Loving the wrong man (a Christian Fiction Story)

this is the beginning of another story I am working on. It's a story I hope to publish to Harlequin's Love Inspired line. Its about a woman running her family's horse ranch, but has to deal with poachers, coyotes, and people trying to steal & harm her horses.

Chapter 1

“Lindsay are you sure you want to go out there now. It’s getting dark, and it’s freezing outside,” her mother Raquel’s voice was full of concern.

“I have to mom. One of the horses, Rango, is missing. He’s young and he doesn't know how to find his way back to the ranch like the other horses to. Plus with the recent coyote attacks on the horses, I can’t afford to take any chances,” Lindsay said as she pulled on her thick down winter coat, and grabbed for her pistol

“ I've always hated that thing,” her mother said, referring to the pistol.

“Don’t worry mom, I've never actually had to shoot anything other than warning shots. It’s mostly just to scare predators away,” Lindsay assured

She grabbed for the keys to the blue Toyota pickup truck, and left the house. Her mother was hot on her trail.

“At least take the horse not the truck. The horse would be easier to navigate through all the thick snow.”

“No, I’ll be fine. Go back inside before you catch a cold,” Lindsay told her mother, before hopping up into the truck. As she drove off, she could still see Raquel standing on the porch watching Lindsay drive off the ranch.

Mothers, they will always find something to worry about.

Lindsay drove around the land, keeping a close eye out for the young brown horse and coyotes as she drove. She knew they were near because she had heard their howling earlier while eating dinner. That’s what had prompted her to go check on the horses, and discovering the stable was open and two horses escaped. She had found the first horse easily, and luckily it was not injured. But Rango was out there somewhere.

Straining her eyes, Lindsay saw something off in the distance. Gripping her pistol tighter just in case it was a coyote ready to attack, she drove her pickup truck in the direction. If it was a coyote, she needed to drive it away far from her land so it wouldn’t attack another one of her horses.

Dusk was settling in, which made things even harder to see, but she could have sworn the heap in the snow was not animal, but human. Her suspicions were confirmed when the headlights of her truck lit up the body of a man still in the fluffy white snow.

Oh God, please let him be okay, she prayed silently.

Grabbing her pistol, Lindsay hopped out of the truck and made her way carefully towards the body. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on the massive blood stain jeans on his right leg. No doubt there was a gaping wound underneath all that mess too. She suspected the man had gotten attacked by a coyote.

“Are you okay,” she said, but got no responds.

She knelled down beside him and used her fingers to feel for a pulse. Thank God there was one, but he needed medical attention soon. Lindsay had completed medical school, her residency, and two years on the job, but that was in pediatrics. She had quite her medical career to return to Montana to help her family care for the horse ranch when her father explained their recent coyote problem. She was sure the man on the ground had gotten attacked by a coyote. She had to do something to help before the coyote returned to finish the job. And if the coyotes didn’t get to him, the freezing tempters most definitely would. And it would be dark soon, making it impossible for the man to find his way alone without walking strait into danger.

Lindsay finally released her grip on her pistol and put it back into the truck so she had her hands free to drag the man into the bed of the truck. It was a near impossible task. The man was twice her 5’3 height, and surely more than double in weight over her petite frame. But somehow, probably the will of God, helped her get the man into the truck.

Thank God she followed her mind and decided to drive the truck to go on coyote patrol, instead of going on horseback like she normally would.

Lindsay drove her truck back to her family’s ranch in record time. When she pulled up, she laid in on the horn until someone came out. The first person to come out was her younger sister Loren, whose face was full of concern.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Did you find a coyote? What about Rango, the missing horse,” Loren rattled out without taking a breath as Lindsay hopped out of the truck.

“Slow down. No, I did not find Rango, or any coyote’s, but I did find this.” Lindsay opened up the truck bend to reveal the wounded man inside

Loren gasped in horror. “Oh dear God! DAD, come quick!”

A few seconds later a big burly man with wrinkled cinnamon skin, grey curly hair, and wire-rimmed eyeglasses came out on the porch. Lindsay always thought her father reminded her of the actor James Earl Jones with his intensity, his imposing size, and deep mesmerizing voice. But the man standing on the porch looked weathered, and tired.

