Romance Writers Weekly Flash Fiction- 2/24/2015 #flash #romance

The Guardian Angel

This week's prompt comes fromJ.J. Devine- A Flash Fiction scene of 500 words that contain the words happiness, egg, and purple. If you're coming over from Beth Carter's blog, welcome! If you missed her, head on back to check out her inspiration!

“Hey, Grace, come here a minute, will you?”

Damn, all she wanted right now was a long hot shower followed by some quiet time with her son. With a long-suffering sigh, she slipped her aching feet into her Birkenstocks. Hippy shoes her boss called them. Her uncle was a crotchety old bastard, but he was the only father she’d ever known.

Fighting the frigid wind that stung her cheeks and brought tears to her eyes, she made her way up the hill from the boathouse where she’d been stowing the kayaks and gear. She scrambled through the cabin door, slamming it and the impending storm behind her.

Two men sat at the table, each with a beer.

Suspicion crawled up her spine. Uncle Ben didn’t have visitors inside the house. At the river, yes. An owner had to run his business and show proper hospitality. But since she’d returned home he’d respected her need to privacy for her safety and her son’s. This particular visitor could have walked right out of the pages of GQ. Impeccably cut suit, crisp white shirt and shoes with a shine that would put the Queen’s Guard to shame. And his face, an odd combination of the haughty class of Pierce Brosnan and the rugged suave charm of Tom Selleck, was handsome enough to make most women swoon.

She wasn’t most women.

Uncle Ben rose, moved to the fridge, a little stiffly but clearly disguising the pronounced limp he’d picked up in a military training accident. Or at least that was the story he’d told her. He was certainly trying to impress this stranger. Stupid male pride.

He handed her an ice cold long neck and caressed her forehead. “How did you get this goose egg on your head?”

“Oh, has it turned black and blue already?”

He smiled. “More purple.” Easing into the chair across from the stranger, Ben pressed, “So, run into a tree?”

“One of the teenagers today wasn’t looking…”

Grace shrugged, dropped into a chair at the table, focusing on her uncle while her mind ran scenarios about the sexy businessman. Oh God, Uncle Ben couldn’t sell their river guide business. Could he?

She had to admit, maybe he was ready to retire. He deserved happiness. Who knew, maybe Miami or Arizona beckoned. If only she had the cash to buy him out…

“Well, it seems you need someone to watch your back. Or rather, your head,” he added with a gruff chuckle. “Meet your guardian angel, Brock Harrington.”

Guardian angel? “Like a bodyguard? I don’t need one and certainly don’t want one.” After a long draw on the bottle, she scoffed. “Besides, this city boy doesn’t know a thing about survival in the woods.”

For the first time he spoke in a slow, sexy Texas drawl. “Darling, don’t let these fancy duds fool you. Years in Uncle Sam’s finest teams have over-prepared me for protecting you. I reckon I can figure out how to run a kayak down class four rapids.”

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photo credit: 仁淀川 via photopin (license)

Head over to A. S. Fenichel's blog for her submission!