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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  A MONTH FROM MIAMI was originally published in eBook format in 2008 by

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd. This version has not been changed from the original except for the back matter.

  A Month from Miami

  Copyright © 2008 by Barbara Meyers

  Edited by Lindsey McGurk

  This edition published by Barbara Meyers ,LLC Copyright © 2017

  Cover by Steven Novak, Novak Illustration

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  A Month From Miami | Barbara Meyers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

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  Dedication

  Daily I thank God for the inspiration, writing and otherwise, that He gives me.

  This book is dedicated to someone I thought would be a lifelong friend. I learned much of what I know about the art of persistence from her. She never gave up and she always landed on her feet.

  Thank you to my husband Bill for his years of unflagging support.

  Thank you to Rick for having such a heroic-sounding name.

  Thank you to Christina Brashear of Samhain Publishing for furthering the philosophy, “It’s all about the story.”

  A Month From Miami

  Barbara Meyers

  Chapter One

  With no other choice, Kay Lee closed the hatch on the gas tank, retrieved her now melting drink and her sunglasses and settled herself in the seat. She popped a fresh piece of bubble gum into her mouth and turned the key in the ignition.

  Nothing happened.

  “No,” Kay Lee pleaded with the car. “Come on, baby, come on. One more time, for Kay Lee.” She pumped the gas pedal and tried the ignition again.

  Nothing.

  Kay Lee banged the heel of her hand on Old Blue’s steering wheel. “You rotten piece of junk,” she growled. She jammed the gearshift into neutral and turned the key one more time. Dead.

  She got out and slammed the door shut. Lucky for her it didn’t fall off. She thought about kicking the tire just to vent some frustration, but she didn’t want to mess up her pedicure or dirty the mules she’d bought at the JC Penney seventy-five percent off sale. Besides, she couldn’t kick Old Blue when the old girl was already down. Surely the package she’d just discovered dangling inside her gas tank wasn’t causing problems already? Knowing Old Blue, something else had gone wrong.

  For a moment she fretted over the discovery of those three glass vials filled with what had to be valuable gemstones. Wrapped up in plastic and tied with a clear cord slipped over the base of her gas cap, they had been hidden inside the tank, yet easily retrievable.

  With curiosity and no small amount of awe, she’d fished them out and unwrapped them. The question of how they’d come to be in her gas tank remained unanswered, but she’d decided they’d best remain hidden where they were. But the cord had slipped from her nervous fingers when she tried to loop it back over the base of the gas cap. She imagined the package was currently floating in her gas tank. At least she hoped it was floating.

  She needed to get her car running and get to Miami ASAP.

  She fought down her sense of unease and retraced her steps to the convenience-store counter where she forced her best smile at the clerk. “Hi again. Is there a garage around here? You know, with someone who can fix cars? Mine just sort of died out there.”

  “There’s a mechanic in Perrish, just up the road there.” He pointed west, away from the interstate.

  “How far is that?” It didn’t look like there could be a town of any size at the end of the road he indicated.

  “Couple miles is all. Garage is right there on the main drag. Rick Braddock runs it. He’ll fix you right up.”

  She purposely broadened her smile and batted her eyelashes. “Can I use your phone?”

  The clerk shook his head. “Sorry, miss. Phone’s been out of order all day. Word is a construction crew severed a line. Supposed to have it fixed by midnight tonight.”

  “Hmm.” Kay Lee thought for a moment. Everything had been going so well. Until she crossed the Florida state line. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cell phone I could use, would you?”

  “Nope,” came the clerk’s helpful answer.

  And here she’d thought she was the only person in the country who didn’t possess a cell phone. Perhaps she and the convenience-store clerk were soul mates.

  “Then how can I call this Rick whatever-his-name-is and see if he can come take a look at my car?” Kay Lee gave him her best I’m-a-helpless-southern-miss look.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Can’t help you there.”

  Ma’am. He called me “ma’am”! So much for southern charm. She sighed but she kept her smile in place. Just her luck. A broken-down car and no phone for miles. It was like being back in rural Tennessee.

  Doesn’t this just make my day. Kay Lee nodded and adjusted her weighty purse over her shoulder. “Thanks anyway.”

  Kay Lee made sure her smile remained firmly in place as she went back outside and climbed behind the wheel of her car. The humid heat closed around her like a living being. She took a breath, closed her eyes for a second, said a brief prayer, jammed the key into the ignition and turned it.

  Nothing.

  Apparently the answer to her prayer was no.

  She got out and glanced from Old Blue to the empty stretch of road. A couple of miles. Couldn’t be any farther than the walk down to Munson’s Creek and back. She’d done that a million times back in Bertie Springs. Besides, the exercise would do her good.