“What’s all the yelling about…oh my!” Bruce said as his amber eyes laid on the bleeding man in the truck.

“Dad, help me get him inside so I can end to his leg,” Lindsay said. In her mind she prayed that some of her medical training would kick in so she can help this man.

Dillon woke to a bright light in his face, and the first thought was, Am I in heaven?

As his eyes began to focus, an image of a cute round face the color of raw sienna framed in dark brown spirally curls, and into view. Beautiful, he thought.

“Are you an angel,” he asked

A soft chuckle escaped her mouth and two deep dimples appeared on her cheeks.  “Hardly. But I am the woman who saved your leg.”

His leg, what was wrong with his leg? Dillon forced his eyes away from the beautiful face, and down to his leg. He pulled the thick quilt off his body. His eyes landed on his legs. He had on flannel pajamas with one leg cut up to the thigh. The thigh which was wrapped heavily in white bandages.

“You had a massive bite wound on your leg, like something bit into you, but don’t worry, your going to be okay. I clean up your wound, stitched you up, and gave you all the necessary shots to make sure you don’t’ get rabies or anything.

Massive wound, how had that happened? Then he remembered. He had been riding his horse Midnight, when the horse got spooked by a coyote, causing it to throw Dillon off its back and go racing off, leaving Dillon to be coyote food. The coyote had pounced onto his leg before he could move, but Dillon managed to scare it away with gunshots before it could do any more damage.

But Dillon soon discovered the pain was too intense to move, and Midnight was nowhere in sight. He couldn’t stand, let along attempt to walk back to his ranch. So Dillon just lay there, reasoning this was the fate he deserved. He knew for sure he was going to die. If the rapidly bleeding wound in his leg didn’t kill him, hypothermia most certainly would. That’s why when his eyes landed on the soft beautiful face, he automatically assumed God had forgiven him for his wrongdoings and allowed him into heaven. But if he wasn’t in heaven, where was he.

“Where am I,” he decided to ask.

“Wheaton Horse ranch,” she told him.

She moved to pour him a glass of water, so she missed the shocked expression that formed onto his face. She helped him to sit up.

“Here, drink this,” she told him, and helped him to sip. “My mom’s making some of her famous homemade chicken noodle soup for you to eat.”

“I can’t stay here. I have to go.” Dillon tried to get up, but the pain that shot through his leg crippled him, and sent him back onto the bed.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. That leg is in bad condition and needs to fully heal before you can walk on it.”

“What are your, a doctor or something?”

“Yes, or at least I used to be,”

Dillon picked up on a hint of sadness in her voice, but decided not to probe further. It was none of his business why she quit her career. His business was getting out of there.

A Hometown love

This is the beginning of a story I am working on. It's about a woman who left her small hometown as soon as she turned eighteen, and only returns fifteen years later for her sister's wedding. While in town, she runs into her high school love, the guy she promised to marry, but left behind for life in the big city. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

It had been fifteen years since Miranda Underwood left the small town of Clint, Alabama in her rear view mirror. It’s been fifteen years since she stepped foot in the town either. But now as she drove her silver Maserati down the long stretch of open road and watched as the fields of grass soon turned into familiar childhood hangouts-like old man Sheldon’s candy shop where he always let Miranda and her little sister Ashley get as many free candy as their little hands could carry, the old junior high baseball field where she had her first kiss, and the old malt shop where she had her first job-she felt a peace she hadn’t felt in years come over her.

At the first stoplight in town, Miranda rolled town all the windows in her car and closed her eyes in pleasure as the fresh country air hit her face. It reminded her of when she and Kent used to drive his pickup truck to lookout point-the highest hilly part of town where a lot of young people hung out-and lay out in the bed of his truck while the warm summer air danced with their hair and clothes. It was also the best place to see the stars at night.

A honk behind her startled her out of her thoughts. She looked to find the light had turned green. She waved an apology to the car behind her, and took off again. As she approached the old car service station, she looked at her gas tank and figured she ought to fill it up before she made it to her parents’ house.

Veering into the parking lot, Miranda found herself impressed with what the owners had done to the place. When she was growing up there, the building always had chipping white paint, the ground was always dark stained, and the inside made you want to turn back around and run away. But now it was painted a caramel brown color. The grounds, although still slightly stained, you could tell the owner spent a lot of time keeping it cleaned.

