HOW DO YOU WRANGLE A HANDSOME MAN?

Posted: November 9, 2011 in Uncategorized

Well I couldn’t resist. You know I love my Aussie men so here’s a long taste of the upcoming January release – The Flamingo Wrangler – the second in the Pinked Series. See what you think.

THE FLAMINGO WRANGLER – (Five o’Clock Nowhere)

Nicky French eyed the Leopard’s Point Association Board of Directors and resisted using her purse in a dangerous fashion. But dear God she could see pummeling one or all of them for blatant regard to intelligence. Why in the hell were they arguing in the middle of July about Christmas decorations? Sighing, she looked out the clubhouse window at the contention of homeowners romping in the pool and squinted before shaking her head and stealing a glance at her watch. It wasn’t quite eight thirty and the cusp of yet another humid evening was baring down on Chesterfield County Virginia but she could see clearly enough. There were naked men in the pool. “What the fuck?

“What did you say, Nicky?” the man asked as he gazed down the length of the six foot table.

Nicky eyed Ray Switzer, the now somewhat infamous Board President of perhaps the swankiest and most well known community association in the entire state of Virginia and gave him her best rendition of a naughty girl smile. There was something almost comforting about having naked people in a community pool while the zookeepers droned on and on about what she considered to be fairly useless details in life. But since they’d spent nearly forty minutes on arguing about the types of decorations that should or shouldn’t be allowed in the community she knew it was damn important to the five thousand or so homeowners living within the gated community. Right?

God she longed to flee the building before she turned into a pumpkin. They were halfway through the Board meeting agenda and she knew damn good and well the entire group could spend a solid hour on delinquencies alone. Nicky craved a drink, a good lay and a new job. And not necessarily in that order. Tapping her foot against the metal table leg she absently eyed the door that seemed so damn far away. Sadly between the five board members staring at her like she was fresh prey to the forty or so homeowners snuggling into metal chairs hugging the perimeter of the clubhouse living room there was nowhere to run to. “Nothing, Ray. Sorry. And you were saying?” Maybe another damn good murder with something like a weedeater or tree chipper would help the idiots think about anything else but their dying libidos and challenging every creative idea.

Oh yeah, she was dreaming of pink elephants again.

Before any of the Board members had a chance to give a smart retort the door burst open and Patricia Lonestar swaggered into the room in her floor length fur coat.

Nicky fought dropping her head to the table and beating some sense into her brain. If only she had a gun…  Hell, that wouldn’t do any good with the crazies. There was something not quite right about the aging plump woman who had the personality of an alligator and the look of a shark. And wearing a fur coat in the middle of summer was nothing more than her way of shoving down the throats of all the little wannabe’s in the community she had money and they didn’t.

And she the woman couldn’t pay her association fees to save her life. Who the hell couldn’t fork out eighty dollars a month? Nicky knew it was more about her solidarity with something and no one wanted to get close enough with her to find out. Between pink flamingos flying at half staff in the community, a solid five percent refusing to pay their fees and the committees who enjoyed torturing… er tormenting people in the community Nicky was surprised anyone could smile. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at the ugly bulldog who somehow reminded her of Patricia. Same ugly demeanor. Same ugly scowl. Same facial structure. At least the dog’s fur coat was somehow better suited and better fitted.

“That lying bitch is going to die!” Holding out her shaking hand Patricia hissed as she foamed at the mouth and pointed directly at Nicky, her eyes full of rage.

Gasping, Betty Monroe, the Vice President and forty’s harlot wannabe chomped her gum and gazed down the table at Nicky. “You have yet another fan, Nicky.”

“Patricia, member voice is over,” Ray snarled.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about protocol and you know it. I’ve come to deal with the nasty letters that woman continues to send me. You need to fire her.” Throwing her head back Patricia snuffed as she stuck her two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

“And not much couth either,” he said under his breath.

    Nicky smiled and snuck a quick glance at the association’s Treasurer, Michael Jones. Somehow she longed for him to be in a garish leather get up instead of khaki’s and a polo. She had a feeling a Master Dom would stop Patricia in her tracks. “Patricia, what can we do for you?” Maybe going across the street to the local bar and grill, The Flamingo Rustler would be in order. A drink or five and a moment to flirt with the best looking Aussie in town would do her some good.

“You say I haven’t paid my bills!” Patricia snapped as she sashayed forward.

     Here it comes. Nicky shook her head as she could see Ray opening his mouth to retort. Don’t do it. Don’t… But the man refused to listen to rules or anything else. As what could only be described as a chauffeur on steroids glided into the clubhouse she tried to envision being anywhere else like her OB-GYN with her legs spread wide or perhaps waiting in line, a long line at a Wal-mart. Wait, she’d never go into a damn Wal-mart. But still, anywhere and as she kinda heard the woman going off about how she could buy all of Richmond with striking a check and how she had more money than God and that Nicky was going to burn in hell for lying…  Every day she asked herself the same question, why did she work so hard to achieve the highest designation of PCAM in the country?

