway.\u201d<\/p>\n

The papers on the console beside him started sliding off toward Buckley, and, knee-steering for two seconds, Aaron grabbed them and stuffed them into the storage compartment under the lid. \u201cSix new customers, Buckley. Six!<\/em> All big orders. All word-of-mouth referrals\u2014the best kind.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hands back on the wheel, he started whistling. He had their heads well above water, now, and was almost done paying back the money he\u2019d borrowed from his trust. \u201cNext month.\u201d Then he could start drawing a salary. Maybe hire his mom some help. Stopped whistling and turned on the radio. Chris Young came on. It was his foreman Mark\u2019s favorite station. Mark always chose The Bull. Aaron swapped to The Wolf, then switched back. He liked Chris Young. Started whistling again. \u2026And saw the white Beamer that was still in front of him gun it as the lights ahead turned yellow. \u201cMake it, make it, make it,\u201d he begged, knowing it would be close.<\/p>\n

Predictably, the lights turned red. He groaned. The white, four-door Grande Coupe\u2019s taillights came on as it braked hard, again. \u201cGreat. Stuck behind Mr. Hurry-Up-Can\u2019t-Wait all over again.\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

SOPHIA CLOSED her eyes, then leant forward to rest her throbbing forehead on the cold, hard composite of the steering wheel. \u201cEvery darned light!\u201d And all she really wanted was to go back home to England where life was far less complicated\u2014go back to how it had<\/em> been, how they<\/em> had been\u2014happy and in love.<\/p>\n

Two years she\u2019d listened while Ian waxed lyrical about his dream to return home to the U.S.\u2014his<\/em> dream that, after playing professional ice hockey in the U.K., he would be snapped up by a U.S. team on his return. He\u2019d insisted that she would also have more opportunities to develop her professional ice skating career. \u201cA win-win, Babes,\u201d he\u2019d told her.<\/p>\n

So, although doubtful, even cynical, she had supported him and uprooted her life and career, despite her personal reservations. And her reservations had proven right. You might be a shark in the pond back in England, Ian, but, here, you are just a minnow in a lake.<\/em> \u201cNot even a minnow! More like a tadpole!\u201d she muttered as she checked the light\u2014yes, it was still red. Closed her eyes, again, and sank into a puddle of misery at her own career\u2019s descent.<\/p>\n

She felt nothing more than frogspawn here, the other skaters at the local rink nicknaming her \u2018the scrawny Brit\u2019. World Champion four times, Olympic gold, and now she, Sophia Morgan-Smythe, had entirely disappeared from the ranks of renown. Moving here had been such a huge mistake\u2014a crushing one\u2014and there was no way to climb back up that she could stomach. \u201cI don\u2019t want to be a coach.\u201d And that was about the only thing left. \u201cI want my audience, my fans. I want to perform<\/em> again!\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

AARON WATCHED the light change from red to green. The fancy Beamer didn\u2019t move. Just sat there. He couldn\u2019t go around\u2014too many cars, the ones stuck behind him pulling out to push their way into the other lanes. He put his hazard lights on. Heart attack or texting?<\/em> he wondered.<\/p>\n

The light turned back to red. Telling Buckley to stay put, he got out. Walked up to the heavily-tinted window on the driver\u2019s side and rapped his knuckles on it, his eyes on the light.<\/p>\n

The window rolled down halfway under his tapping. \u201cYes? What do you want?!\u201d came an angry woman\u2019s voice\u2014a foreign-sounding voice. British, maybe?<\/p>\n

He turned his eyes to the open window. Definitely a woman! Not a guy with a feminine voice. Switched gears to polite. \u201cAh \u2026are you going to go when the light turns green again?\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman\u2014pretty, blonde, blue-eyed \u2026with about the longest, most ridiculous-looking fake eyelashes he\u2019d ever seen, and wearing a very<\/em> expensive wedding band\u2014she looked at him as if she would eat him alive. Her hand wafted the air as if he smelled bad. \u201cI\u2019ll move when I\u2019m good and ready!\u201d<\/p>\n

Flustered, he backed away. Took hold of himself, then stepped back up. \u201cLady, you\u2019re blocking traffic. There\u2019s nobody behind me right now, but that\u2019s bound to change any minute. You\u2019ve got to get a grip and do something.\u201d<\/p>\n

