September 15, 2013
Howdy,
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
Moving on…
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!
Skylin
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