Bonjour. It’s November, and it’s a month that has so much happening for so many. For YouTubers, it’s Nonstop November, where creators aim to post videos daily. In the sporting world, it’s No Shave November where the men are allowing their beards to grow. And then, I heard of No Sex November. I’m not sure of who’s participating in that—I mean what group of people developed it—but it’s happening. Additionally, for many of my fellow writers, it’s National Novel Writing Month, also, known as NaNoWriMo or NaNo, that has a goal of writing a 50,000-word novel by the end of the month.  I’m sure there are so many more, but the final one I’m going to mention is the media trend of posting daily what is thankful for, especially here in the United States, where many people are preparing to celebrate Thanksgiving—well, that is, the people who didn’t jump from Halloween to Christmas. Granted, my social media presence has been lacking from some platforms, but thus far, I have not been seeing many Thirty Days of Thanks posts. I imagine for many people, that is hitting very differently this year.  It’s hitting me differently, too. That’s why today will be a different kind of post for me, but hopefully one that is found to be uplifting and inspiring.

On January 1, 2020, when people where celebrating the ringing in of the new year and making resolutions to follow their hearts’ desires, I don’t believe anyone knew the swift kick in the teeth the year was bringing with it. I can’t speak for other countries, but I know here in the US where people are used to doing nearly anything (legal) that they want, being told what to do on a large scale by the government was shock. Our go-go nature was dumped in timeout, and people had no idea what they were supposed to do sequestered in their home for weeks. Face it, I live in the south, and we get antsy when we have to spend a day inside because of hurricanes. (We throw parties during that time, BTW). And, oh my gosh, it was not just having to remain sheltered-in-place, it was that what we normally do inside was gone, too. For a culture that binge watches, many of us flew threw Hulu and Netflix in no time. Resources become like a forge. Mask-wearing was viewed as something from a B-film Sci-Fi. People lost their jobs and homes. Education became a nightmare. People got sick and died. And politically… Whew! Now, eleven months in, and it is no surprise to me that some people are struggling to find a happy or thankful place. But there have been some shining spots in 2020, and that’s what I will focus on today.

1. Woke culture.

I’m one of those people who can walk through life, and if something does not bother or affect me, I will not notice. I think most people are like this, and that’s not a criticism. It’s human nature. Again, I live in the south. I do not on a regular think about how to react in a blizzard. Likely, I define and would behave differently in a snowstorm than persons who live in areas where winter is actually a thing. I mean, if there are snow flurries here, chances are, businesses are going to close. Now, I know that seems laughable to many, but why would southerners spend a lot of time thinking and preparing for icy conditions when it happens once every five years or so? We don’t know how to drive in it because we do not have an opportunity to practice. Most of us do not have the proper clothes for it because our coats are made for fashion and not warmth. Currently, the temperature outside is seventy-three degrees, and for us, that’s getting a bit chilly. I can count on both hands the number of times in my life that there has been one-inch or more snow in my yard and still have fingers left over.  So, I get it when Northerners laugh when Southerners freak out about snow flurries. The perspectives are different.

I think woke culture, which some people criticize for being too thinned-skinned, is nothing more than the intention of viewing a situation or event from a different perspective or point of view. It is a call to be objective and instead of subjective. It’s going beyond our small box of a world and showing empathy and compassion to others around us. How many times during an argument in relationships does one partner want the other partner to agree with him/her? The disagreement has sparked because of two varying points of view most times. Stepping back and considering from a different angle does not mean that one will agree, change positions, or diminish his/her morality. All it does is allow a person to stand a moment in another person’s shoes to understand that their feelings are valid to them. They are entitled and have a right to how they feel. And their feelings are independent to your feelings and have nothing to do with you. How does a wife feel when she attempts to communicate with her husband that she does not feel appreciated by him and he brushes her off with a “you’re being silly” or “get over it”? He might even shove in her face something that he has done for her in the past and insist that she be appreciative that he did it for her and attempt to make her feel guilty or belittled for asking for more? That’s the same in woke culture. It’s not asking a person to change. It’s asking for awareness, acknowledgement, and respect.

