A Slice of Orange

“Don’t you think we should pull over and let the snow storm pass over us?” It was the third time I’d asked the same question in the past twenty minutes, but my boyfriend just smiled.

“As slow as we’re driving some people might think we’re standing still all ready.” He didn’t look at me, but kept his eyes glued to the winter wonderland in front of us.

How he kept his Pontiac Impala, “the tank”, on the road, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t see the road, just a sea of white.

Being from Texas, I’m used to Valentine’s Day being a cold crisp day with glowing sunshine. No snow, no ice, maybe some rain, but most of the time it’s a beautiful day with love in the air. Hearts and flowers decorate everything.

Did I mention no snow? Or better still never a blizzard?

“How can you see?” I asked, straining to see through the caked-on mud and dirt that covered the windshield. The wipers succeeded in shoving the falling snow off to the side, but the picture in front of us remained a dirty white field of nothingness.

He pressed the button for wiper fluid. Nothing happened.

A large truck traveling in the opposite direction zoomed past us at a break-neck speed of fifteen miles per hour. The window shook. A backlash of muddy water sprayed us with debris from the truck’s wheels. A dark veil fell over the windshield. I couldn’t see anything. My fingers dug into by boyfriend’s thigh.

Did I happen to mention it was cold?

The huge cavernous interior of the car held me prisoner, my only protector, my boyfriend’s calm composure and his steady hands on the wheel. You see, he grew up in the North. This was old hat for him.

“I’m going to pull over. I need to clean the windshield off.” He maneuvered the car to the side of the road. How he even found the side of the road I’ll never know.

My hand caused a few more bruises when the car fishtailed before coming to a stop.

“I’ll be right back.” He opened his car door slowly and left.

Alone, I began to panic. How was he going to clean the windshield off? There wasn’t any water out there. It was all frozen. The wiper fluid was gone.

I watched him out the side window as he picked up snow and threw it at the front window. I jumped when it hit. Did I mention I was terrified?

He wiped the snow over the glass with his gloves. It melted and cleaned the surface. My boyfriend was brilliant, a genius. I knew I loved that man for a reason.

When he walked back around the car and opened his door, he threw his wet gloves in the backseat. I hugged and kissed him, glad that he was back beside me.

He dug in his pocket, pulled out a jewelry box, and handed it to me. I opened it.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

My hero, my savior, the man that held my life in the palm of his hands, wanted to know if I would be his bride.

What do you think I said?

Tina Gayle had made her first sale to Wild Rose Press. Visit Tina’s blog at http://www.tinagayle.blogspot.com/

Well many moons ago, I was young, silly and in love with being in
love, don’tcha know!

Love of my life and I where planning a romantic trip away for
Valentine’s Day a few years ago.

He said he would take care of everything, booking and planning of
said trip, and I like the egjet I am, let him.

I told all my friends about it, raved about said love-of-my-life,
the ohhed and ahhed and said how lucky I was.

I brought sexy underwear and sexy pj’s, packed a few little toys
and the like and away we went.

He was very cagey about where we where going, but did let slip
that no passport was needed…………..bummer.

On the day itself was so excited and was up at the crack of dawn,
ready, eagerly awaiting my romantic trip………….I was so loved
up and worshipped my man and off we went.

We went to Brighton, okay not what I was expecting but what the
heck……………….. nice hotel, romantic dinner, walks on the beach, dancing and of course room service, what more does any girl need.

Imagine my surprise when we didn’t stop at the seafront, ahh I
thought the countryside, maybe a little cottage, hmm, very nice I
thought.

Finally we turned into a field,
( you can see where this is going can’t you?) There at the other end of the field was a clapped out old caravan, very small and dingy looking.

He was beaming and grinning like a loon, so very happy for himself!

When we got out of the car, I sank straight down into the mud and
ruined my second fave pair of shoes!

Still I gritted my teeth and said nothing, ( he thought i was
overcome with emotion , well I was but not like he was thinking, I
can tell you!).

He said that his friends’ dad had offer it to him for the weekend
and he thought it was too good an offer not to miss!).

It now began to rain and he couldn’t get the key to turn in the lock
of the door, really was going well so far!

When we finally got inside, I could have cried!

It was musty and stale smelling not to mention or to put too fine
a point on it………………filthy!

Now he was beginning to see for himself, this might not have been
such a good idea after all.

We had no food, no water, no heat and no electricity and no bloody
loo!

All this time I had been very quiet and now I could see he was
beginning to get worried!