Miranda sat in her car for a good two minutes before she noticed that no one was going to come out to pump her gas. The place had always been a place where the workers did everything for you. Sighing, she swung open her car door and stood to her full 5’7 height, which was currently 5’11 in her four inch cream leopard print Louboutin heels.

Walking into the shop side of the service station, she was taken aback by the cleanliness of the inside. It was bright white; all the shelves were neatly organized with chips candy and sunflower seeds. The soda fridges where actually clean enough to see inside. Whoever the new owner was, they deserved a metal for the way they transformed the station.

“Hello,” she called out after seeing no one around.

“I’m back here,” a masculine voice called out from behind a large crate of Snapple juice.

“Okay, but shouldn’t you be outside? I sat there in my car for five minutes waiting for someone to come out and service me,” Miranda fussed as she removed her large Prada sunglasses from her face.

“That’s because the gas pumps are now self service. We no longer have attendants to do that.” His voice got closer to Miranda

“When did that stop?”

“About fifteen years ago when I took it over. You obviously haven’t been to Clint in a long while. Why don’t you…” his voice trailed off as they finally came face to face. “Miranda Mary-Jane Underwood. Why, you’re the last person I’d expect to ever see here again.”

Upon hearing her name come out of the guy’s mouth, Miranda took a closer look at the person who stood in front of her. The pasty face that was once covered in red acne, was now smooth tanned olive colored and was covered by a stubbly 5 o’clock shadow beard. The chocolate brown hair that used to hang well past his chin in a bad mullet was now neatly cropped into a sleek medium-length cut. He was now taller, much taller than she was, but he still held the same intense gaze in his crystal blue eyes that mad you think he was looking right into your soul.

“Kent Lambert,” she said in a breathless voice.

“The one and only,” he grinned, revealing pearly white teeth.

“Wow, you look…wow.” Miranda couldn’t think of the proper thing to say to describe how handsome he had become. “What happened?”

Kent shrugged his wide shoulders. “Late bloomer, I guess. Oh, I know why your hear. Ashley’s getting married this weekend to the mayor’s son, Dennis O’Shey.

“That’s right.”

“You’re looking good. You look like you stepped off someone’s fashion runway.” He openly stared at her and took in the leopard print heels, the dark denim skinny jeans, the fashionable cream blouse, and the designer shades that sat perched upon her dark hair. Her hair. The last he seen her it was full of wild wayward dark curls that had a mind of its own. He used to love to pull a curl, and watch it spring back into place. Now it had been straitened and hung all around her shoulders like a silky black curtain. Her smooth cocoa skin had always been perfect and required little makeup to look nice, but he could still see color above her eyes and tented color on her plump lips.

“I’ll take that as a complement.” Miranda shifted nervously from one foot to the other under his intense scrutiny.

“I guess. I rather liked the girl who used to wear ripped jeans, dingy sneakers, and graphic tees,” he said.

“We all change.”

Some more than others, he thought. She looked like one of those Hollywood stars she was always reporting about. California had obviously gotten to her. He wondered if the old Mi-Mi was still under all those designer clothes somewhere.

“Well, I’m sure you don’t have time to listen to me babble. Why don’t I help you pump your gas so you can be on your way,” he said as he led her back outside.

“You don’t have to do that. I can do it myself,” she said, now embarrassed by how much she didn’t know about the place she grew up.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” he halted as he stepped out the door and whistled. “Wow, this silver bullet belongs to you?”

“It’s a Maserati. And yes, it belongs to me,” she said.

“California sure is treating you nice.”

Kent didn’t say another word as he filled up her tank for her. As she passed him the money, he held it in her hand for a few minutes.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he said as he stared deeply into her big amber eyes.

Miranda gasped as a strange electricity went up her arm from the contact. The brief touch warmed her insides. She shivered when he let go, feeling cold and craving to feel his hand in hers again.

