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Friday, April 5, 2013


Welcome to Tuesday Tales on Saturday! This is a continuation of my story, "Rescue My Heart" Thanks for stopping by. Don't forget to visit the other writers, click the link at the bottom.

“Was that a crack?” The skinny woman asked.
“What? No. Really, no.” Rory bit her lip to keep from smiling.
“Don’t be bothering Dr. Roberts with your trivia.”
Mary had retreated to a back room and now came out carrying Baxter. The pug barked and wagged his tail when he saw Rory. 
"Noisy dog," Felicia muttered.  
“Baxter!” Rory stroked his head. He licked her hand, then her face.
"No charge, Ms. Sampson,” Mary said.
“How am I going to get him home?”
“I’ll take you,” Hack piped up.
“Don’t you think that’s a little far to go?” Felicia asked.
“I live only three blocks away,” Rory piped up.
 Hack picked up Baxter, who struggled for a bit until he got comfortable. The doctor held the door for Rory with his free hand.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said to Mary.

Rory talked to the pug while she walked along with the tall man.
“Do you always talk to your dog?”
“He’s my muse, helps me write.”
“What do you write?”
“Romance stories.”
Hack found himself blushing yet couldn’t figure out why.
“I know what you think. Frankly, I don’t care.”
Her sharp tongue pissed him off. He glared at her, but she was too busy navigating her way around obstacles and talking to Baxter to pay attention to him. That disturbed him. The mirror told him he was an attractive guy. Square jaw, blue eyes, shiny brown hair, great build. Women flirted with him…at the coffee house, on the subway, everywhere.
But Rory, didn’t pay him any mind and it irked him. He glanced at her, giving her the once over. She had a great body, what he could see of that wasn't hidden by her sling and baggy shorts. Nice rack, something a man could get a grip on. And her bottom…nicely rounded. A small tingle shot up his fingers at the thought of giving it a squeeze. Before he could begin to undress her with his eyes, they were in her tiny, studio apartment.
“Where’s the bedroom?” he asked.
“You’re standing in it. One room fits all.” She put down her purse and keys.
Hack laid Baxter down gently on the beige faux suede sofa and sat next to the animal. He examined him briefly. Rory was filling a small bowl with water. She placed it next to Baxter’s food dish.  The little pug struggled to get off the sofa so Hack lifted him down. The dog, leg in splint, clunked over to his water bowl and took a drink. Rory sank down on a wing chair and sighed. Rapid blinking kept her tears at bay.
“I can’t even dress myself without help.”
Her dark blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail was thick with a slight curl. Her eyes were large and light blue, almost translucent.
“I’m a master at unhooking a bra,” he snickered.
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Yeah? And I’m a master at neutering,” she glanced at her watch. “Why don’t you get back to that beanpole you call your fiancée.”

Monday, April 1, 2013


Thanks for stopping by. I'm continuing my new story this week, entitled RESCUE MY HEART. As of last week, Rory was on her way to the hospital after being hit by a bike in Central Park. To connect with the talented Tuesday Tales writers, click on the link on the bottom.

         Rory left the hospital with a prescription for pain medicine, a large hospital bill, and her broken left arm in a sling. A kind man flagged a taxi for her. She gave the driver the address on Dr. Roberts’ card.
      The car pulled up to the Manhattan Animal Clinic and Rory got out. She was feeling weak after the accident and not having eaten all day. She managed get through the door and up to the front desk.
“Dr. Roberts, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?” The older woman behind the desk asked.
“No. He has my dog.”
“Has you dog?”
Rory checked the badge the lady wore and learned her name. “Yes, Mary. Baxter, the pug he ran over in the park today?”
“Oh, oh. Yes. Just a moment.” Mary smiled at her and picked up the phone.
A minute later, Hack Roberts came around the corner.
“Hello, Ms…uh, Ms…Aurora?”
“Ms. Sampson. Where’s Baxter? How is he?”
“You and Baxter have a lot in common, Ms. Sampson. Baxter has a broken leg and you look like you broke your arm. Not your funny bone, I trust.”
“Nothing funny about it. I didn’t break my arm, you broke it for me with your damned, bike.” Anger seethed in her chest. “Is that all that’s wrong with Baxter.”
“Yes, Baxter was a very lucky pug.”
“When can I take him home?”
“Right now. By the way, bring me the hospital bill when you get it.”
“I have it right here.” Rory pushed the papers at him.
“I’ll take care of it.” He took the papers and stuffed them into his pants pocket.
“Damn right you will. But what about my life? I’m a writer and I walk dogs. Now I can’t do either.”
“That’s not my problem. If you hadn’t stepped in front of my bike…”
“Stepped in front of your bike? If you had been going the proper speed and stopped at the light…”
“It’s all water under the bridge now, Ms. Sampson. I guess you’ll have to figure out how to get along. I can’t be responsible for your life.”
A tall, extremely thin woman wearing a short dress, very black, very short hair, too much eye makeup and an attitude approached. She looked over Rory with a disdainful eye.
“Who the hell are you?” the woman asked, directing her words to Rory but her gaze at Hack.
“She’s the woman who got in the way of my bike in the park this morning.”
“Really? Scruffy…”
“I came right from the hospital to pick up my dog.” Rory tried to smooth out her blood-stained shirt with one hand.
“Eww. Please. Get your dog and be done.”
“This is Felicia Adams, my fiancée.”
Rory raised an eyebrow at the woman and muttered under her breath. “Is that a woman or an ironing board?” 
Please leave a comment. I'd love feedback on my story. Thanks.