I asked him what he had packed for the trip and he said “his
fishing gear, some beer and a change of clothes”,
then asked him “what was I going to be doing, while he drank and
fished the weekend away?” are you ready for this………..yes?

Well because he had been offered the caravan for free, his
friend’s dad thought that in return he could clean and tidy it up and get
it all nicely spic and span, so he thought I being the “little lady”
could do that while he relaxed!

So there I where in the middle of the field, in a mangy caravan,
with a lunatic.

He looked at me and said, “you don’t mind do you?”.

I knew there and then he had a death wish!

Well I said we will have to go back to town and get some cleaning
materials.

When we got back to town, he gave me some money we split up to go
to various shops, and were to meet back up an hour later.

I booked into a very nice hotel, had a lovely bubble-bath,
changed and went to dinner and left the next day to go home by
train…………….

Where he is I don’t know, but if he knows what is good for him he will never darken my door again EVER!

EMMA

The sexy next-door neighbor that I had my eye on for quite some time had started inviting me down to the neighborhood bar to play bingo. No, we are not in our seventies. We are in our thirties. Honest. Well, okay I’m 41, but don’t tell anyone.

The week before we had won a hundred dollars and the next Bingo night happen to fall on Valentine’s Day. To celebrate the bar was having a $1400 coverall jackpot. “Is it going to be a date?” Cullen asked.

“It’s a date,” I said thinking more about the possibility of cashing in on kiss, if he wanted to spend the day set aside for lovers with me. He had to have more on his mind than Bingo.

The following week when I picked up Cullen I didn’t realize he had been drinking. We got to the bar and the lot was packed. Cullen assured me it would be okay to park by the big green dumpster with the no parking sign. “No one picks up garbage in the evening. “

We hurried into the bar not wanting to be late for the start of the game. We bought our card and daubers. I had on a snug white t-shirt, we a scoop neck and the swell of my cleavage was one of Victoria’s Secret uplifting bras. The game starts. There are three cards on a sheet of paper and we each have our own sheets. After the third number has been called, I look over and Cullen is just staring at me. He hasn’t even daubed his free spots. So, I tell him. “Do your free spots!” I’m twisting on my bar stool to see the TV so I can see what numbers he missed and all of a sudden, I scream. My right nipple shriveled up so tight and hard I thought it was going to pop right off my breast and then my left nipple gives a repeat performance. My eyebrows are resting somewhere behind my widows peak and my mouth is moving like a wide mouth bass trying to spit out a lure. Cullen daubed my boobs.

He got those free spots and I got bright red blobs right over my nipples, I didn’t win the 1400 dollars and I got to ride with a toothless (the reason I know he was toothless was because he grinned at me the whole time he drove me over to the impound lot to pick up my car.

Happy Valentine Day.

Christine Columbus
Available at The Wild Rose Press www.thewildrosepress.com
“Happy Meal” “Love and Coffee To Go” “Drama Queen” “Uncle Mike’s Love” “First Class Male”
Coming soon: “Hard Day On The Farm”
Visit me at http://christinecolumbus.blogspot.com/

My best friend introduced me to a friend of hers. I thought he was sweet, and very hot! He worked for a food company. He gave me a call and told me about a special Valentine’s banquet his company was having.

We had dating for about three months before this, and I thought, why not? It was my birthday, I wasn’t getting any younger, and I had this hot guy wanting to take me away for a weekend right?

Wrong.

When we got to the hotel, he checks us in. It was beautiful. I didn’t know anyone from his company, and felt a little out of place. I soon found out he had made reservations for only one room. I thought, great, I am going to get lucky.

Wrong.

After checking in, we unpacked, and changed our clothes. My date had a meeting downstairs and the wives, girlfriends and significant others had activities going on while they had their meetings. I got to know some of the other women and boy, was that an eye opener.

Turns out, he was a player. Great. Now, I’m stuck all weekend with a sex-crazed jerk, with no way to get home. On top of that, we were sharing a room!

We go back upstairs, fool around a little and then he goes to take his shower. He has a magnificent body by the way. He works out, so he’s firm and built. Not bothering to hide himself, which I think is a little unusual, since we’ve never done it before. He strolls across the room, gets his, no kidding, Speedo underwear, and takes them to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he comes out and asks if I’ve pressed his clothes.

Pressed his clothes, what does he take me for, the maid? I grab his clothes from the closet and hand them to him while I get my own to take a shower. I dress in this drop dead gorgeous off the shoulder designer gown, and come out and realize I was alone.

