Duncan is the bad boy mystery man in our story.
I really fell for his character. Here is his first glimpse of Addison.
Draft:
“Jesus. There was a hurricane in tight jeans, just his brand of poison.
“That’s Mrs. Barnes. She and her husband run a wolf rescue just outside of town. They’re nice people.”
Married poison.
“No doubt.” He finished the cigarette. Grinding it out with his foot allowing it to join the filter graveyard littered around the porch.
This was getting him fucking nowhere. Might as well see if he could reach the city. He wouldn’t. But all of a sudden it looked like a good day to push 600 pounds of steel.”
And, here’s his first altercation with Addison as she sizes up the drifter.
Draft:
“She stopped to size the drifter up. Boots scuffed and worn, jeans the same, belt buckle some military motif, t-shirt covered by chambray button down more of the same. Her eyes drifted over the missing button on her way up. His face, sun browned, unshaven facial hair, over all scruffy and yes a little weary. Clear blue eyes watching her. Was he sizing her up too? What was that look, Amusement? Disdain? No matter, he was a drifter and all she wanted was a weeks’ worth of hired muscle.
“I’ve got a job building some fence. Maybe finish up in a week or two. Are you interested?”
“I might be.” His expression didn’t change. He had all the interest and enthusiasm of discussing the weather on a hot summer day.
“Do you have any experience building fence?”
“I might have.”
Something about his very nature inflamed her sense of pissed. He should be grateful for someone willing to take a chance on hiring him, infuriating over confident man. Shit, just what she needed to have around the rescue another man of few words that made her say bad words in her private thoughts. And, just perhaps his abundance of confidence made her lack of the same quality more glaring. She held her façade intact, a barrier of protection between him and all her many deficits.
“I’ll pay seven dollars an hour, if you know how to work.” She put her hands on her hips to hide how much he ruffled her calm.
“You got an auger for the post holes?”
Okay. He knew a little bit about fence building.
“No, I’ve got post-hole diggers.” She stood her ground, tossing her hair back over her shoulder with a shrug. She didn’t know anyone in town that she could get to come out to the rescue to build fence. She really needed him.
“Then it’ll cost you at least ten an hour.” He looked her straight on. His clear blue eyes, keen.
Hmm. Did he like the challenge of bargaining?
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a collapsed pack of cigarettes.
“I could get a Mexican for six an hour.” She half turned, pulling her purse higher over her shoulder. The façade threatening to crumble and leave her exposed. Monroe looked on watching their banter back and forth like a bobble headed doll, his wide grin showing more of his missing teeth than the four or five left in front to form his smile.
“I don’t see any Mexicans.” The drifter drawled stressing the word see, pulling the last cigarette out of the pack and placing the filter between his lips.
Was that a grin he hid with the motion?
Monroe handed him a box of matches.
Last cigarette, no matches. Confidence restored, she tossed her parting shot over her shoulder. “Eight an hour, not a penny more, oh and room and board. Be out at my place when the materials truck arrives to help unload it.”
She walked off, satisfaction in her step. Yes, she was getting the fence. She wouldn’t have to listen to her neighbor’s condescending and covertly threatening, see-here-little-missy discussions any longer. And her wolves would be safe. She would have done an air fist pump. but she knew those steely eyes watched her exit.”
I hope you’ve enjoyed howling at the moon with me!
Shifter’s Legacy coming spring 2014. I think you will enjoy.
Stay tuned for release parties and events later this spring.
Eden Glenn 