She revved her Beamer, cursed him, then burned rubber, the car\u2019s backend whipping, almost catching him across the legs, to blow through the intersection on red. He jerked away as she tore off and barely missed being hit by a van coming into the left turn lane beside him. Traffic horns blared; tires squealed and brakes ground, cars swerving and panic-stopping to miss the Beamer. Where\u2019s a cop when you need one?<\/em><\/p>\n

The Grande Coupe disappeared over the next hill as the light turned green, the sound of a horn loud in his ears from a car now stuck behind his idling truck. Waving apology to the driver behind him who flipped him off, then tore off around him in the right lane, he got in \u2026and had to wait for the light. Again. \u201cFigures, huh, Buckley,\u201d he grumbled, and his big friend riding shotgun next to him gave a low groan, then bundled his big body up into as tight a ball as possible and laid down on the passenger seat, dog overflowing upholstery.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

THAT STUPID BUMPKIN telling her \u2018to get a grip and do <\/em>something\u2019 because the lights were on green\u2026. Seriously! She\u2019d show him. Men! They were all cast in the same \u2018bossy\u2019 mould. Except for Ian. He wasn\u2019t bossy. Just irresponsible\u2014a dreamer. A selfish<\/em> dreamer. \u2026And there she was in her thoughts, full circle back to that. She pushed the speed up. She was<\/em> late now.<\/p>\n

Sophia was driving too fast and knew it for this particular stretch of road with its sharp bends and steep hills, but the clock on the dashboard confirmed she was now twenty minutes late and counting. She checked her rearview mirror to ensure the cowboy-hatted hick and his ugly, stinking diesel truck were nowhere in sight.<\/p>\n

Her mobile phone rang. Ian\u2019s name pulsed on the screen. Yeah, Ian, I know I\u2019m running late. Give me a break!<\/em> She swiped the screen to answer as she hit the next bend, lane departure alarm sounding, readjusted her steering to compensate, then snatched at the phone as it slid from the seat.<\/p>\n

Bluetooth kicked in, and she heard Ian curse over the car speaker, followed by his usual platitude. Of course, he picked up right where they\u2019d left off earlier that morning. At least his voice was mollifying: \u201cSophia, Babes. Where are<\/em> you?! You\u2019re supposed<\/em> to be here!\u201d<\/p>\n

Sophia jerked the steering wheel as an animal\u2014was it a moose?\u2014sauntered onto the road right in front of her. Her car\u2019s backend fishtailed, and she hit the brake. Hard. Missed it!<\/em> Her car slid, nose-first, over the edge into the centre reservation, ground on something, stopped, and stalled out.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/a>2 \u2013 Run, Aaron<\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

SOPHIA CURSED as she looked out the side window and watched the big, rangy animal\u2014it was<\/em> a moose\u2014continue across the highway to disappear into the trees beyond. Ian continued his tirade at her, and she finally zapped the call on the steering wheel control panel. If nothing else, at least she\u2019d managed to miss the poor animal. Shame it wasn\u2019t Ian. Then I\u2019d have made it a direct hit!<\/em> \u2026But she wouldn\u2019t have, and she knew it. For all his faults, she loved the big guy. This new gambling vice was getting serious, though. This would be the very last time she bailed him out.<\/p>\n

The sound of Ian\u2019s ringtone again crashed through her assessment of her own predicament. \u201cGO AWAY, IAN!\u201d she shouted to the sound, which seemed to be coming from somewhere off in the far reaches to the front and right. \u201cThis is all your fault!\u201d<\/p>\n

Thought about answering the call to ask for help, then immediately dismissed the idea. The centre reservation was not the best place to ground her car, which was now angled going the wrong way. She needed immediate assistance, not whenever Ian decided to show up.<\/p>\n

Releasing her seatbelt, she opened the door to assess the problem. Yep, the low-sprung suspension had grounded the car on a hump, and she was well and truly wedged. Attempting to get out, she yelped as her foot slipped down from where it was resting on the brake, her knee and ankle objecting to further movement. Her foot was trapped between the clutch and brake pedals.<\/p>\n