“I’ll be here all week, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.” Miranda smiled, the sped off before she said something stupid

My Dream

this is another dream I had. I wrote it as I dreamed it...as a story

Bohemian dressed artist Josey is walking up the stairs in a building when someone in a suit waves at her. She ignores the tall dark and handsome man because she doesn't know any men who would wear suits. She continues to look for her address. Not seeing it upstairs, she goes back down, only to be stopped by a large hand on her arm. It’s the man in the suit.

“ Aren't you Josey,” he asks

Josey simply gives him a strange look.

“I’m Garren, Jessica’s boss,” he continues.

She should have known it was someone her sister Jessica knew. Jessica was the fashionista who only wore top designer brands, drove a nice car, and only hung around people who were the same. Never mind that she grew up in the same hood as Josey.

“We met at the last holiday party at my office that Jess brought you to,”

So there on a nickname bases, huh. “Oh yes, I remember you now. Well, nice running into you. I have to go.”

She turns to leave, but he grabs her arm again.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m looking for the vintage clothing store.”

He simply chuckles at her comment. “Well, you’re in the wrong building. The vintage clothing store is at 515 Country Blvd. West, you’re at 515 Country Blvd. East. It’s totally across town.”

Josey groans. “Great.”

“I could give you a ride,” he offers.

“Uh…sure, thanks.” Well he is Jessica’s boss, so he must be safe.

As they ride in his sleek black Ashton Martin, the streets are slick, and the rain is coming down so hard, it’s hard to see. When the radio reports tornadoes in the area, Garren detours to his house to wait out the storm. Josey is unsure about going to his home, but the alternative is trying to catch the bus in torrential rain, so she goes.

His house is actually a two-level penthouse suite downtown with spectacular views of the city. She marvels over the decorations, white with gold’s and brown’s thrown in. there are gold and brown pillows on a large fluffy white sofa that sits in front of a beautiful white marble (or Ivory) table. On top of the table is a brown crafty bowl with brown wooden balls in side for decoration. A plasma TV is mounted to the far end wall, the carpet is a plush white, and the kitchen is cherry wood & stainless steel with black granite countertops. The actual living room (which he uses) is like a man cave with brown leather sofa/recliner chairs, deer antlers on the wall, some sort of gold award hanging on the wall, and a red plaid blanket with a small Scottish flag printed on it is thrown over the recliner chair. It is a blanket his Scottish mother brought him as a souvenir when she went to visit Scotland, where she’s from.

Up the stairs (which is covered with white carpet because it’s in the main area), there are three bedrooms, but one he keeps strictly for when his parents visit. She finds this thought sweet. The guest bedroom is painted a light blue with white quilt, brown decorations, and seashells all around. It supposed to be a beach theme room, his sister decorated.

His room is the far end of the hall. Opening to French style cherry wood doors, the first thing you see is the wall of windows that overlook the city. The wall stretches through the entire bedroom, His light grey and charcoal grey covered bed faces the windows. (The actual quilt is light grey, and has one of those bed decorative throws on the bottom that is charcoal grey). The bed has a material black headboard, and is huge, given his 6’4 well-build frame. Walking to the right there is a small lounge area where a grey sofa and a white table stacked with magazines & books lay.

Further down is his in-suite bathroom that is white and grey marble, with a Jacuzzi tub, and a state of the art shower behind a glass door.

Oh how the wealthy lives, she thinks to herself.

When threats of tornadoes surface, he makes her stay in the guest bedroom. He gives her one of his t-shirts, which fits like a knee-length dress on her petite frame, to wear to bed, which he picks the most inopportune time to bring it to her. He comes into her room while she’s showering and has just exited the bathroom nude because all the towels are in the linen closet in the bedroom.

He later apologizes to her, and has a dinner of fresh tomato pasta and red wine, which they eat beside the fireplace. Over dinner they talk about their lives and how it was growing up. He tells her about how his widowed mother would move all over the world to be with whatever latest boyfriend she had at the time. She was wealthy because her father was a billionaire luxury-brand trader and Jeweler to the stars. She says her life was a lot simpler than his, and involved growing up on government assistance in public housing. He reminds her that she and her sister still managed to make something of themselves.

When she gets sauce on her chin, he wipes it with his fingers, before pausing to stare into each other’s eyes, and then engaging in a passionate kiss that has them ripping their clothes off and making love which starts in front of the fireplace, but ends in his bed. She wakes up to a single rose on the pillow beside her, and a note that says, “Come downstairs.”