I think 2020 has been a year of wokeness for many. I for one had my eyes opened about a lot. Two of the biggest areas that I’ve come to learn about has been the struggle of Indigenous people and the treatment of the transsexual community. These were things that I had never heard discussed and was not aware that existed. I’m not around people who were affected by these issues. But once I heard them mentioned, I stopped to listen and learn. I’d assumed things that weren’t factual. And instead of arguing to hold steadfast the beliefs I’ve been taught, I grew quiet and opened myself to take in new information. Am I an expert now? No. Do I understand everything? No. Do I still have much to learn? Yes. Am I willing to learn those things? Yes.

When I write, I write with love. I write with the belief that true love exists. I write with the hope of bringing smiles and happiness to readers. To be able to do that, I need to understand people and multiple points of views. For me, twenty-twenty has been humbling. I have experienced human growth in ways I could not have imagined. And I don’t believe I’m alone in this. I have watched some of my closest friends grow as well.  Hopefully, this growth will be seen in my writing and in my acts as a person. I always strive to better my craft. But on a personal level, I strive to be a better person—a better friend, daughter, sibling, parent, and neighbor.

2. Productivity

I’ve watched dozens of videos of people completing home improvement projects or taking on life goals. People who lost their jobs spent their time doing the things that they have been postponing indefinitely. They now had time to clean out the garage or convert the basement into a media area. They had timing to put together a shelving unite or finally organize and catalog the items in their collections. Some had time to research their family history or write the novel they’ve been wanting to write their entire lives. Others reconnected with their families. A friend confessed to me that he had re-fallen in love with his wife during the pandemic. “I knew I loved her, but I think over the last ten years, I had forgotten why. Being at home with her and our children every day around the clock for three months reminded me not only why I fell in love with her but deepened my love and appreciation.” I beefed up my writing game. Another friend, who lives across the street from his parents, stated that he and his father finished restoring a car his father had purchased more than twenty years ago. “It sat in the garage as his ‘project’ and has always been a source of conflict between him and mother. Especially when they would argue, he would lock himself in the garage for hours and tinker with it. Us kids were never allowed to touch it. He’s owned it for as long as I could remember. I had to have been a toddler when he bought it. I’m now 42, and he and I completed it a couple of weeks ago. It allowed me to get to know my father on a completely different level, and we got a cool car out of it.”

3. Creativity

I believe many people may have overlooked the role creativity has played during this pandemic. People have had to develop and devise ways to handle problems that they have never had before. Persons who lost their jobs have found other means of income. Some have allowed their artistic sides to bloom. Reflecting back to March when the news media was advising everyone not to wear masks because they would worsen the situation. Now, there is much debate about who put that information out there and why, but that’s not to point here. The point I am attempting to make is that by the time the public had been instructed mask-wearing would help slow (not prevent) the spread and suppress the curve of cases, there were no masks available for purchase. So many people with sewing skills took to making masks. Some made businesses out of it or vastly grew their small business. No one has released the numbers, but it is evident that mask-masking is a lucrative business, as mask-wearers want to express their personality in this 2020 accessory. I suppose some people enjoy wearing masks regardless of the reason why. For a great many others, though, I believe that since they have found themselves in this situation, they have simply found a way to make it a little more tolerable.

4. Progression

A coworker who is near seventy years old used a computer for the first time two months ago. She had avoided it, and the company had never pressured her to conform. She continues to do everything by hand. Any document that is electronic, someone must print it for her. Vehemently, she rejected change, and her stubbornness slowed the progress of her coworkers at times. However, a conference changed things. She needed to renew her professional license, and since all in-person conferences had been suspended, she was forced to do cyber attendance like the rest of us. What she found is that she didn’t like it, but it wasn’t as terrible as she’d expected. While it’s done little to convince her to change her ways or venture into the millennium, it has allowed her to see how her nonconformity makes it difficult for her other coworkers—not that she cares. However, she now remains silent when someone complains about her because she realizes her coworkers’ complaints are valid and have merit. Plus, she also recognizes that she now must tread lightly. Since she’s had some computer training, if she continues to upset coworkers, their complaints may be loud enough for administration to order that she comply with the same procedures as everyone else. She can no longer use the excuse that she does not know how. She knows very little about the computer, but she has demonstrated her ability to learn.

Another coworker stated that she was hoping to travel one day. Currently, she does not have the finances, and she contends that she may never earn enough to travel out of the country. In fact, she does not believe this will ever be possible for her. However, it is a dream, and as a dream she decided to work towards it in small ways that she can afford. One way is by learning a foreign language. She has downloaded apps that teach you to speak another language and listens to them in her spare time or while she is commuting to and from work. She admits that her progress has been slow but that she definitely knows more than when she began. Sometimes, achieving small goals can be as satisfying as reaching larger ones.