  She grabbed her drink in its wilting cardboard cup, stuffed the bubble gum in her already bulging purse and set off.

  In seconds she was drenched in perspiration. Not a breeze blew. Nothing moved. It was as if everything had died on this Florida afternoon.

  The heat of the sun reflected off the crumbling gray blacktop, but Kay Lee refused to stop or turn back. If she did, she’d never get to Miami. She shouldered her heavy bag and sucked on
her straw, forcing herself to think cool thoughts.

  Like jumping off the swing rope into the cold water at Munson’s Creek every summer. Like the winter snow that clogged the curving mountain roads around Bertie Springs. Like Granny Daisy’s cool, work-roughened hand pressed against her forehead to check for a fever.

  Even though she’d vowed never to return to Bertie Springs or to settle for a life spent in any other little town, Kay Lee had some fond memories of home.

  Pretty soon the trees on either side of the road thinned a bit and she saw a house. Then another one. A sign announced the city limits of Perrish, Florida, population twelve hundred and eight. About the same size as Bertie Springs.

  She kept walking, even though her mules rubbed against her little toes and sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts. What she wouldn’t give for a dip in Munson’s Creek right about now.

  She’d have taken the foolish shoes off except she’d spent too much of her life walking barefoot along country roads, her toes getting dusty and grimy. On the road to big-city glamour and sophistication there was no room for grubby feet. She’d impress the heck out of whoever she ran into along the way or die trying.

  Pretty soon a business district came into view. A bank. A drug store. A gas station garage combo. All of which looked as deserted as the main road.

  She entered the gas station which thankfully was air conditioned. An empty counter greeted her, but she loitered there anyway, taking a few minutes to cool off. A couple of vending machines hummed next to each other. Another door led to the garage. She poked her head through it. Country music wailed from an unseen radio.

  “Hello?” she called. “Anybody home?”

  She took a couple of tentative steps into the two-bay garage. A minivan sat elevated on a hydraulic lift in the first bay, its hood up and tires off.

  She walked past it, looking for signs of life.

  A pickup sat in the second bay, the front end jacked up. A pair of long legs covered in dark blue denim and work boots stuck out from under it.

  A male voice sang along with the radio. Garth Brooks he wasn’t, but she’d heard worse.

  “Hello?” she called. “Excuse me?”

  The caterwauling continued. At this rate, she’d never get to Miami. She nudged the nearest ankle with her toe. This time she was rewarded with a loud clang and an even louder curse. The rack he’d been lying on slid out from under the truck.

  “What the...?” His gaze locked with hers and Kay Lee felt a tremor go through her. He was dangerous-looking, with what appeared to be a two-day growth of beard, black hair almost to his shoulders and a dark scowl. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had the kind of muscles she and other girls back home drooled over in the magazines, only his were covered by a snug, almost spotless white tee shirt.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but—” Kay Lee began.

  “What? Wait a minute.” In one swift movement he got up and Kay Lee had to take a step back from his imposing presence, even though he turned in the opposite direction. A second later the music snapped off and he came back tapping the wrench he held against his open palm. The scowl remained.

  “Can I help you?”

  Words almost failed her, but her goal never did. Miami or bust, she reminded herself. “My car won’t start,” she told him. Nervously she blew a bubble, sucked it back into her mouth and popped what was left of it.

  “Fine. Let’s have a look.” He shepherded her out of the garage and paused to survey the empty gas pumps and surrounding area. A few other vehicles were lined up in a row along one edge of the property. He turned back to her. “Where is it?”

  “It’s, uh, at the convenience store out near the interstate. I stopped to use the bathroom, and it wouldn’t start.” I stopped to use the bathroom? Too much information, Kay Lee.

  “Then you’ll have to wait. I’ve got a brake job to finish on that truck and a tire rotation on the van.”

  “Okay,” Kay Lee agreed as if she had some choice in the matter. So Miami would have to wait another hour or two. She’d been waiting her whole life to get out of Bertie Springs. She could wait a little while longer.

  She followed him back into the garage. He repositioned himself on the rack and disappeared beneath the pickup once again. “I’m Kay Lee Walsh, by the way. You must be Rick, huh? I’m not one of those psychics like on TV or anything. The clerk at the convenience store told me your name. Rick Bradley? Is that right?”

  “Braddock,” came the clipped reply.

  “Oh. I knew it was something like that.” She leaned against the wall of the garage, although what she wanted to do was sit. Since she’d held out long enough to make an impression on Rick Braddock, she stepped out of her mules. The cool concrete felt heavenly on the soles of her feet. Her little toes were rubbed raw and ready to blister from her long walk. She blew her bangs off her forehead. The heat wasn’t so bad in here. A couple of fans set on high speed swiveled back and forth stirring the humid air.

