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Excerpt:
After a day, he began to feel better. He could breathe more easily even though he was still on oxygen. Once, when he’d woken, he’d found a card from his father, and one from his captain at the station, but other than that, he saw no signs of any visitors. He figured they were waiting until he got better.
He was wrong. The only person he saw other than the nurses and doctors was his father, and his visits were never pleasant.
“So after this, are you going to give up this fireman thing and get a real job? You have a degree. I could get you a job on my team at the brokerage,” his father told him in his usual “I know best” voice. “I’ll start the paperwork for when you get out of here.”
“I don’t…,” Dirk began, but he started to cough, and it got worse and worse. A nurse hurried in and gave him something to calm the spasms, and he collapsed back into the bed, his injured arm aching and his chest hurting like hell. “Can’t we just sit and talk?” Dirk asked, and his father looked at him like he’d asked for the moon.
“I have to be back in the office in half an hour,” his father told him, and Dirk nodded.
Then his father left the room, and Dirk hadn’t had a visitor since. That had been two days ago, three days since he’d awakened, and almost a week since the fire.
As the days went by, he fumed at everyone who walked into his room. He heard the nurses talking about him once in the hallway, but he really didn’t care. He spent most of his days watching television—he couldn’t get out of bed except to go to the bathroom, and it hurt to fucking breathe. This was definitely no picnic! After swearing away yet another nurse, he found himself with Brunhilda, the sadistic nurse from hell, and that did nothing for his mood or his sense of misery. The woman seemed to live to poke him with needles, and a sponge bath from her could make prisoners spill their guts in two minutes flat. “You should work for the CIA,” he told her as she scraped yet more skin off him, but she just grunted and paid no attention to him at all.
After that torture ended, Dirk lay watching television, feeling sorry for himself. His lungs still hurt, but only when he took a deep breath. The doctor had told him that they were hopeful he’d return to normal and that his lungs were aching because they were healing. “Just give it time,” he’d said before leaving.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dirk saw movement in his doorway and steeled himself for another visit from Brunhilda. Instead, he saw what looked like a brick wall casting a shadow carrying flowers in a plastic fire helmet. “You Dirk Krause?” the man asked and slowly stepped into the room, like he was nervous, setting the planter on the tray.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Dirk answered. “Who the hell are you?” The kid might have been huge, but he had a definite baby face, and he looked young as shit.
“Lee Stockton. I’m the new man on third shift, and the guys asked me to bring you the flowers,” the kid said pleasantly, and Dirk watched him shuffle from foot to foot trying to figure out what to say next. “The other guys have been really busy.”
“I’ll bet.” Dirk shifted on the bed, looking at the huge kid. “You draw the short straw or something?” Dirk had no time or use for a pity plant in a cheap bit of plastic that the guys probably had the kid pick up on his way over. “’Cause you’re the first damned guy from the company to visit. So you’ve done your job, and you can go now.” Dirk turned away and waited to hear the kid walk out of the room.
“You really are the biggest asshole on the planet,” the kid said, his voice deeper, and when Dirk turned to look at him, the kid’s eyes blazed. “I didn’t believe them when they told me what a dickhead you could be. But, boy, they weren’t kidding. Two minutes, and you were already acting like an ass. That must be some kind of record. No wonder none of the other guys wanted to come up here.” The kid moved to the side of the bed, and Dirk got a good look at him. The kid’s shirt barely held in his muscles, and when he moved his arm, it looked like the damned shirt was going to rip anytime.
“Well, fuck ’em all,” Dirk said. He wanted to yell, but when he took the breath, his lungs reminded him of their condition by shooting pain down his chest. If they didn’t want to see him, he didn’t want to see those assholes, either. The kid didn’t say anything. He just stared at Dirk like he was from another planet, and then his gaze heated, and Dirk squirmed a little, actually checking to make sure he was covered up. “What’s wrong with you? You some sort of fag?” His arm was throbbing, and his lungs ached with this talking, and he wasn’t in the mood for any crap. He expected the kid’s look to shift to something approaching pity, and he was having none of that.
It had been his experience that whenever anyone was asked that question, they backed away fast, but the kid took a step closer to the bed with an unreadable look on his face. “You seem to have me mistaken with some sort of fucking doormat. I came down here ’cause no one else would visit your sorry ass, and this is the thanks I get. What are you doing calling people names and shit?” Lee took another step closer and stared straight into his eyes, which made Dirk squirm, especially since the kid was freakin’ huge. “Anyone ever tell you not to poke the bear?” Lee said with a growl. “Because you’re damned close.” Lee continued stepping closer until he practically loomed over him. “Why are you such an asshole, anyway? You know what I think?” Lee leaned over the bed, uncomfortably close for Dirk. “I think you’re one fucking huge closet case. I’ve met plenty of guys like you before. You’re fucking miserable, and you make everyone around you pay for it. Well, I saw the way you looked at me, like I was dinner and you wanted to eat me whole. And don’t think for a second you’re ever going to get that chance, because I may fuck ass, but I don’t fuck closet-case assholes like you.”
“What the fuck, man?” Dirk managed to say as he pushed Lee away with his good hand.
“Hey, I see right through you. There’s no hiding. I know a closet case a mile away, and I knew you were gay after being in the room for two seconds. You took one look at me, and I saw the way your eyes bulged and your mouth watered.”