5. Experimentation

This one I found to be so much fun. People let their guards down and began attempting things they’d never done before. Take a look at TikTok and how many people joined during the pandemic. People who would barely pose for family photos were encouraged and branched out to do dancing challenges. People laughed at themselves and opened up to just have fun. Some looked at the pandemic as the pre-apocalypse and decided to begin checking off items on their bucket lists. People adopted the attitude, if this is the end, why wait any longer? Therefore, they began experimenting and trying new things.

6. Maintaining

While much of the focus has been on losses and gains, some people are very thankful for maintaining what they have. Although they haven’t had it easy, so many people are grateful that they have not been as effected by 2020 as others have been. Essential employees may have had to pull longer hours for the same pay and risk exposure to the virus more than others, but many are thankful to have been able to maintain their homes and livelihoods. They’ve taken everything in stride by taking recommended CDC precautions to keep themselves safe.

A YouTube content creator stated that her life has been minimally affected by the pandemic because she’s an introvert, used to living alone and working from home. Before shelter-in-place was an ordnance implemented by her city, she was already having most of her meals delivered and remaining in her home.

These are just a few of the ways that the year 2020 has not been a complete bomb and failure of a year. While there is a tendency to see all the things that have been troubling or traumatic this year, there have been some promising things to happen as well.

What good have you found in 2020? What are you thankful for this year? What are you doing this November? Will you be celebrating Thanksgiving?

Ice Gladiators

And also, don’t forget to pick up a copy of my new steamy romance, Ice Gladiators, guaranteed to melt the ice. It’s the third book in my sports romance Locker Room Love series.

Taz has problems: a stalled career, a coach threatening to destroy him, a meddling matchmaking roommate, and a thing for his other roommate’s boyfriend. The first three are manageable, but the last… well, that’s complicated. Because as much as Taz is attempting not to notice Liam, Liam is noticing him. Grab your copy of Ice Gladiators at https://amzn.to/2TGFsyD or www.books2read.com/icegladiators.

Missed the first two books in my sports romance series? No frets. Out of the Penalty Box, where it’s one minute in the box or a lifetime, out is available at https://amzn.to/2Bhnngw. It also can be ordered on iTunes, Nook, or Kobo. Visit www.books2read.com/penalty.

Defending the Net can be ordered at www.books2read.com/defending. Crossing the line could cost the game.

Locker Room Love is a steamy standalone gay romance/ MM romance series revolving around professional hockey players. Set primarily in the Cajun and Creole bayous of south Louisiana, these love stories have a diverse cast of characters. These sexy athletes are discovering their own voice and the best romance of their lives, even if that isn’t their intention. Find tales of friends to lovers, enemies to loves, billionaires, bad boys, forbidden romance, first times, gay for you, and more. These alpha males are guaranteed to work up a sweat and melt the ice.

For more of my stories, shenanigans, giveaways, and more, check out my blog, Creole Bayou, www.genevivechambleeconnect.wordpress.com. New posts are made on Wednesdays (with bonus posts sometimes on Mondays), and everything is raw and unscathed. Climb on in a pirogue and join me on the bayou.

If you have any questions or suggestions about this post or any others, feel free to comment below or tweet me at @dolynesaidso. You also can follow me on Instagram at genevivechambleeauthor or search me on Goodreads or Amazon Authors or BookBub.

Until next time, happy reading and much romance. Keep safe.

A true story, so you know romance authors aren’t just born, we’re “well-lived” too! 🙂

In late Fall 1979, I was living in Germany, having been assigned as a newly “hatched” communications officer to a battalion in Heilbronn, Germany. I’d been there maybe a month, had unpacked and settled into my BOQ, and the week before I’d made the trip to Bremerhaven to pick up my car from the port. It was a metallic midnight-blue Ford Pinto (yes, a Pinto!). Having no friends at that point to hang with, I decided I’d take a drive by myself and explore. I headed to nearby Stuttgart to do some sightseeing and window shopping.