Instead of professional community association manager the four simple letters should stand for premier crass asshole methodology. At least the thought gave her a smile. Glancing at the overweight woman foaming at the mouth she resisted giggling. Inhaling deeply she pretended to write down everything the woman was screeching about but somehow the little man who was pouring what had to be a martini for his boss or perhaps dominatrix was a little distracting. Would jumping over the front aisle and ripping the drink out of the man’s hand be considered in poor taste?

“Just tell us what you want as we have a long agenda ahead of us and I know we would all like to get home before midnight at least,” Ray said as he nodded to the other board members.

Midnight? Nicky snaked her hand down and grabbed her bottle of water. She hadn’t won the debate with her inner wild child about replacing the sixteen ounces with vodka but next time she would know better.

“I’ve come to pay my bill. I can do that here, can’t it?”

There was something about the wry grin on the woman’s face that troubled Nicky. “Of course you can. We can certainly talk about this in private later and I’ll give you the total amount so you can write a check if you like.”

Swirling her drink Patricia grinned before licking the rim. “I have things to do later this glorious evening and I know how much I owe to the penny. Are you ready?”

There was no doubt in Nicky’s mind the evening was going to be long and drawn out. Before she could say anything Ray simply beckoned for her as he huffed.

“Bring it up and then we can get on with the meeting.”

Nicky glanced at Ray and closed her eyes yet she could hear Patricia chuckling. Why hadn’t she gotten the cat-scan earlier? As the bulldog woofed she opened one eye just in time to see the dog take a crap in the middle of the floor.

“Happy to,” Patricia breathed. “Oh Poo Bear! That wasn’t nice. Ricky, please clean this up.”

Seeing Patricia’s chauffer scuttle away like a rat gave Nicky pause. She sorted through her papers and attempted to look busy as other members of the association cackled in the audience.

“God damn it can’t you take care of that rat ass bastard?” Ray snipped.

“Your dog is here too, Ray?” Betty asked as she laughed.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Nicky said through clenched teeth.

Betty slapped her hand. “We have to laugh honey or we’d all go insane.”

Who was the woman kidding? They were already insane.

“Let’s get back to business. Now Nicky, can you at least get us two proposals for the Christmas decorations by next week? We can call a special board meeting to decide,” Ray snorted as he slapped the top of the table.

“Special board meeting? Are you fucking out of your mind? These are long enough at once a month.”

For once Nicky had to agree with Sally. Probably the most hated woman in the community, she rarely said anything but boy she took copious notes.  “You’ll have three and we don’t need a board meeting as long as you all agree on the vendor.”

“Perfect. Then it’s settled. Let’s move on to the clubhouse painting contracts.”

Nicky groaned and concentrated on watching Ricky clean up the dog shit. The act was somehow so damn appropriate.

“Oh Ricky. Please get Poo Bear and I our chairs,” Patricia said as she wagged her finger. “And another martini.”

Nicky opened her mouth and was startled nothing came out. Had she lost her nerve? Or was she just mildly out of her mind?

As the two director’s chairs and what had to be a pitcher of martini’s the entire room was quiet. For about thirty seconds until Poo Bear howled and jumped into the chair.

“I’m managing a freaking zoo,” Nicky hissed under her breath.

“Try living here,” Betty grinned.

“No fucking way. Ray, can we get on with this?” Nicky asked as she brushed her hands through her hair.  The entire room started to get rowdy and there was no doubt everything could get out of hand.

“Patricia, please bring us the check so we can get moving,” Ray insisted.

“Oh I’ll do better than that.” Chuckling, Patricia whistled loudly. “Bring it in dear man.”

As if in slow motion Ricky sauntered outside and within minutes strolled back in the door carting in a wheelbarrow.

Nicky rose to her feet and paled. The entire deep handcart was filled with what appeared to be pennies. “No way.”

The crowd cheered, clapping and whistling.

“You are kidding me!” Michael hissed.

“This is perfect.” Sally clapped.

“We’re all going to hell,” Betty breathed. “It’s past time for my martini.”

“Order!” Ray slammed his hand down on the table.

Nicky dropped her head into her hands as the melee continued.

“Oh, you will need to count this by hand Mr. Treasurer,” Patricia cooed.

“Volunteers to help?” Ray choked.

Three hours and twenty-two minutes later and Nicky was ready to hire a hit man or a kid in the community to do the dastardly deed.

“Done!” Michael hissed as he wiped his brow. “We have our total. It’s seven hundred twenty seven dollars and forty-seven cents. I think that will take care of the entire payment, right Ray?”

“Let’s see.” Ray jerked out a set of papers and flipped through. “We’re three cents short.”

“I had everything right there,” Patricia said as she swilled another drink.

Ray turned his head slowly toward Nicky. “We’re going to have to count again.”

“I have three cents, Ray.” Goddamn it you will not fucking count again. Grabbing her purse Nicky almost dumped the entire contents out to find three lousy pennies.