She closed the driver\u2019s door again and inched her fingers down her leg to the problem. Yes, wedged.<\/p>\n

Fingers going to the buckle at the back of her shoe, she tried to release it, but, one-handed with her long fingernails, she failed in her first attempt. Even two-handed, her face jammed against the steering wheel to reach, it didn\u2019t work. Groaned. Tried again. Gave up. Closed the door.<\/p>\n

Tried to get the car to connect to her phone. That failed, too. She hoped the phone wasn\u2019t damaged. Or the car.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

NEVER APPROACH a woman in distress. Aaron knew that rule. Had broken it. And almost paid for it by getting hit as she burned rubber. \u201cKnew better. Did it anyway,\u201d he muttered. \u201cNever learn.\u201d To his defense, though, he hadn\u2019t known it was a woman.<\/p>\n

The light finally turned green. Eight miles down the road, and there was the Beamer again, swung around and nose down in the median, the low car\u2019s body high-centered where the slope steepened.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t want to stop. Did anyway. This was a lonely stretch of highway\u2014not much traffic. Legally, Aaron was obligated to check on her and to help if she was injured or in danger of immediate harm. This time he had no choice. Grumbled. Shook his head. This was turning into a nightmare. Beside him, Buckley got up and looked.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

ONCE AGAIN, Sophia rested her forehead on the steering wheel. What else could go wrong today? Occasionally, drivers travelling on the opposite carriageway honked their horns, and some even started to slow down, but none actually stopped. Couldn\u2019t or wouldn\u2019t, she decided. She would just need to be patient and hope someone kind would arrive and offer help.<\/p>\n

First, Ian, then this. Bad luck usually came along in threes, they said. So what or who would be the third?<\/p>\n

As if she\u2019d rubbed the genie\u2019s lamp, number three appeared, knocking on the side window again\u2014the cowboy-hatted hick with attitude. What?! Was he stalking her?! She sighed and laid her head back on the steering wheel. She\u2019d been rude. Now here he was again, the only help in sight.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

THE WOMAN didn\u2019t answer his knock. Looking in through the windshield, he saw that the airbags hadn\u2019t gone off, so there was no collision impact. The lady didn\u2019t look hurt, either. Head on the steering wheel, she wasn\u2019t moving, but he saw no blood, and it was obvious that she was breathing, though she was<\/em> slumped forward. Her hands still gripped the wheel. Awake, maybe stunned.<\/em><\/p>\n

A check around the Beamer showed that it hadn\u2019t suffered any damage. It would have to be towed out, though. \u201cOr I can hook onto it.\u201d He didn\u2019t want to do that. Rife for a lawsuit if he damaged it.<\/p>\n

Braving it, he tapped on the window again. \u201cLady? Are you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, absolutely spiffing,\u201d<\/em> came the answer as the window finally rolled down partway. The woman groaned a disgust that reinforced the scorn on her face as she turned toward him. \u201cSeriously,\u201d she said. \u201cDo I look okay, you stupid hick? I parked in a ditch just for the fun of it! \u2026Why do you men ask such stu<\/em>pid questions?\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh, boy. One of those.<\/em> It seemed his lot in life to be constantly bumping heads with angry women. Calm. Stay calm,<\/em> he told himself, hard-tying his patience so it couldn\u2019t escape. Do what you legally have to do and get out of here. <\/em><\/p>\n

The woman groaned again. Then, \u201cI\u2019m sorry. It\u2019s not been a good morning. I don\u2019t mean to be rude.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you hurt?\u201d Aaron asked again, ignoring her apology. \u201cDo you need me to call an ambulance? \u2026Tow truck?\u201d Anger Management, maybe?<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNo \u2026well\u2014yes!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Of course,<\/em> she\u2019d take him up on it. You\u2019ll never learn, Aaron!<\/em> He called for a tow truck. Had to give them a valid bank or credit card number to dispatch. \u201cIt\u2019s not my car.\u201d<\/p>\n

Didn\u2019t matter. Aaron wouldn\u2019t be charged if the client was good for it.<\/p>\n

He used his ranch charge card. Gave over the ranch phone number, card number, billing address, and security code.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