That day, I dressed in a dark maroon button-down blouse, golden corduroy trousers, leather boots and a brown leather trench. With my Farrah Fawcett blonde hair all blown out, I looked good. I’d finished some shopping and was heading back to the car park to head home. As I strode down the sidewalk, this tall, very handsome man dressed in a black turtleneck, a black jacket and trousers, with swarthy skin and black, shaggy hair (I pegged him as Italian or Greek) passed me.

I gave him a nod and kept going. Then out of curiosity, I glanced back. He’d stopped in the sidewalk and was looking back at me. We shared another nod then he walked toward me.

He said something that ended with “English.”

I shook my head. “American.”

I pointed at him, and he said, “Griechisch (Greek).”

We both looked at the coffeeshop to our side. He said something in German (this was before I’d immersed myself in German language classes, so I only knew a few words), but I could tell he was inviting me for a coffee. Again, I nodded.

Inside, I let him order for us. Two coffees with  pastries.

For an hour, we had a very stilted conversation but remained all smiles because it was fun.

He asked me something about America.

I assumed he was asking me where I was from in America. “Arkansas. It’s near Texas.”

He grinned, twirled his hand over his head, and said, “Yahoo!”

I laughed and nodded.

When I pointed at him, and asked him where in Greece he was from, he said, “Marathónas.”

I thought for a second then pumped my arms like I was running. “Marathon.”

His eyes perked up, because he realized I knew a bit about his country’s history and the legend of Pheidippides running from the plain of Marathon to Athens to let them know the Greeks had defeated the Persians—the inspiration for the marathon race. (I was a history major. 🙂 )

Anyway, we continued to mime throughout our conversation. When we both rose, we shook hands and he held mine for a long moment and said something.

What? I have no clue, but when we both left the coffeeshop, we headed in opposite directions. And yes, I did look back. But so did he.

Oh, and the picture is not from Stuttgart. The area of the city I was in was more modern-industrial looking, but I like this depiction of Germany because you can find so many beautiful places just like this…

My dd and SIL spent the past two days painting a basement room and moving furniture to create a quiet space I can work in. My dd organized everything because she knows if she left things in boxes I’d dither and doodle and never get anything put away. Here are a couple of pics (terrible ones because I’m a horrible photographer!).

They left me room for more pictures on the wall. That wall will likely be filled soon, floor to ceiling. The desk is a made for two people, so the 7-year-old put her art books and Crayola pens in her drawer for when she comes to “work” with me.

My bookcase is cram-jammed. The center one is all my books. DD says I have to do something about trimming them down. And I will, because I need more toys on the shelves. 🙂 The tubs on the left still have to be emptied, but that’s for another day.

So, what do you think? Will I get any work done here?

Open Contests

Enter while you still can!

1. How I feel today. How about you? (Puzzle-Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
2. Flashback: Before We Kiss (Contest–3 winners!) — Win a FREE book!
3. REINA TORRES: FREE! LOVE IN LOCKDOWN — SUBLET, PART 4 — EVERYONE! Get your FREE story!
4. Moving Day (Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!

UPDATE: The winners are…Delaine, Colleen C., and Ani!
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It’s early. One of my dd’s many cats is snoring under my desk. He’s “Black Cat”. The kids had tried to stick the name “Ninja” on him years ago, but Black Cat stuck. He’s the most unfriendly cat I’ve ever interacted with, which is cool by me. He sleeps in a little cat bed I put under my desk, comes and goes like a ghost, and once in a blue moon he’ll rub against my legs, looking for me to scratch behind his ears before he disappears using his Ninja-cat stealth to stay out of sight.

I wonder how he’s going to like the changes.

We’ve been playing hopscotch with rooms in the house. My aunt moved back to Washington State, freeing up her garage apartment, so my oldest granddaughter claimed the room. After painting and deep cleaning it, she moved. Then my grandson moved into her vacated, larger room. Yesterday, they repainted, deep-cleaned his old, smaller bedroom, preparing to return it to me… I have an office once again that isn’t crammed into a corner of the craft room! A place where I can close the door against kid noise and cats. Whee!

It’s early morning, so I’m posting my blog before everyone descends on my spaces. I have to hide Christmas gifts. And I guess I should start boxing up all the junk/treasures on my desk. I’m a kids’ toy hoarder with a growing collection of action heroes (because the kids give them to me!). My dd and SIL have soldiered on with all the movement from room to room, but they are especially dreading moving me—all those toys, that clutter, THOSE BOOKS.

