I can hardly
believe that a week from today,
UGLY DUCKLINGS FINISH FIRST is going to be released! It’s the introduction of Bitterthorn, Texas,
a small town with a big heart, where every person has a story and every smile
holds a secret. I can’t wait to share it
with everyone!
Payton and
Wiley’s story kicks it all off, and theirs is a relationship that’s been years
in the making. Payton, a certified
genius, was ordered to tutor BMOC Wiley so he wouldn’t be benched for poor
grades. Payton had it rough in high
school. She’d skipped a couple of grades, so she wasn’t as developed as her peers *cough*flat-chested*cough*. Add
to that a thick pair of glasses and some braces, and you’ve got yourself a
perfect target for every bully in town.
Wiley was
Payton’s only friend and champion while growing up, an adolescent hero complete
with blond hair and killer dimples. Was
it any wonder Payton secretly crushed on him?
But that was then, and this is now. Payton is back in town for their ten-year high school
reunion, and she's determined to show the town—and Wiley—that sometimes ugly
ducklings really do grow into beautiful swans.
Here’s the opening reunion
scene from UGLY DUCKLINGS FINISH FIRST:
The heavy pulse of music echoed off
Bitterthorn High School’s locker-lined walls. A scattering of people dressed in
suits and cocktail dresses milled outside the gymnasium, but the main action
was through the double doors at the end of the hall. Straightening his tie one
last time, Wiley Sharpe pushed through those doors and into his ten-year high
school reunion, his attention razor sharp as it slashed over every face in the
crowd.
Ready or not, here I come.
“Wiley! Hey, if
it isn’t the Coyote!”
On the alert,
Wiley turned just as a hand slapped against his shoulder and propelled him
deeper into the noisy, dimly lit gymnasium.
“Holy cow, isn’t
this amazing? A real blast from the past. How ya doin’, buddy?”
He turned to
regard the smallish man with a weak chin and generous spare tire with zero
recognition. His gaze flicked to the sticker slapped off-center on the man’s
tweed jacket and read, Hi! My Name Is…
“Tom Pattison.” Relaxing enough to smile, Wiley shook Tom’s hand and struggled
to relate the pudgy, balding man with the memory of the scrawny kid he’d known
a decade ago. “Wow. What a surprise.”
“You can say
that again! Boy, I recognized you from the moment you walked through the door.”
“Really?” That
made one of them.
“What have you
been doing, sleeping in a time capsule?”
“Good guess.”
“Listen, I want
you to meet the wife.” He wrapped an arm around the shoulders of a red-haired
woman who so perfectly matched him in overall size and coloring Wiley couldn’t
help but think of bookends. “Liz, this is Wiley Sharpe, former BMOC and
all-around head jock of our little campus.”
Wiley offered a
polite smile. “How do you—”
“You had your
best game right here on this court, didn’t you?” Clearly lost in a glory-days
fog, Tom scanned the crowded gymnasium. “Thirty points and some god-awful
amount of rebounds, am I right?”
It was
thirty-three points, ten assists and twelve rebounds, but Wiley merely shrugged.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Hell, I
remember it like it was yesterday.” Tom turned to his wife with a grin. “Honey,
this is the guy I told you about. You know, the one who was voted most likely
to get slapped with a paternity suit?”
“Oh, that’s
right.” Liz smiled at Wiley with the renewed interest of a hungry woman sizing
up a fresh piece of center-cut meat. “Has that happened yet?”
The loud blaring
of music covered Wiley’s sigh. It was probably ridiculous to hope everyone had
forgotten about that. “I’m happy to report it hasn’t.”
“Luckiest guy I’ve
ever seen, if you know what I mean.” Tom guffawed, slapping Wiley on the back
once more.
Smile screwed
firmly in place, Wiley searched the room for an escape route.
“So, Coyote. What
are you doing these days?”
Getting threatening emails, being harassed by crank calls,
having my house covered with spray-paint. You know, the usual. “I’m a
practicing family lawyer here in Bitterthorn, but I also teach part-time at
UTSA.” He spotted a deputy placed discreetly near the entrance, no doubt
Sheriff Berry’s ham-handed idea of staying on top of Wiley’s harassment case,
and decided now was as good a time as any to make a break for it. “If you’ll
excuse—”
“A lawyer? Did
you say lawyer?” Tom’s face turned stoplight-red
as he laughed hard enough to bring up a lung. “You? No way, you’ve gotta be kidding!”
Wiley’s smile
vanished. Maybe trawling his high school reunion for crazy-ass stalkers was a
bad idea, after all. “No, I’m not kidding.”
“Dude, no one’s
going to believe that. Aren’t you the guy who didn’t get to graduate with the
rest of the class?”
Wiley cleared
his throat. “I received my diploma later that summer.”