Ok, I’m stuck in a hotel room and I can’t go home. Surely, he’s coming back isn’t he?
Deciding that since it was my birthday, I’m in a beautiful hotel, and the food is free, I’d just make the most of it. I hear a knock on the door; I answer it thinking that he’d forgotten his key. It was one of the wives.

Smiling, I let her know that I was waiting on my date. She looks at me strange, and tells me he’s been down in the bar for the last hour, and by the looks of it, drunk.

I grab my key, and follow her down. We get to the bar and the men start letting out low whistles. We smile, make our way over to the bar, and order a glass of wine. My new friend gives her husband a kiss and introduces me.

Her husband asked who I was with. I tell him, and I get this look. Ok, now I’m really getting worried. What’s the deal with this guy?

Looking around, I didn’t see him. My friend and her husband escort me into the dining room, and there in the corner is my date. He looked drunk as a skunk and trying to hump the wall.

I walk over to him, with as much grace as I can find, with everyone looking in our direction. I tap him on the shoulder, and apologize for interrupting his social hour, but dinner was being served, and I’d really like my date back.

The young girl, and I do mean young, looked extremely embarrassed at being caught doing the horizontal mambo in the dining room. She wasn’t even a guest at the banquet.

I tried to make light of it throughout the evening, but it go worse. All I wanted was to go home. I’d try to find someone in the morning to come and get me. My ex was out of town, my best friend and her husband, were celebrating at a Bed and Breakfast in South Texas, and I was stuck with a jerk, trying to hit on every woman, he could find.

I thought I was the woman he was going to get lucky with. Guess not.

By the time the banquet ended, I had everyone looking at me, thinking, poor woman. To be left all to herself, at what was supposed to be an event for sweethearts, and then, to have to share a room with that.

God, don’t remind me.

I finally gave up and went to our room. Here he came. He stumbled into our room, it was three in the morning, my birthday, and he was trying to make his way into my bed. Ha!

I was dressed in a lacy black teddy, that I had purchased for my evening of supposed romance, and now I had a drunken idiot trying to paw me. I tried to push him off, but I didn’t have too try too hard. He passed out while trying to unzip his pants.

Slipping out of the bed, I crawled into the other one. I have never, in my life, felt more humiliation, or been so devastated. I really thought that maybe once my husband and I got divorced, I’d find someone who wanted to show me what love and passion were all about.

Wrong.

Waking up, I look at the alarm clock. I was six o’clock in the morning. Enough was enough. Dressing, I packed my evening gown, in which I had looked damn good! I don’t think he ever really saw me.

I start tugging on him to get him up so he could take me home. He grunts, looks at me, and falls back to sleep. It was useless. I’m tired, humiliated, I’m crying and I want to go home.

I grab my key and head down for the breakfast. I wanted to eat, before trying once more to get that lazy bastard up. I never wanted to look at his face again.

I order my breakfast, and his boss comes to apologize for my date’s behavior. He wanted to know if he’d done anything inappropriate. I think a moment. Lets see he tried to maul me, ignored me, and abandoned me. I answer no.

We ate our breakfast, and he hands me his card letting me know that if I change my mind, to give him a call. They walk me back to my room, and there lay my date, exactly where I had left him.

It was after nine. I hadn’t slept, it was my birthday and Valentines Day, and I’m stuck in a hotel room with a drunk. God could this get any worse.

Looking around, I see the half-empty coke bottle sitting on the dresser that he’d been drinking out of yesterday, and thought, why not.

Picking up the bottle, I toss it at him. When that didn’t work, I go over and start pounding on his head with as much strength I have. He jumps up and starts screaming and rubbing his head, while looking at me with a go to hell look.

He drives me home in silence, doesn’t get out of the car to help with my bag, and drives off before I get the door closed. Happy Birthday to me…Happy Valentines Day to me.

February 14th, 1997 was absolutely the worst day of my life.

Donna Massey
Author of unpublished novel:
Tennessee Spitfire

It started out fine. In fact, it should gave been a wonderful Valentine’s Day. My boyfriend, Kurt, and I planned to celebrate our third anniversary with a romantic, candle-lit dinner at his favorite restaurant. Barnaby’s overlooked the harbor, and while their menu didn’t exactly boast a huge variety of diet-friendly foods, and in general the servers were snooty and impatient, the music often loud and intrusive and the clientele of questionable virtue, the slabs of beef they offered were quite generous and that’s what mattered to Kurt.