SOFIA WOULD love to have declined the man\u2019s offer, but commonsense had overruled pride. She was well and truly stuck, her foot not budging. Heard him end the conversation with whomever he had called. \u201cAll right. Done,\u201d the hick said and started to turn away.<\/p>\n

Seriously, he surely did not intend to leave her stranded. \u201cWait! I need to get out first.\u201d<\/p>\n

He stopped and turned back around, his face a mask. \u201cWaiting.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sophia again attempted to extract her foot from between the clutch pedal and brake. Darn!<\/em> Her shoe would not give an inch. She reached down and once again attempted to undo the fastening at the back. Felt skin scrape. No chance.<\/p>\n

She looked across at the bossy stranger, and if a man could manage a resting grumpy face, this one had mastered the technique down to a fine art. She continued to wrestle with the shoe until reluctantly conceding defeat. Her pride screamed, \u201cDon\u2019t!\u201d but, again, common sense prevailed.<\/p>\n

Opening the door, she smiled sweetly at the stranger. \u201cEr\u2026. Excuse me. Can you \u2026er, please?\u201d<\/p>\n

She pointed.<\/p>\n

A \u2018please\u2019 accompanied by a smile usually worked. \u2026But not with this guy. His expression stayed the same and was utterly unreadable.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

A \u2018PLEASE\u2019. Wonders never cease!<\/em><\/p>\n

Squatting down so that he was at her level, Aaron asked, \u201cWhat\u2019s the problem, Ma\u2019am?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her hand, long, garishly-adorned nails that made her hands her own liability, indicated her leg\u2014a very long, nicely-turned leg, exposed from nearly hip to fancy, spike-clad hoof. \u201cMy foot? It\u2019s stuck?\u201d she said as if he couldn\u2019t see that.<\/p>\n

Nope. Not touching this one. Been there, done that.<\/em> He stood and backed away. \u201cI\u2019ll call 9-1-1. They\u2019ll send an extraction team to get you out,\u201d he answered, and watched her mouth drop open.<\/p>\n

She sputtered, a look of disbelief on her face. \u201cCan\u2014can\u2019t you help?\u201d<\/p>\n

Yeah. There it was. Just itching for a lawsuit.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think so. I don\u2019t need the legal hassles when you claim I put my hand or my head where it shouldn\u2019t be, or my eyes on something they shouldn\u2019t see. You\u2019re a Brit. Obviously you haven\u2019t been keeping up with the times here in the good old U.S. of A. I\u2019m a straight, white male, a ripe target for you feminists. No thanks. I stopped. You\u2019re okay. I\u2019ve called for help and done my duty by the law, so I\u2019m out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Aaron touched a finger to the brim of his hat and gave her a mock salute. \u201cHave a good day, Ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

Run, Aaron<\/em>, is what he thought \u2026and he almost made it.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/a>3 \u2013 Curse of Fate<\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHAVE A GOOD day! Honestly?!<\/em> Does it look like I\u2019m having a good day?\u201d she called to his retreating back. Sophia felt tears threaten. Why did these darn Yanks seem to end every conversation with \u2018have a good day,\u2019 especially when they knew full well you were having a terrible one?! And \u2018Ma\u2019am\u2019. Ma\u2019am! <\/em>Back home, one only addressed the Queen as \u2018ma\u2019am\u2019.<\/p>\n

The man continued walking away without a backward glance. \u201cHey, Cowboy! I\u2019m talking to you! You can\u2019t leave me here. I could get eaten by a bear!\u201d<\/p>\n

Sophia nervously surveyed the dense woodland opposite. Anything could be lurking in there. Anything! <\/em><\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t even pause. \u201cHey, YOU!\u201d<\/em> she yelled. \u201cYou can\u2019t just leave a woman in distress alone!\u201d And, still, he didn\u2019t pause his step.<\/p>\n

She screamed and held her hand on the horn, but, as well as being rude, he was obviously deaf. And how dare<\/em> he assume she was a feminist!<\/p>\n

Without so much as a backward glance in acknowledgement, she watched him get in his truck, give a pat to what looked to be a giant tan dog, pause to turn on his music full blast\u2014of course, it was Country\u2014before rolling his window up and edging his vehicle away from the shoulder. Then, he just drove off, abandoning her.<\/p>\n

