Welcome to this addition of Wednesday Briefs! I have to say that I’m very excited about this story. You will probably cuss me, but I’m only going to share a small portion as I plan to submit the story for publication (yep, I’m that happy with it).
The idea for this story started last week. I didn’t have the chance to write it then, but the prompts that inspired me were the Tour de France and having a character ride a motorcycle. All kinds of possibilities with those, right? *evil grin* This week’s prompts appear later in the story. Trust me, they are there *wink*
For some quick background, one of my WIPs is My Handsome Vampire. Rhys Cornwall, a wolf shifter, has a brief appearance in that story. He intrigued me, and without writing a full novel, I wanted to give Rhys a chance to shine – and more importantly, I wanted to give him some lovin’ with an incredible partner. This snippet doesn’t capture Rhys’s entry, but I’m hoping you’ll like Jensen and imagine the possibilities these two guys have together.
My Rugged Rescuer
Jensen shoved the empty energy gel packet into his jersey pocket before shifting into an easier gear. This was the last climb before he hit the twisting descent that would take him back toward Ruidoso. He glanced at his handlebar-mounted GPS computer and grinned. At the pace he was pedaling, he would set a personal record for this forty-mile loop. Even though his legs burned with exertion, he stood on the pedals and pushed harder, tackling the first switchback.
He couldn’t imagine a better way to start the day. The mountains seemed fresh and alive after last night’s thunderstorm. The sun shone brightly this morning, taking the chill out of the air. Jensen’s position as attorney and liaison to the Monjeau Pack and its alpha, Carson Raney, allowed him the freedom to ride pretty much whenever the mood struck. Today, in particular, he needed the crisp, pine-scented mountain air to clear his head.
The past week had been draining. A small group of normally lone wolves had banded together to challenge the Monjeau Pack’s exclusive right to the use of Lincoln National Forest. The Monjeau Pack had lived and worked in the Ruidoso-Alamagordo area for nearly a hundred years. Since they were one of the larger packs who lived west of the Mississippi River, they had developed a unique, symbiotic relationship with the residents of Ruidoso and the surrounding communities. Although these lone wolves tried intimidation and smear tactics throughout the hearing, Judge Adams ruled in favor of the Monjeau Pack. Judge Adams also informed these wolves that they needed to play nice or move on. Needless to say, they left the courthouse a moment before being arrested for contempt. The Monjeau Pack hoped that was the last they would hear of the lone wolves. Jensen wasn’t convinced. The older, self-proclaimed leader of the losing wolves seemed to be the type to hold a grudge.
Jensen’s legs protested loudly, a cramp threatening in his right quad. He took a swig of his energy drink in hopes of jolting his quivering muscles into one final burst of power. This steepest switchback was the last one before the summit and the blessed descent that awaited him. Jensen’s lean build gave him an advantage when it came to climbing, but his personal preference was descending. One of the pack’s wolves had custom made his bike. It was truly a work of art – one that fit him perfectly and performed exceptionally well.
Gritting his jaw, he once again stood in the pedals. The bike responded, smoothly gaining ground, eating up the road under his tires. Almost there . . . almost there . . . keep going . . . almost there. The summit came into view at the same time the sounds of a pick-up truck needing a new exhaust system reached his ears. The thing sputtered and coughed, likely spewing all kinds of pollution into the atmosphere. Jensen mentally cursed the rednecks. He didn’t need to be gulping in mouthfuls of polluted air. He considered his body a finely tuned machine and made sure to take care of it – not only with exercise but with eating organic and natural foods. He quickly wiped the sweat trickling down his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. Almost there . . . Not going to let the stupid truck ruin the moment.
Mind and body so in tune with conquering the last ten feet of the climb without dropping into his granny gear, Jensen missed the squeal of tires as the truck accelerated.
Please keep your fingers crossed that this story makes it into an anthology. Jensen has stolen my heart, and Rhys, well Rhys has always been one of my favorite hotties!
Now that you’ve finished reading my flash, be sure to check out stories from the other Wednesday Briefers!