I’d ordered my sweetheart his favorite cologne, an expensive, exotic blend, that I was planning to pick up at his favorite men’s shop on my way home from work. It had taken a big bite out of my budget for the month, but heck it was Valentine’s Day and Kurt was worth every penny. Though our relationship had been somewhat stormy over the past couple of years, in recent weeks we had settled into what I thought of as an idyllic state of bliss. With the worst behind us, I just knew Kurt would be popping the question soon—maybe even tonight.

I wanted everything to be perfect just in case. I had arranged to leave work early so I would have two full hours to dress and do my hair and makeup. Knowing how much stock Kurt put in being punctual, it wouldn’t do on this special occasion for me to be running late. He would arrive at my apartment precisely at 6:45, and I planned to do my best to look ravishing.

The afternoon flew by, and before I knew it it was 4:30, time for me to put my special plans in motion. Time to get ready for the best Valentine’s Day ever.

The first hint that the night wasn’t going to be as perfect as I’d hoped came when I arrived at Montgomery’s Men’s Store, starry-eyed with checkbook in hand, only to be told, “I’m sorry, but the cologne you ordered hasn’t come in yet.”

My stomach took a nosedive. “But…but you promised me it would be here today.”

“I know, but there was a dock strike on the east coast,” the fresh-faced young salesman explained. “It’s out of our hands. Check back on Monday.”

That took the wind out of my sails, but what could I do? Surely Kurt would understand and be content knowing that such an extravagant gift was on its way. All was not lost, I realized as I arrived home. My special gift would be to wear my hair and makeup just the way Kurt liked them, and to wear his favorite outfit—the red silk dress with the slit up the side and the strappy black stiletto heels. In truth, I would much rather slip into my black polyester sheath with the matching bolero jacket. Still carrying a few extra pounds left over from the holidays, I’d have been far more comfortable in the black. But picturing the gleam in my lover’s eyes when he saw me in his favorite dress shoved all my self-doubts aside. It would be well worth a little discomfort. Well, maybe more than a little discomfort, since the stilettos always managed to rub my feet raw by the end of the evening. I brushed my hair until it glistened and applied the curling iron with dramatic flair. The end result was a riot of fine, blond curls around my artfully painted face, heavy on the mascara. Kurt had remarked often enough how he loved long, thick lashes on a woman. He’d find no fault with mine tonight. The reflection in the mirror showed a blue eyed, exotic-looking female staring back. A little red lipstick to match the dress, and I’d be ready to go.

The phone rang just as I was reaching for the lipstick in my bathroom drawer. “Hey, babe. I had a little setback at work this afternoon. Would you mind terribly if I didn’t pick you up? I called the restaurant and told them we’d be a few minutes late. Think you could meet me there at 7:15?”

Disappointment crowded my chest. I did mind. I’d taken great pains to make this night special, and now I was going to have to drive to the restaurant alone. Of course in the general scheme of things, it was only a minor setback. I could overcome. “Sure,” I said with false cheerfulness.

“Meet you there. And Kurt…happy Valentine’s Day.”

“You too, babe.” And he hung up.

I used the extra time to stuff my wallet and keys, along with a few other necessities, into my small black beaded handbag. Grabbing my coat and the Valentine’s Day card I’d lovingly chosen for Kurt, I left the apartment and got into my car for the short ride to the restaurant. Stars shimmered brightly in the deep velvet sky, playing peek-a-boo with a glorious full moon. A night made for romance, if ever I’d seen one. Or so I thought until about a mile and a half down the road when my engine stuttered a few times and died. How could this be happening? I checked the slim silver watch at my wrist. In less than ten minutes I would be late for a very, very important date. Possibly the most important date of my life.

Luckily I was stranded in a safe place, on a residential street in front of a cheery home with lights in several of its windows. Grabbing my cell phone, I scrambled out of the car. Steam hissed from under the hood, and even before I threw it open I knew the radiator had sprung a leak. A serious leak judging from the puddle of rusty water beneath my tall black stilettos. I dialed Kurt, but got no answer. As I went around to the passenger side to retrieve my wallet, I heard another kind of hissing…just before the yard sprinklers came on full-force. With a screech and a howl, I high-stepped it back out into the street and attempted to use the car for a shield. Too late. To my shock and dismay, the back of my dress was soaking wet, my hair was damp enough to have lost most of its curl, and my ankle hurt like the devil from where I twisted it jumping off the curb.

And I was now officially late meeting Kurt.

There was nothing for it but to call a tow truck, seeing as how my boyfriend wasn’t answering his cell. The chill night air forced me back into the car to wait. Sitting there alone in my clinging wet dress, with my hair straggling down around my shoulders and my ankle throbbing, I couldn’t imagine a more ignominious ending to what should have been a beautiful evening. I was busy wallowing in self-pity when the tow truck arrived. I hardly noticed the man when he got out and walked up to my window, just grabbed my membership card and opened the door. His voice caught my attention first, deep, with a rough, sexy quality to it and a slight accent–southern maybe.