I get to play the old lady card. And the “I have edema in my injured hand” card. Bwahaha! 🙂

Which means, lots and lots of stuff will be left in boxes for me to arrange, because no one understands there are “places” for my Norse god statuary, Bobbleheads, and Funko Pop Avenger figurines.

So, I’m looking for tips from you for how I go about reorganizing my reclaimed space. Comment for a chance to win the download of your choice from my backlist! I’ll choose 3 winners! 

Reina Torres is back with another installment of her short story series, Sublet! We have more stories coming!

Download your FREE copy of the latest installment of the Love in Lockdown story SUBLET!

What happens when two exes have to live in an apartment built for one?

Reina is back with installment #4 of her story, SUBLET! And she’s not finished yet! Enjoy! And have you subscribed to this blog? You might want to do that so you don’t miss a single story! More lockdown stories from more wonderful authors are on the way!

Follow this link!

UPDATE: Everyone’s a winner!
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I loved writing my Uncharted SEALs series. All those rugged, alpha heroes and strong heroines. Humor. Action. All the ingredients that make stories fun for me to write, and hopefully, fun for you to read.

With Uncharted SEALs, I experimented a bit. For the first time, I did sequels with the same characters—for the simple reason I couldn’t say goodbye to them. I wanted to see inside their Happy Ever Afters. Through Her Eyes and Between a SEAL and a Hard Place share the same main characters, as do Dream of Me and Heart of a SEAL. Big Sky SEAL gave birth to my Montana Bounty Hunters, introducing Jamie and Reaper, who as a result of their work in Big Sky earned their own satellite office of MBH.

A fun theme I used in two of the stories was a cruise ship. Both Before We Kiss and Hard SEAL to Love are set on the same ship, and have the same supporting characters. You’ll meet the crusty veterans who were part of those stories in the scene below. Hope you enjoy it!

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Click on the covers to learn more!

Contest

Win your choice of one of my Uncharted SEALs stories! There will be 3 winners! All you have to do to enter is answer me this…

POST COVID: If you could go anywhere in the world, what would be your cruise destination?

Before We Kiss

Navy SEAL, William “Wiley” Coyote, should have known his “piece of cake” assignment would go sideways in a hurry. But he’d been lured by the promise of an all-expenses-paid cruise. A nice “fluffy” assignment after the last one spent escorting freighters through pirate-infested waters in the Strait of Hormuz.

A general’s daughter, Poppy Shackleford, wasn’t some spoiled daughter of a man made famous for defeating insurgent forces. She’d endured her own tragedies—the loss of her mother when she was young and her father stationed in Afghanistan, and the loss of her fiancé after he’d sustained wounds in Iraq—not from the physical wounds that had claimed his two legs—he’d taken his own life. His death was why Poppy was involved in Soldiers’ Sanctuary, a non-profit that helped disabled soldiers adjust to their new circumstances. Her mission in life is to see that no veteran of war would ever feel so alone, so hopeless he’d choose her dead fiancé’s path. Which was why, despite the current threats against her father, she was on this cruise, assessing the ship’s ability to accommodate the soldiers rather than sending a surrogate.

However, the first threat doesn’t come from terrorists with an axe to grind. Mexican banditos stop her tour bus heading toward Mayan ruins to shake down the passengers for their money and belongings. When one snaps a picture of her, he soon figures out there’s a much bigger payday. She knows she’s going to be kidnapped, but she didn’t know someone was on that same tour bus who had her back.

Wiley’s unconventional takedown of her would-be kidnappers exposes the fact her father didn’t honor her wishes to fly under the radar. And now that the cat’s out of the bag, Wiley’s made it clear he’s moving into her suite for the rest of their time at sea to keep her out of harm’s way.

Excerpt from Before We Kiss…

William “Wiley” Coyote should have known the “piece of cake” assignment his team leader, Deke Warrick, offered him would go sideways in a hurry. But he’d been lured by the promise of an all-expenses-paid cruise. A nice “fluffy” assignment after the last one spent escorting freighters through pirate-infested waters in the Strait of Hormuz. He was due a vacation, and he’d envisioned slipping into a chaise on the cruise ship’s deck while his target sunbathed nearby. Something his team leader had warned him might not be in the cards. After all, Deke’d had a similar, simple assignment when he’d been tasked with protecting a girl. And look what it had gotten his buddy. Shot at. Then married. Happily, it seemed.