She released the horn and then pummeled the flat of her hands on the steering wheel. \u201cMonster!\u201d<\/p>\n

Once again, she tried releasing her foot. Not a chance!<\/p>\n

She heard the throb of an engine behind her. Oh, good!<\/em> The 9-1-1, or who- or whatever Mr. Hick had called, had finally arrived!<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

IN HIS REARVIEW, he saw the muscle car pull up and stop. Oh, no.<\/em> He turned off the stereo.<\/p>\n

He slowed down, pulled over on the shoulder, Buckley getting up and grumbling out a low growl. Put his hazard lights on, the pulsing click of them hollow-sounding and stark in the sudden silence. Sure enough, two \u2018bad boys\u2019 in hoodies and slouch pants worn way below their navels exited the machine\u2014an older Dodge Charger\u2014that machine visibly vibrating and blowing black exhaust as it idled. Ready for a quick getaway?<\/em> Double trouble, no less.<\/p>\n

He hit the switch and let the window roll all the way down. Then he waited. Watched. Hoped.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

SOPHIA CAUGHT a shadow, a sense of movement. Someone yanked the back door open. \u201cWhat are you\u2014?\u201d She turned just in time to be greeted by the muzzle of a gun. \u2026And screamed.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

HE HEARD a scream\u2014hers. You could not<\/em> miss that woman\u2019s voice. Buckley growled again, hackles coming up.<\/p>\n

Hammer down, punching the throttle, Aaron spun it around, burning rubber the wrong way back to her.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

A SPOTTY YOUTH sneered, \u201cShut it, lady.\u201d Leaned in closer. Demanded, \u201cCell phone?!\u201d<\/p>\n

Sophia froze as he moved to her open door and pressed the gun into the side of her head. She nodded towards where her phone had disappeared. Panic! Where was it? Swallowed hard and closed her eyes. The smell of the toxic cocktail of the boy\u2019s stale sweat and cigarettes mingling with her own fear made her want to wretch. \u201cI\u2014I don\u2019t know where it is. It flew off the seat when I crashed.\u201d<\/p>\n

She felt the cold, hard steel of the gun push harder. She tried to stay calm.<\/p>\n

\u201cLady, play nice. I\u2019ll ask you one more time. Where\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

HE DROVE RIGHT at the hoods, putting the rig into the median and aiming at them as they stood beside her car. Laid on the horn.<\/p>\n

Their heads turned. Then, of course, they just stood there, deer-in-the-headlights. Stupid as well as criminally inclined.<\/em> \u2026Same thing.<\/em><\/p>\n

Both of them held guns, one a bag. Aaron\u2019s luck was definitely failing him today.<\/p>\n

He slammed on the brakes and jammed it in park when, almost on them, he opened the door, stepping out as the rig slid to a stop. Pulled his S&W to draw down on them as he did, Buckley jumping with him out of the truck, the dog\u2019s hackles full up. \u201cBuckley, stay.\u201d His door was between him and them, not that that door would stop a bullet, but there it was.<\/p>\n

Now they reacted as he leveled the gun, raising their arms, including their gun-toting hands, to cover their faces. They didn\u2019t duck behind the front of her car. They didn\u2019t use her as a hostage. They didn\u2019t aim their weapons. Newbies at their game<\/em> was his conclusion. \u201cLeave while you can still stand,\u201d Aaron told them, and watched them look at each other, look at the woman, then run, his aim and Buckley\u2019s head following them as they jumped in their sorry version of Hot Wheels\u00ae.<\/p>\n

Belatedly, he realized he should have had them drop the guns and the bag. The bag was probably her purse. Too late now.<\/p>\n

He sighed as, belching burnt-oil exhaust, the Charger tore off down the highway. Ordering Buckley back in the truck\u2014\u201cGet in the truck. Get in the back, and stay, Buckley\u201d\u2014he watched till the car disappeared. He had no doubt they\u2019d swing around and do a drive-by. \u201cGet out of the car and into my truck, right now!\u201d he barked at the woman. \u201cThey\u2019ll be coming back mad, spraying lead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m stuck!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