“Little full of yourself, aren’t you?” Dirk pushed harder on Lee’s chest, and damn if he didn’t run up against a mountain of pure American muscle. “Now get the hell away from me. You don’t know shit about shit.” Dirk was more than a little uncomfortable, and Lee’s words were hitting way too close to home.
“I don’t, huh. You got yourself half a hard-on just thinking about me, and those sheets are thin enough that you really can’t hide nothing. So you can cut the bullshit and stop being such an asshole. Now, I brought you your fucking flowers and did what I said I was going to do. You’ll probably be in here for a while yet and at home for even longer, so I suggest you use that time to think about why you’re here all alone and nobody wants to visit your sorry ass.” Lee stepped back and looked toward the door. When he looked back, there was something in Lee’s eyes that Dirk couldn’t read at all. “See you around, closet case.”
“I am not!” Dirk countered, and he really paid for that one as his lungs protested.
Lee turned back to him, and Dirk thought he was going to leave, but he waited for Dirk’s coughing to subside, and then he moved close to the bed again. Dirk thought Lee was going to berate him again, but instead he leaned over the bed and planted a kiss on Dirk’s lips. This was no soft girly kiss, but one hard and strong, with Lee taking possession of Dirk’s mouth as though they’d been kissing forever. Fuck his lungs, the pain in his arms, and everything else. Dirk felt himself go instantly and painfully hard right then and there as his entire body reacted to Lee’s touch. Lee moved his tongue to duel with his, and Dirk lost as Lee took what he wanted in almost every way. Damn, he felt good, and Dirk’s body knew what it wanted and overrode his mind. Suddenly and without warning, Lee pulled back and stepped away from the bed. “Bullshit,” Lee said and strode out of the room without looking back at all.
Country singer Willie Meadows is a fake. He’s never ridden a horse, and his “Western” gear comes from a boutique shop in LA. No wonder Wilson Edwards, the real man in those fake boots, is suffering creative block. Determined to connect with the music, Wilson buys a ranch in Wyoming to learn the country way of life, even if he has no intention of running the business. Then Steve Peterson shows up desperate, destitute, and hungry, having just escaped a gay deprogramming hospital run by his father’s cult.
Steve was supposed to train horses for the ranch’s former owner, but the job is gone along with his would-be employer. Luckily Wilson has a temporary solution: Steve can ranch-sit while Wilson does business in LA. But when he comes back, Wilson barely recognizes the place. There are trained horses in the paddock, and the ranch is in great shape. Suddenly he finds himself inspired not by the cowboy lifestyle but by Steve himself.
But the cult is still after Steve, and Wilson’s fear of scandal means he’s still in the closet. Coming out could kill Willie’s career—but denying his feelings for Steve could kill the only part of him that’s real.
Dirk Krause is an asshole of the first degree. His life is a hell of his own making, and he makes everyone around him just as miserable. When he’s injured on the job while fighting a fire, he’s nearly unbearable to the hospital staff, and of course no one from his unit cares enough to visit.
Lee Stockton is the new guy at the station, so he gets saddled with the job of bringing Dirk a sympathy bouquet from the guys at the firehouse. To Dirk’s surprise, Lee sees through him like a pane of glass and doesn’t take any of his crap. Lee’s determined to get Dirk to stop being a dick just to push everyone away. When their fighting turns to fucking, will the fireworks shine brightly on a possible relationship or leave them with nothing but ashes?
Add it to your Dreamspinner Press Wish List: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/p
Dawn at Dawn's Reading Nook gave Legal Tender 5 Stars and a Recommended Read.
Dawn said: Andrew Grey has another winner in Legal Tender and I am eager to see if he continues the Art series with another story int he future with a few other crossovers from the Bottled Up Series. If you enjoy emotional filled stories that steal your heart and are full of complex characters, then grab an Andrew Grey story and settle in for a day of reading pleasure. I highly recommend reading the entire series from Bottled Up series to it's spin-off, The Art Series, to get familiar with everyone in this wonderful world the author created.
Read the entire review: http://dawnsreadingnook.blogspot.com/201
Timothy left home when he was eighteen to get away from his reckless mother, but he never stopped visiting his grandfather, who taught him what love was all about. Now that Grampy has passed away, Timothy finds that the old man's legacy is everything Timothy has dreamed of—and more.
Inside the house Timothy loves so much is a cache of coins with historical value… and a mystery, because one of them isn’t supposed to exist. In memory of his grandfather, Timothy sets out to make sure that the mystery and the coins are given their due honor. In his quest to keep the government from confiscating his grandfather’s legacy, he meets Joiner, whose interest in Timothy is as clear and open as Timothy is guarded. There are things about Timothy's life and his past he doesn't want anyone to know, not even the kind man who is helping him with the complications of legal tender.
Timothy left home when he was eighteen to get away from his reckless mother, but he never stopped visiting his grandfather, who taught him what love was all about. Now that Grampy has passed away, Timothy finds that the old man's legacy is everything Timothy has dreamed of—and more.
Inside the house Timothy loves so much is a cache of coins with historical value… and a mystery, because one of them isn’t supposed to exist. In memory of his grandfather, Timothy sets out to make sure that the mystery and the coins are given their due honor. In his quest to keep the government from confiscating his grandfather’s legacy, he meets Joiner, whose interest in Timothy is as clear and open as Timothy is guarded. There are things about Timothy's life and his past he doesn't want anyone to know, not even the kind man who is helping him with the complications of legal tender.
cheerful
bouncy