“Evenin’, ma’am. Looks like you’ve been sidetracked on your way to an important engagement.”
“It’s Valentine’s Day,” I replied, as if that explained everything. The guy didn’t look much like a tow truck driver now that I was paying more attention. No grease-stained uniform or baseball cap featuring the company logo. Instead he wore a snug black T-shirt and jeans, boasted what appeared to be several days worth of golden stubble on his cheeks, and light brown hair that swung free to the tops of his wide shoulders. A country song came to mind, along with the image of a certain newly-married country singer.

“Yes, ma’am, it is, so let’s see what we can do to get you on your way.” He soon confirmed what I’d known all along, that my car wasn’t going anywhere under its own power. I watched in silent misery as he hooked it up to the back of his truck, wondering what Kurt would think when I didn’t show for dinner. I wasn’t distracted enough to miss the competent way my rescuer moved, the bunching of his muscles, the smooth roll of his hips as he worked. The man might not look like a tow truck driver, but he knew the drill.

I gathered my things together, limped over to the truck, and tried to hoist myself up into the passenger seat. He appeared beside me, offering strong, gentle assistance. I’d have appreciated it more if the slit in my stupid dress had left me a smidgen more modesty. I caught a quick glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror, confirming my worst fears. With my soggy hair hanging down around my shoulders, I resembled a stray cat left too long out in the rain. Huddling in my wretchedness, I gave the man directions to an auto repair shop near where I lived, figuring I’d walk home from there. Repeated calls to Kurt’s cell had gone unanswered, and at this point there wasn’t a whole lot more I could do.

“Where to now?” the Keith Urban lookalike inquired, after unloading my car in the parking lot of the repair shop.

“Home,” I said, avoiding his gaze. “But I can walk from here.”

He caught my arm as I reached for the door handle. “You can’t go home. You look much too pretty for that. Now, I know you had some special plans. Tell me where you were heading and I’ll see that you get there.”

Warmed by the man’s words, I felt a spark of hope in my chest. “I was meeting my boyfriend at Barnaby’s down by the harbor.”

“The harbor it is. Won’t take but a few minutes.”

I did my best to tidy up on the way, but it was mostly a lost cause. At least I could refresh my lipstick, but not only would I be late for our reservation—something Kurt abhorred—my special gift of wanting to look perfect for him was ruined. My anxiety grew as we drew up to the restaurant, along with my sense of failure. And then I saw something that snatched my breath and had me grabbing my chest in pain. No! It wasn’t possible! That couldn’t be Kurt in the shadow of the building, pressed up against a strange woman, devouring her with his kiss.
My companion, sensing my distress, hung a quick left and headed in the opposite direction. “You okay?” he asked, glancing sideways at me.

I couldn’t answer him. Didn’t trust myself to speak. Finally, I realized that the truck was no longer moving. My misery too much to contain, I threw open the door and climbed out. “Thanks for the ride,” I murmured, then trudged to the corner and stood there in a state of suspended disbelief. This won First Prize for the worst Valentine’s Day ever.

And then I felt a warm presence beside me, a gentle hand caressing my shoulder. “That guy back there? He’s a loser. Don’t waste another minute pining for him. You deserve a whole lot better.”

I huddled deeper into my jacket.

“Listen, my family owns a restaurant on the east side of town. Do you like Italian?”

I turned to face him. His sexy grin sent my stomach twirling. “But what about your job?”
“This isn’t my regular job, I’m just covering for a buddy of mine so he could take his wife out for Valentine’s Day. The shift ends at nine. What do you say? I can pretty much guarantee us a good table, and the food’s good.”

Gazing up into his golden brown eyes, it hit me that I was seeing something there I had never seen in Kurt’s—not in the three long years I had known him. Compassion, respect, gallantry. Kurt. The man I’d caught kissing another woman less than an hour after he was supposed to be meeting me for a romantic dinner.

You deserve a whole lot better. The stranger’s words echoed through my mind, and I suddenly realized that he was right. Holding out my hand, I gave him a tentative smile. “Thanks. I’d love to.”

Maybe this wasn’t going to be the worst Valentine’s Day ever after all.

Vicki Crum is a Connections Award Finalist, Paranormal for her manuscript A GLIMPSE OF ETERNITY. She is also a long time member, and volunteer, of OCC/RWA.