He put the S&W\u2019s safety back on. Repeated his command for Buckley to stay in the truck and jammed the gun into the back of his waistband. Went over. Grabbed the clutch and brake pedal, lifted, and told her, \u201cPull it out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could have done that earlier, you know,\u201d she sobbed.<\/p>\n

He heard what he thought was the sound of the Charger. They had maybe a minute to vacate. \u201cLady, if you don\u2019t want to be dead, get in the truck.\u201d And, grabbing her hand, he ran for it, dragging her with him. Let her go, scrambled into the cab, and slammed the door.<\/p>\n

Waited as the woman ran around and pulled open the passenger door.<\/p>\n

He extended a hand, and she grabbed it. Pulled her in, grabbing the back of her skirt to get her all the way in, yelling, \u201cLegs,\u201d as he floored it to yaw them around, just missing the Beamer with his backend, his tires spewing turf, his dog tumbled and slammed against the far side of the crew cab. He spun it the other way and beat it gone out of there, going the wrong way down the highway, the passenger door slamming shut from the momentum. Glad she got her legs in.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cBlimey,\u201d he heard the Queen of Anger say\u2014practically the first honestly civil word out of her. He heard the gulped-back tears. He saw her hands grab hold. At least she wasn\u2019t hysterical. He counted his blessings. And cursed fate.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/a>4 \u2013 Big Dog, Bad Attitude<\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

TERRIFIED, SOPHIA remained silent as, head jammed against his leg, her hair cascading around her face and onto the floor, she watched his boot on the throttle, his other on the brake. There was some dirt on the rubber mat, little pebbles that bounced and rolled.<\/p>\n

She was focused on holding tight to anything safe within her reach. The vehicle bounced, braked, and then lurched back and forth. And then they were going backwards\u2014fast. To think people paid good money for thrill rides such as these, and here she was getting one for free!<\/p>\n

Her emotions battled somewhere between her terror and hysterical laughter as they hit a bump that dislodged her grip on what she assumed to be the handbrake. She found another handhold on the centre console, a cubby there. Her other hand groped, finding and grabbing fabric\u2014his shirt, she realized\u2014something popping as the truck accelerated, then swerved back and forth. Shirt too flimsy, her hand found belt. Grabbed hold.<\/p>\n

They were going backwards at a ridiculous speed. Branches scraped the side of the truck, and she heard him curse. Felt him yank the steering wheel, more brush scraping. And then, finally, they stopped. After a long moment of stillness, she let loose her pent breath.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

HE\u2019D TAKEN the first and nearest dirt trail that was wide enough into the cover of trees, pulling up, backing around, then backing in fast, the ride making Buckley crouch, legs splayed and bracing, butt jammed in the corner. It bounced and jolted the woman still sprawled awkwardly across the center console and the seat, her hands gripping him and the console, her head jammed crookedly against his leg. Please don\u2019t break your neck.<\/em><\/p>\n

In cover, glad the truck was dusky gray, a color that camouflaged it well in the half-grown brush they were in, he stopped. Let it idle. Breathed out relief. Heard her do the same.<\/p>\n

Buckley gave a groaning sigh and laid down, Aaron\u2019s sentiments exactly. The woman let go of his belt, his shirt now pulled free and open in front by her desperate grabs.<\/p>\n

Loosed from her grip, he redid his shirt snaps as she sat up. Did the snaps up wrong, and, popping them all back open with a jerk, started again, this time from the bottom up instead of top down.<\/p>\n

Pulling the S&W free from where it jabbed him in the back, he set it on the console, muzzle pointed away from her, safety still on. He saw her eye the gun. Tucked his shirt in and put the gun back out of sight under his vest where it belonged. Put his seatbelt on and waited.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

TAKING THE OPPORTUNITY to pull herself upright, adjust her position and then grab the seatbelt to secure it around her, Sophia hitched down the hemline of her dress. Saw that the dog was, in fact, a massive, tan creature with black ears and muzzle. It was lying down on the back seat and watching her. She eyed it nervously and then decided it was no threat. At least for the moment. It wasn\u2019t growling. Neither was the owner of the dog, a good thing.<\/p>\n

