Weekly Update

The week started strong but then I lost some momentum as I switched computers. I figure I have another week or two before I get everything set up the way I want it. On the word-count front, I ended up with 3833 words- a little lower than I wanted but I'll get there. Ideally, I would like to get in a minimum of 5K a week. After I hit my CampNaNo goal, I set a new one for the month of July, working towards 20K. Of course, I then looked at the calendar wrong and thought I had until tomorrow! I may not meet it today, but I'll be close. Goal for August? Another 20K to finish on my current WIP. And then the edits begin!

This week's excerpt:

He sat with his head down, staring into what was left of his beer, when an arm was thrown over his shoulders and a voice he hadn’t heard in over a year was whispering into his ear. “Hey, baby boy, fancy meeting you here.”  He tensed, refusing to turn his head.

“What are you doing here?”

“You don’t call, you don’t text. Why, I’m beginning to think you didn’t want to see me anymore.” The teasing tone grew harder and lower. “Give us a kiss, Jordy. I've missed you.”

Reese interrupted. “Can I get you anything?” Jordan’s eyes widened and his chest heaved in panic as he stared up. The bartender gave him a questioning look before looking back at the big man that was draped against him.

“Yeah, I’ll have what my Jordy has here. And get him another.”

Reese met Jordan’s eyes again, not moving away until the kid nodded his head, a small movement to let him know he was okay. Possibly no one else would have noticed, but Jordan could see the stiffness in Reese’s back and shoulders, the questions piling up but unasked. He sat the beers down and didn’t move away, even though he had customers waiting. “Going to introduce your friend?” he asked Jordan.

The answer was almost too low to hear over the jukebox. “Reese Daniels, meet Jebediah Walker.”

“No reason to be so formal.” The man stuck his hand out. “Everyone calls me Jeb.”

Reese returned the handshake reluctantly, and as expected, Jeb gave an extra alpha-male squeeze, a subliminal attempt at intimidation. “How do you two know each other?” he asked, turning his attention back to Jordan, who sat with his head down and his posture sunken.

Not that Jeb was going to give him a chance to answer. “Oh, me and Jordy go back a few years. He used to follow me from job to job like a little mutt in heat. Couldn’t get enough of his Big Jeb. Could you, baby?” Jordan flinched when Jeb gave his shoulder a tight squeeze, but he didn’t pull away. “Kinda lost track of each other after that Minnesota job last year, though. But I knew you’d find me again.”

He turned his attention away from Jordan and gave Reese a once over. “What about you? You his Big Chief now?” The hinted slur was intentional but Jordan had dealt with bullies for most of his life. He recognized Jeb’s type; he was the kind of man that would use his good looks to charm his targets even while he used his bulk and tattooed arms to frighten and bulldoze anyone he saw as weak or inferior.

Reese unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves to the elbow, his own tattoos clear under the hanging light that ran the length of the bar. He never broke eye contact with Jeb as he considered his answer. The toolpusher was the first to break the connection, tipping up his beer in an approximation of indifference. “We live together. Now, if you two will excuse me, I need to get back to work. Nice to have met you, Jeb.”

“Oh, I’ll be back. We’ll be here for at least a month and I like your little drinking hole.” He turned his attention back to Jordan, giving him a tug that almost had him sliding off the stool. “Come outside with me for a minute, give us a chance to catch up. It’s too loud in here to talk.” Jeb gave Reese a wink as Jordan stood and pulled away from his grip, but he followed the man, looking over his shoulder once before he stepped out into the night.