Not that Wiley had marriage on his mind. No, sir. Not him. Everything he owned was stuffed into a duffle bag. He lived in hotel rooms, tents, and, now, a cruise boat cabin. No, he had nothing to offer a bride. Marriage wasn’t something in his cards. And certainly not to some celebutante who couldn’t keep her picture off multiple social media sites on a daily basis. That sort of exposure, even by association, would be deadly in his line of business.

He’d listened intently when Deke outlined his assignment, determined to keep this job all business, despite the photos that had spilled from the envelope during his initial briefing.

“Every time she steps out of her suite, the room attendant will buzz you. You keep on her tail, but not close enough she notices. Her daddy said she’d raise hell if she knew he’d hired security after she refused a special detail.” At that point, Deke had grinned. “I think he’s a little afraid of her.”

Wiley hadn’t smiled. Instead, he’d grunted. General Shackleford wasn’t any lightweight desk-jockey. He’d seen his share of action.

The ship had barely left the Port of Miami before Wiley understood. The woman never stopped moving. Or talking. Sometimes loudly, if she didn’t like what she heard. If he could have worn earplugs, possibly his first impressions of her would have been very different.

Poppy Shackleford was a pretty little thing. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, lightly tanned, curves in all the right places. And maybe five-foot-two in her espadrille sandals. He’d had a girlfriend charge two pairs to his credit card years ago, so he knew darn well what they were and how much the cork-heeled things cost. Although he could appreciate the sexy curves the three-inch heels gave her toned calves, he wasn’t risking getting any closer. So far, he’d managed to operate under the radar. He had no doubts she’d know exactly what he was there to do if she got one good look at him. Nothing escaped her attention. Not the too-steep ramps leading onto the ship when they’d embarked. Nor the undercooked steak she’d been served last night in the dining room.

He’d begun to think she was deaf because she talked so loudly, but then he’d realized her complaints were on behalf of her fellow passengers, and this cruise had been billed as senior-themed. Most of the thousand passengers on board were over seventy. The dinner conversation surrounding him last night consisted of tracking blood sugar levels as his companions pricked their fingertips and fed droplets of blood into their readers. Afterwards, their conversation drifted to the best fiber to promote healthy bowels and where the captain would store their bodies if they happened to pass during the night.

“No kidding?” Deke had said after Wiley’s status update early that morning.

Wiley’s jaw ground shut at the snickering no hand over a receiver could muffle. “The Countess cruise line’s security seems pretty tight. Someone is always nearby, although they’re better at blending in than I am.”

“You mean you didn’t pack any Hawaiian shirts?”

“Don’t own one,” he’d gritted out.

“How are you keeping from blowing your cover?”

Wiley grunted. “I haven’t shaved, and I have on my cowboy hat and boots.”

“So you’re sticking out like a sore thumb.”

“She won’t expect a security detail to blend in quite like I do.”

Deke grunted. “Just remember you have people positioned around the ship. Channel two if you need them.”

Which would be great if his assignment was actually aboard the ship. The farther into the jungle their tour bus drove, the deeper his concern grew. They were on an excursion to view Mayan ruins. Anywhere along their route would be a great place for an ambush. The two security people provided by the cruise line to accompany his target were in good shape, but he could tell neither was armed. Conventional weapons were impossible to smuggle aboard the ship, and the weapons kept under lock and key aboard the vessel wouldn’t have been permitted for this little jaunt.

And why were they out here? If he remembered right, the pyramids weren’t exactly wheelchair-friendly. But he knew Poppy was thorough, that she took her tour coordinator job seriously. No stone would be left unturned. No tour unvetted, personally, by her.

He’d read the dossier Charter Group had put together. Poppy Shackleford, daughter of Lieutenant General Randall Shackleford, wasn’t some spoiled daughter of a famous man. She’d endured her own tragedies—the loss of her mother when she was young and her father stationed in Afghanistan, the loss of her fiancé after he’d sustained wounds in Iraq, although not from the physical wounds that had claimed both his legs. Frank Sutton, who’d been despondent over the loss, had killed himself.

His death was why Poppy was involved in Soldiers’ Sanctuary, a non-profit that helped disabled soldiers adjust to their new circumstances, whether supporting wounded vets with additional therapies the VA was slow or unable to provide, or seeking the latest in prosthetics and mobility devices. And the organization provided mentorship, one wounded soldier to another, to ensure no veteran of war would feel so alone, so hopeless, they’d choose Frank Sutton’s path.