Sophia stole a sideways glance at the hick, relieved he had returned to rescue her and scare away the muggers. A grudging respect softened her earlier opinion. It was her lucky day that this rude, crude, common laborer not only carried a gun, but also was not afraid to use it. She\u2019d also somehow have to convince Ian about guns.<\/p>\n

She\u2019d been nagging Ian since they\u2019d arrived from England that they should learn to handle a gun, but he had ridiculed her suggestion. Told her she\u2019d been watching far too many movies and shushed her when she objected. At least she now had the ammunition to press home the argument.<\/p>\n

She suppressed a snort of laughter at the thought of Ian manning up should someone point a gun at him. He had muscle and good looks, but not much else \u2026and was certainly last in the queue when brains and common sense were handed out.<\/p>\n

Tempted to ask if they were safe, she swallowed the thought. The hick\u2019s body language indicated otherwise. Two against one, both of whom were armed, and she guessed the odds were probably stacked in the thieves\u2019 favour when they came back.<\/p>\n

Remembering too vividly the gun muzzle pressed to her head, Sophia tried to control the panic that now rose up anew and threatened to overwhelm her. Close to tears, she dismissed the question and took a deep breath. Exhaled slowly to help her focus and remain calm, a technique she had developed to steady her nerves before a skating competition.<\/p>\n

The dog, now standing, edged forward. Sophia felt its hot breath on the back of her neck. It tickled. She turned slowly. Its curious brown eyes, unblinking, stared into hers, no doubt trying to decide if she was friend, foe, or lunch. \u201cBig dog,\u201d she ventured. \u201cDoes it have a name?\u201d<\/p>\n

The stranger didn\u2019t answer her. Just kept his eyes straight forward, watching the highway. She studied him\u2014his mouth was set in a hard line; jaw set, too; body tense as he gripped the steering wheel. The hands gripping were relaxed, though, not white-knuckled. Certainly, she thought, what the hick lacked in manners, he made up for in guts.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

BESIDE HIM, the woman had collected herself, covering up her decidedly provocative, lace-covered bottom, getting her neckline back where it should be, and generally pulling herself together. That she had buckled the seatbelt impressed. Some sense, it seems.<\/em> Everything else was too obviously a wash in the safety first department. If it was a choice between fashion and failsafe, fashion came first, just like with most of them these days. No, thank you.<\/em><\/p>\n

His nerves tense, muscles wanting to twitch as he felt her eyes on him, he kept studiously focused. Wished she\u2019d stop watching him.<\/p>\n

Buckley softly woofed. Aaron paid attention.<\/p>\n

In moments, the Charger screamed past on the other side of the median, slowed as it drove by the woman\u2019s stuck BMW, then sped up. Suddenly, it slammed on the brakes, backed up, and stopped even with the woman\u2019s car, the young bucks opening the doors and starting to get out.<\/p>\n

A cop car rolled past on this side. The kids jumped back into their oil burner and took off, and, predictably, the cop bolted across the median and, lights and siren coming on, went after them. \u201cOkay. That took care of that,\u201d Aaron muttered, more to himself than to the woman sitting next to him. \u201cCop\u2019s on the tail of those creeps. I\u2019ll take you back.\u201d<\/p>\n

He put it in gear.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre we safe now?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her voice quavered, and Aaron cringed. He hated tears, he hated hysteria\u2014both \u2018woman\u2019 things. At least he was saved one, maybe both of them with this one. She wasn\u2019t hysterical and wasn\u2019t crying, just shaken.<\/p>\n

Behind him, Buckley groaned, and a check in the rearview showed the dog lying down, putting his head on his paws. The mastiff was going to stay out of it. Chicken dog.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201c\u2026Are you sure<\/em> it\u2019s safe? Those yobs did not<\/em> look the type to\u2026.\u201d Her voice trailed off.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t answer her. Didn\u2019t know what \u2018yobs\u2019 were. But she did have a point. Put it back in park. Kept his eyes straight forward, watching for the tow truck. Then, deciding, he finally said, \u201cOkay. We\u2019ll wait here until the tow truck comes, then drive over. That suit?\u201d<\/p>\n

A moment\u2019s pause, then, \u201cBetter, thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2026A minute, then two of welcomed silence. Aaron started to relax\u2014mistake.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Sophia,\u201d the woman said, the voice still tight. He glanced. Saw tears blinked back as she extended a shaking hand as if in greeting.<\/p>\n