So she gets up and starts down, until she hears voices. She changes directions to the guest bedroom to put her clothes on first. When she gets to the kitchen, middle-aged woman is there talking to Garren. She looks Josey up and down, then turns to him with questioning eyes.

Josey is insulted when Garren introduces her has his executive assistant’s sister who just came to drop off files for her sister and was just upstairs using the restroom. Hurt, Josey quickly agrees, then flees just as quick. Garren excuses himself from his mom in hopes of catching Josey in the hallway and explaining, but she flees to fast.

The realization that he just used her for sex begins to set in, which makes her tear up and puts her in a depressed mood. When she meets her sister for lunch, Jessica can since the mood, and demands to know what’s up.

So Josey simply tells her that a man she thought was an honest, caring gentleman, really just used her for sex, and then brushed her off as nothing. Jessica is pissed, so pissed that she brings her anger to work, which Garren notices and asks why she’s upset. Being that they are close, she tells him, not knowing he’s the guy. Garren feels bad, and asks Jessica for Josey’s address so he can make her feel better. Jess just thinks he’s being a good friend.

But Josey is not pleased to see him at her doorstep. She’s even more angered when his explanation is his mom would not understand her being there because she’s not the biggest supporter of interracial relationships. Josey reminds her that he’s grown man who doesn’t need his mother’s approval, then kicks him out.

my outragious dream I had last night (reads like a story)

In this dream me and two other people I don’t know in real life or in the dream, were living on some island with a beautiful rocky cliff side to it.

It was me, a Hispanic girl, and an African girl. I think the African girl was Egyptian and Somalian because she had beautiful soft cocoa skin and a head full of silky curly hair. The Hispanic girl had a main of long beautiful chocolate brown hair that flowed down her back like a silky chocolate curtain.

 Anyway, somehow we were captured by some bad group, and taken held prisoner in their underground prison, which really was an underwater cave.

They gave us some sort of pill that allowed us to breathe underwater without any assistance. I don’t remember the conversation, but I do remember that we were being held as guinea pigs to test some sort of experiment on. There was a heavyset Jamaican bald guy also down there.

When they were done, they told us the next day our skin would feel very tingly and sensitive. We didn’t have time to question what he meant because he forced another pill down our throats that made us breath again and then let us go swimming back up to shore.

The rocky cliff area where we lived had a waterfall, so we had to swim around to the other part and climb up the rocks to get back to the island. We could see the area where the waterfall crashed into the ocean below from where we were underwater. Although we knew getting caught in this would be very dangerous, it looked beautiful from underwater.

When we finally made it to the safe side of the rocky cliff, we began to climb up. I noticed the rocks were carved into faces that looked like Hawaiian masks. The rocks were still slippery because extra water still flowed over to that edge. Every ten seconds, we would be forced to deal with a gush of water that fell down above us. Add this to the fact that none of us have ever climbed any type of rocks, and you understand the danger and fear we felt.

Back on the island, we felt like the center of attention. It felt like everyone was watching us. We had no idea with those men did to us in the underwater prison, but we were sure we’d soon find out. We stopped to get freshened up in the bathroom, and for some reason this Black guy with skin the color of caramel also followed us in.

Turned out the Hispanic girl knew the guy. He remembered that she was looking for work and was finally ready to help her. He asked her to follow him to some building. As they were leaving, my mind turned into some sort of computer screen.

You know when you watch those movies and they show a robot or whatever staring at an object and they can see all the stats on the person as they are staring at them. Well, that’s what my mind did; only it told me this guy was evil.

The African girl and I rushed to stop the Hispanic girl before she went into the building with him. The guy got angry and charged after us, but as soon as I touched him glittery dust flowed from my hands, killing him instantly.

Turns out, the man turned us into some sort of superhuman with a computer brain and superman-like powers. The only difference is we were human. The tingly sensitive skin, we soon learned came as our powers increased. We also learned the hard way that it forced us to stay away from our loved ones because if we came within two feet of them, they’d start to feel agonizing pain that would kill them. So we stayed away.

(That’s where the dream ends. I know it’s a shame because it was getting so good.)