September 15, 2013
Remember when I said I was ready to start marking the death toll on Sons of Anarchy? Totally didn't know it would include so many. Will have to wait until next week's post to note the number, if that's even possible. I admire Kurt Sutter's willingness to make a bold choice and stand by it. He always claims his show doesn't flinch from showing the ugly side of things and honestly, I'm thrilled to see what happens when something the club is involved in bites them on the ass. Hopefully I've made my thoughts clear without giving away too many details. J
Strike Back is almost halfway through its run and my head sorta spins with everything going on. It's one of the things I love about watching. Stonebridge better catch a break soon and he needs to figure out what the hell he got into when he slashed his arm open. Something tells me that seemingly small injury will end up being the key to everything about whatever attack is being planned.
GAH! My shows are eating up too much of my brain. LOL
Tonight's post is from Ugly Drunk, a short story where Pippa and Wood have to figure their roles out and how to mix business with pleasure. :D Another of my favorite tropes.
Here's the tagline:
Pippa Rice is a problem solver and when she takes a job at a local watering hole, her natural skill defuses quite a few tricky situations. Too bad she can't quite figure out how to fix her boss, Wood Finnian. The guy has more baggage than an airport, but Pippa isn't one to give up on people, ever.
And a snippety peek…
Pippa entered the darkened bar after cleaning the kitchen. She grabbed her coat and draped it over her shoulders, ready to exit and head home. The scrape and thud of a chair's legs hitting the floor had her turning towards the sound. Shit. Wood. Alone. Drinking whiskey? Vodka? Didn't matter what he imbibed, the damage would be done. Her shoulders slumped and she shook her jacket off, hanging it back up on the hook by the door then made her way to the lonely table illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window.
Wood faced away from her and she laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Wood, it's past closing. Kitchen's scoured and scrubbed. You need anything else?"
He huffed out a harsh breath. "Of course. How could I forget? The great Pippa Rice does it all and does it right." He poured another tumbler of vodka. "The one who makes no mistakes and gets the gold star." He glanced around. "Don't have one ready to give out, so you'll just have to leave empty-handed."
His words slurred a little and Pippa wondered how long he'd been sitting out in the bar while she finished up for the night. Judging by the almost empty bottle, he'd been there since last call.
She sighed. "You're ugly drunk, Wood. We should probably get you upstairs and into your bed." She grasped his arm, hoping to help him up and keep him steady.
Wood snorted. "Now she wants to drag me into the sack." He jerked away. "You know what, Pippa. I don't think so. I'm gonna sit right here and go from ugly to stupid drunk." He picked the tumbler up and drained half the contents. "Go. Away."
She couldn't leave him. The shit day combined with bad news about his brother. Yeah, not a good mix. She walked around the table and plopped down across from him. "I don't think so, Wood. If habit holds true, you'll hit stupid drunk and then trash the place. You can't really afford to replace everything."
He directed a scathing glance her way. "Nah, I'm not gonna trash the place. But after stupid comes mean and not even you can withstand the shit I'll throw your way."
Pippa tilted her head to the side. "Is that a challenge, Wood? Try me."
He laughed—empty and humorless. "Pippa, do not say something like 'try me' to a man who wants you as badly as I do. And never, ever think of me as a challenge. I'm not yours to fix, you made that very clear." He drained his glass. "Do us both a favor and get out. Now. Before I take your presence as an invitation."
Pippa leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not leaving. Say what you will." She dropped her hands and leaned forward. "Do what you will, but I'm staying."
Wood studied her for a moment then nodded slowly. "You're not a stupid woman, Pip. None of my trouble is gonna disappear because you offer a warm cunt to ease my hurt."
Pippa flinched, the crude reference stinging, but held her ground. "And you're a smart guy, Wood. You should know by now that being an asshat and a ginormous dickhead isn't going to send me running."
Wood moved fast, scooting his chair back and rising. "Fine." He nodded towards the steps. "Let's go." He swayed slightly but remained upright.
Finally. Progress. Pippa got up and eased around the table, wrapping an arm around his waist. She planned to haul his ass upstairs, dump him onto his bed, and head home. She got him up the steps and opened his door, dragging him in behind her. She glanced around, looking for his room and after finding it, started to lead him in the right direction. Wood stopped and kicked the door shut with his booted heel then grasped her hips, hauling her close. His head lowered and his lips meshed with hers, his tongue sliding over her bottom lip, thoroughly exploring her mouth. Her hands skimmed over his arms to wrap around his neck and she lost the ability to think coherent thoughts—after realizing her plan had gone straight to hell.
And she didn't care one damned bit.
Pippa will definitely care later, but even she has to throw caution to the wind sometimes. J
That's it for this week. Happy reading!