  “I hope it won’t take long to fix my car. I’m on my way to Miami. I’ve got a job at my cousin Tillie’s beauty salon there. Well, she’s not exactly my cousin, but we’re sort of like cousins, being that our mamas were like sisters, you know what I mean?”

  Kay Lee blew another bubble and popped it, the sound echoing off the concrete block walls. “At Granny Daisy’s funeral, Tillie told me I could come work for her. I thought why should I stay in Bertie Springs? There’s nothing for me there. Well, there was Bobby Lou Tucker. He was real sweet on me. But I just couldn’t see spending the rest of my life in Bertie Springs with Bobby Lou. Eating dinner every Sunday with Bobby’s family. Plus, our kids would have to have Lou as their second name. It’s a Tucker tradition. Cindy Lou. Billy Lou. Donnie Lou.”

  Kay Lee blew a series of small bubbles, punctuating each of them with a satisfying pop. She slid down to sit, propping her elbows on her knees. This way she could see some of the white tee shirt, too. It was almost like having a conversation with a whole person.

  “Lee’s not any better for a middle name,” she went on to her audience of one. “I’m not thrilled with the name Kay Lee. I always sort of wished my name was Kaylee, you know, all one word? It sounds more modern. When I get to Miami, I’m going to be

  Kaylee. In fact, I think I’ll start right now. With you. You can call me Kaylee, all right?” In response, Kaylee heard a non-committal grunt.

  “You’re not much of a talker, are you? Don’t you have anything to say?”

  Rick Braddock scooted out from under the truck and fixed her with a dark penetrating look. He caught her right in the middle of blowing a big bubble.

  “Yeah. I’ve got something to say. Do you ever stop talking?”

  Chapter Two

  Kaylee was so startled by Rick’s appearance and his question she forgot to suck the bubble back into her mouth before it popped. The sticky mass stubbornly attached itself to the tip of her nose. She reached up, pulled the pink blob away from her face and stuck the whole wad back in her mouth.

  He was still staring at her with those dark eyes. Kaylee gulped and accidentally swallowed her gum. It got stuck halfway down her throat, and she had to swallow again. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. All she could hear was the hum of the fans and the steady beat of her own heart.

  One side of his mouth quirked up. “Guess you answered that question.” He lay back down and disappeared under the truck once again.

  Kaylee studied what she could see of him and kept her mouth shut. She knew she talked too much. And she chattered even more than normal when she was nervous. For some reason, Rick Braddock made her nervous. Hard to say why. She got the feeling he didn’t much like her, even though he’d just met her. Well, technically he hadn’t met her. She’d introduced herself. He’d grunted.

  He had long legs. Lots of muscles and penetrating dark eyes. That was about all she could tell about him. At least his presence was distracting her from the find in her gas tank earlier. Almost. She went bac
k to contemplating the possible whens, wheres, hows and whys of that mysterious package.

  After five minutes or so of silence, Rick slid out from under the truck and stood. He wiped his hands on a rag, walked around and lowered the hood. “You’ll have to move so I can back this out.”

  Kaylee scrambled up, winced as she slid her sore toes back into her shoes and tottered to the other side of the garage, her heavy bag swaying from one shoulder.

  He backed the truck out and parked it at the end of the line of vehicles, then returned to the garage, picked up a tire and positioned it on the back wheel of the minivan.

  “So have you lived here long?” she ventured.

  “Quite a while.”

  An answer! That seemed like progress.

  “This is a pretty small town, isn’t it? Course, the town I came from back in Tennessee isn’t much bigger. Tillie says there’s all kinds of things to do in Miami. Stores stay open late. There’s restaurants and nightclubs. I’ve never been in a nightclub before. Have you? I mean, I’ve been in Joe-Bob’s Liquor Store and Lounge back home, but it’s hardly what you’d call a nightclub. Folks just go there ’cause there’s nowhere else to go. They have a jukebox though. Me and Bobby Lou’d dance sometimes. Not because Bobby Lou likes to dance so much; only because he knew I liked to. He figured dancing would sweeten me up for later, you know what I mean?”

  Rick responded with the rat-a-tat of the pneumatic gun as he attached the rear tire to the wheel.

  He rolled a tire to the front of the car and mounted it on the wheel. Kaylee trailed behind him.

  “I don’t understand why men don’t like to dance. I mean, why can’t they just enjoy it, instead of always looking for a reward?” Rick glanced at her.

  “Do you like to dance?”

  He blasted the nuts with the gun and checked to make sure they were secure. He retrieved another tire and hung it on the passenger side.

  “Do you?” Kaylee pushed.

  “What?”

  “Like to dance?”

  Again she got that quick once-over before he returned his attention to the tire.