“We all thought
you’d never graduate. You had to have
that brainy kid tutor you—you know, that weird little metal mouth. What was her
name? It’s on the tip of my tongue.”
“Payton Pruitt.”
“Yeah, Payton
Pruitt! She was like, eight when she graduated.”
“Actually she
was fifteen.”
Tom waved this
away as unimportant. “Remember how everyone ragged you about being taught by
the Baby Brain? This poor friggin’ guy,” Tom confided to his wife, “had to be
tutored through his junior and senior years by the nerdiest nerd to have ever
nerded her way across God’s green earth, because the coach was paranoid about
benching him for failing grades.”
Wiley’s eyes
narrowed. “We’re almost thirty, Tom. In case you missed the memo, calling
people childish names is officially absurd.”
“Oh yeah, I was
just—”
“Uh-huh. I’ll
see you later, all right?”
“Hey, Coyote—”
“Take care.” As
he slipped into the crowd, Wiley took a fortifying breath. Holy crap. If the
rest of the evening was going to be that rough, he was in for one pisser of a
night. But he had to stick it out. If he wanted answers to who the hell had it
in for him—someone who knew he’d been called the Coyote back in the day—the reunion
was the perfect place to start looking.
An hour later
the gym was more packed than ever. The clash of perfumes, colognes and the
scent of warm bodies meshed into an overheated musk that brought Wiley back to
the dances of his youth. A couple of his old classmates whom he saw every day—the
few who’d opted to stay in the small town of Bitterthorn, Texas—drifted by to
ask after his latest case, a foreclosure that had everyone concerned. Already
he’d danced with his first love, Karen Hobbs—now Karen Goldblatt—laughed with
old teammates about locker-room shenanigans and passed the time with the school’s
former principal. Friends he had forgotten he had surrounded him in every
smiling face he saw.
Which was great,
except for one small problem. He was even more stumped for answers now than when
he’d first arrived.
Shit. Back to square one.
Wiley’s preoccupied
gaze landed on a tall, dark-haired woman hovering close to the main doors, and
the frustration of his fruitless search vanished as he took in the spectacular
length of her legs. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t having a great
time, if her taut expression was anything to go by. Like him, she was scanning
the crowds as if her life depended on it. She had one of those chic envelope
purses under one slender arm, and her rose-colored halter dress clung to her frame
like a jealous lover, underscoring her subtle curves with cool, unruffled elegance.
A corner of
Wiley’s mouth lifted in pure male appreciation while the search for his stalker
got jettisoned to the backseat. Unruffled
was as good a description as any for this lady. All slicked down and polished
up, she looked like she’d dropped out of a bandbox with not a single hair out
of place. Hell, it was only human nature that his fingers itched to muss her up
in every delicious way imaginable.
Before he got
too far ahead of himself, Wiley flicked a quick glance at her long-fingered,
delicate-looking hands. They revealed a couple glittering rings, but not one on
the finger that would put her in the No Trespassing zone.
In a heartbeat,
his smile shifted from appreciative to predatory.
Promising. Definitely promising.
She had to be
somebody’s date, he concluded, not taking his eyes off her out of an irrational
fear she’d vanish. Any man would want to have such a woman accompany him to a
reunion. Or anywhere else for that matter, though preferably to a bed with lots
of room to maneuver. She was the picture of sophistication, with a chin tilted
at an angle just haughty enough to make him want to bug her. Poke her. Make her
give up and give in even as she insisted he do the same.
Which, of
course, he would.
She shifted her
weight, and the subtle flare of her hip jutted out like a challenge. His
attention lingered on that smooth line—the curve of her ass made his mouth
water, and those traffic-stopping legs left bare and gleaming like living silk
were so perfect they didn’t seem real. High-class usually equaled high-maintenance,
but just one glance told him this looker would be worth it. More than worth it.
A man who had such a woman in his life could only count himself as one lucky
son of a gun.
And he’d be
right.
A sensual tug resonated
deep in his gut, a familiar reaction to a beautiful woman, but unfamiliar in
its intensity. And he realized with an unnerving start that even if there had
been a ring on her finger, it wouldn’t have mattered. He still would have
noticed her. He still would have wanted to talk to her. To lean closer to see
what color her eyes were. To breathe in her elusive scent. To sample the silken
glide of her skin beneath his hand. And lips. And tongue.
He still would
have desired her.
Wiley’s pulse
paused when the woman’s hand crept to her throat. In a nervous gesture she
couldn’t seem to restrain, she fiddled with a dainty gold chain that glittered
beneath the hollow of her neck before she brought it to the slicked-up bow of
her mouth.
Her mouth…
Wiley pushed his
way through the milling crowd, his edgy restlessness forgotten under a wave of anticipation.
***
Tomorrow, I’ll
post the second part of the chapter—Payton’s POV. See you then!
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