Wiley understood and admired her for not simply crying then moving on, but embracing a cause that might help others. However, today he wished she wasn’t quite so determined to make it impossible for him to protect her. Not that she had a clue he was there. If she’d glanced toward the back of the air-conditioned bus, all she might have noted was one dark head amid a sea of white, gray, and blue.

The fellow seated next to him gave another narrow-eyed, flinty glance.

Wiley aimed a frown his way, hoping the old guy would mind his own business. The man was burly, surprisingly muscled for an old dude.

He leaned sideways in his seat and whispered, “Name’s Joseph Olinsky, but you can call me Joe. I’m a Marine.” He nodded toward the head of the bus where Poppy stood beside the tour guide, asking questions. “She someone important?”

Not as invisible as I thought. Wiley blinked. “No, sir. I think she’s just another passenger. A noisy one.”

Shaking his head, Joe grunted. “She has a detail. That guy with a clipboard ain’t a cruise director. I’d say he’s ex-Navy, probably a SEAL. Has a trident tattoo on his upper arm. Saw it when he was stowing her backpack into the overhead.”

Knowing there was no use convincing Joe he was just a guy on a trip to see a pyramid, Wiley gave him another look. He recognized the type—his dad had been the same steady, patriotic sort. Once a Marine, always a Marine. Maybe he did need backup, should shit go sideways. “You’re right,” he murmured. “The cruise line provided her security.”

“What about you?” his gray-haired companion asked.

“Name’s Wiley, and I was Navy.”

“A SEAL,” he said, nodding. “Can’t hide that look. Everyone else, besides her, has been taking a nap. Not you. You’ve been watching the road ahead. Expect trouble?”

“Not expecting, but prepared.”

Joe nodded. “Don’t get along as well as I used to,” he said, patting his right knee. “But I can be another set of eyes. And I do know who she is, son. She’s the daughter of that general ISIS wants taken out. They had his face and his daughter’s plastered all over Facebook faster than Homeland and the FBI could take down the pages.”

Wiley almost smiled at how in tune the old guy was. “Nothing much gets past you, does it?”

Joe lifted his chin toward two older gentlemen seated across the aisle from them.

Wiley glanced over to find both old codgers staring back.

“We were in the same division, the 3rd, during Vietnam. We’re all that’s left of our company. Try to take a trip every couple of years. Went to Nam five years back. There were eight of us then.”
Wiley nodded his understanding.

“That’s Morty,” he said, pointing at the thin one with a round belly. “The other one’s Sly.”

Sly gave him a grin that displayed unnaturally white teeth.

Wiley gave both men a nod then turned his attention back to the front of the bus.

“She know you’re tailing her?”

How had the old guys figured out he was there for Poppy? He remembered how the old men had jostled him, cutting him from the rest of the group when they’d boarded the bus. He’d thought it unintentional, but now knew they’d meant to be seated beside him. Admiring their cunning, he shook his head. “She doesn’t know. Not yet, anyway.”

“Need a better cover,” Joe said, eyeing his boots and the scruff on his chin. “Could tell folks you’re my grandson.”

Wiley chuckled. Sounded like a better plan than the one he’d started with. “Just don’t get in the way. If things go down…”

“You could use another set of eyes—between the three of us, we might just make one good pair.” Joe tilted his head toward his buddies.

This time, Wiley laughed.

Joe grinned and gave a slow nod to his companions, who settled back in their seats and now directed their attention to the job at hand—and the woman wearing the pretty blue dress at the front of the bus.

Suddenly, the bus shuddered and slowed. Cries arose from those seated near the front.

“Fat’s in the fire now,” Morty said, pointing forward.

Wiley cussed. A pickup was parked sideways in the middle of the road. He began to rise, but then he noted the four men standing in front of the truck. All dark, but with features that were clearly Mestizo. So, bandits rather than terrorists. He settled back in his seat. He’d let this play out a bit before he gave himself away. As long as no one was hurt, he’d keep his cover.

UPDATE: The winner is…Pansy Petal!
*~*~*

I have lots of ground to cover writing-wise and cleaning-my-office-mess-wise today! I’ll keep the election coverage playing in the background but can’t let it mess with my head today! So, here goes…

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