What to do?! He did not want to give her his name. He had to do something. She was looking at him expectantly. Panic began to set in. Abruptly, he chose to nod\u2014slightly, slowly, and he hoped it looked \u2018decidedly\u2019, too. He kept his hands quiet on the shifter and the steering wheel.<\/p>\n

It didn\u2019t work. Her next words were: \u201cAnd yours?\u201d She still held the hand out.<\/p>\n

He glanced away out the side window. What now? He cautiously touched her hand, and hoped that would satisfy.<\/p>\n

It did. The hand dropped. Still she looked at him, though. \u201cUm, I\u2026.\u201d Blew breath. \u201c\u2026Jackson,\u201d he said. \u201cA. Jackson. Rocking AJ Ranch.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

Her voice was getting stronger\u2014good. But he grimaced at the persistence in asking for his first name. \u201cFirst initial.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her face turning haughty and determined, she popped the glove box open. Grabbed the registration, him shocked at her audacity.<\/p>\n

Behind him, he heard Buckley get up. The dog was watching her. He signed, and Buckley lay back down.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, now, here it is!\u201d she said, voice trying to sound victorious \u2026which failed completely. She sniffed. Rubbed a hand across her eyes, then, mouth muscles twitching with spent nerves, tried smiling his way. \u201cArthur,\u201d she said, still trying to sound victorious. The effect was ruined by the still slight quake of her voice, but he admired her ability to recover herself. She\u2019d just gone through a really frightening ordeal, one that was his fault for not staying with her like she\u2019d asked, and most women, even his mom, would be being carried out in a basket, all hysteria, tears, and screams.<\/p>\n

She put the registration back and closed the glove box.<\/p>\n

\u2026A full five minutes of silence, her looking out the passenger-side window. It was bliss. Then the wrecker showed up. \u201cTow truck\u2019s here,\u201d he muttered, and put it in gear. Drove over. Told Buckley to stay put. Got out.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou the owner?\u201d the tow truck man asked as Aaron heard the woman\u2014\u2019Sophia\u2019, she\u2019d said her name was\u2014get out of the truck.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. The lady here is,\u201d he said as she came around.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay. Here\u2019s the bill,\u201d the man said, holding out an electronic clipboard.<\/p>\n

Aaron saw her swallow. Head to the BMW. Go to the open back door and just stand there.<\/p>\n

Memory jogged\u2014the bag. \u201cCharge my card on record,\u201d he told the guy.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill do, sir. You want the receipt?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. Give her one, too, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSent to your phone,\u201d the man said just as Aaron\u2019s phone pinged.<\/p>\n

He checked. \u201cGot it,\u201d he said, thanking the man.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right. Let\u2019s get this car out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPreferably without damaging it,\u201d Aaron said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAbsolutely.\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

SOPHIA HELD BACK the tears just long enough for her car to be towed from the centre reservation. When the tow truck driver handed her the invoice and paid-in-full receipt, she thanked him. Turned around to thank Arthur, too, but he was already in his truck, his music coming back on.<\/p>\n

He did glance her way for just a moment, touched the brim of his cowboy hat, and nodded before pulling out.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Arthur,\u201d she whispered as she watched the taillights of his truck disappear into the distance. Her earlier hostile behavior towards him made her feel guilty. He had obviously never attended \u2018charm\u2019 school, but he had put his own life in danger, so maybe\u2014just possibly<\/em>\u2014she owed him. Maybe guardian angels did<\/em> exist, and, today, one had manifested itself in the guise of a grumpy country bumpkin with a poor attitude and a very big dog.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When City Brit meets Country Yank, two worlds collide, and only the dog doesn\u2019t bite. \u201cRun, Aaron!\u201d World champion figure skater Sophia Morgan-Smythe wasn\u2019t one to let outstanding debts gather interest, and she\u2019s bound to repay the grumpy, hostile American hick who paid for her tow \u2026only to wind up further in his debt when […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":3552,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3541"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3541"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3541\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3555,"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3541\/revisions\/3555"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3552"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3541"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3541"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.dlkeur.com\/dlkeur-blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3541"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}