“No can do, Nicky. That’s co-mingling,” Ray said as he sighed. “Count again.”

Making mental note to finally purchase a pistol Nicky slunk further into her seat. This was getting way out of hand.

 

****

 

“Hey boss. Need your attention my man.” Froggy grinned as the UPS driver stood in front of him and called up the stairs.

Hissing, Mick shook his head but had to admit his number one bartender was right. The geeky brown outfit and tall spandex comfort socks did nothing for the flushed man, sweat dripping off his brow. The poor overweight boy looked more than a bit uncomfortable in the intense Richmond Virginia summer heat. “Behave,” he said as he snagged a glance at the package and even from the distance could see Froggy’s mind racing.

“Who me? I think the afternoon just got saucy,” Froggy chuckled as he brushed the tip of his finger across the seam his mouth, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“Uh-huh, mate.” Bartending for the now number one soon-to-be-wildest-theme-bar in the fair city allowed his brawny bartender certain interests of his own. And yanking Mick St. Simons’ chain was one of his favorites.  There was nothing like teasing a fighting Aussie to get your blood rolling and while Mick was exhausted from recent events, he couldn’t afford not to be on his game. Nope, the night was sure to be a hot one. After all, Thursdays were becoming as famous as Sandbox Saturdays, their latest endeavor, complete with sand, sun and a swim up bar. No holes barred. Who knew Chesterfield County could have some a snazzy place? Already jumping with activity his gut told him it was going to be a wild night.

“Scared to open it, boss?”

“Come here and I’ll smack you.” Mick scanned the perimeter and sighed. Damn, if he wasn’t nervous as a little kid about to attend the local bully’s birthday party. Whew. He checked his watch for the twentieth time that day. His date was rolling around the corner fast. A date with a lovely strawberry golden blond that had boiled his blood this long summer month. Nicky French, spunky Community Manager of the insane community across the street, Leopard’s Pointe and always sexy and feisty, was his tasty treat for the evening.  And Mick tingled in anticipation. Grinning, he thought about their first now infamous meeting and licked his lips. She was one saucy babe. And she’d smack the crap out of him for thinking this way.

He heard Froggy’s chuckle and wondered what the hell had been delivered. Standing by his office perch window over the expansive dining room, Mick gazed down at the vibrantly dressed patrons. There was nothing like shades of hot pink and tangerine to spruce up a summer’s night. Damn, it was like five o’clock nowhere but the place was already hopping. The snazzy thought made him grin all the way to the bank. If he kept up the crowds day after day that came for either the delicious menu or the insane drinks Froggy kept concocting, then he’d be rich by Christmas.

“Boss dude? I really think you’ll want to handle this package all by yourself.” Folding his arms, Froggy issued another shameless laugh.

Mick grumbled and strolled down the stairs. It had been awhile since he’d been out of his signature black, tight – skin-tight jeans for a real honest to goodness date with a woman who he wanted to get into her…tight little mini-skirt. But Nicky deserved the best. A new pair of crisp cream linen pants and a deep turquoise shirt matched his…now what did Nicky call them as he was hovering over her naked? Oh yes, the most stimulating dancing blue eyes she’d ever seen. Sexy, Sinful, and downright delicious. He was the one for her all the way. You betcha. He was the one who would steal her heart away. That is if he could get past tonight.

He puffed up and stared at the skittish UPS guy. Oh bloody hell who the hell was he kidding? Being in the running with another guy and one he actually figured out he liked did nothing for his very manhood. No, Tyler Deverall, Homicide Detective extraordinaire, was possibly making more headway than he was. Damn the shaggy headed man with the boyish grin.

“Looks like someone sent you a goody bag, Mick.” Froggy nodded toward the package. “My guess by the saucy chili red lips placed on the return address area right there, you’re gonna just love what’s inside.”

Mick flashed Froggy a snarl.

“I just need ya’ll to sign here.” The UPS man held out his handheld.

“Since when do I gotta sign for a package?”

“Since the little filly decided that you had to before she’d let it go I guess.” Puff ball held out a pen.

“Little filly, eh?” Mick started to smile. Nicky was a surprise all right. The kind of “filly” he could spend more time with. If only Nicky would allow him to. No, she had certainly made good on her promise after the surprise mud-wrestling event he and Tyler had forced on her. Why he had thought the little money-making charity even would turn her head and force her hand was beyond him. She’d kept to herself these long four weeks. Thank God, her good sense or good graces or pity on at least him had taken over. Wait… A pity date? Shit!

The UPS guy stared up high at the very tall muscular blond man with obvious envy and shrugged. “Sure enough with lips like that on a package I sure hope you don’t got a man sending that kind of package to you. That would be a damn shame, now wouldn’t it?” A chortle from the red faced man brought Mick’s harsh eyes and angry face down to his.

The now shaking driver gulped and Mick could swear he heard the guy’s knees knocking.

“Oooohhh, I’m shakin’,” Froggy chortled.

“If I were you little service man, I’d take your pen, your name card that tells you who you belong to and your brown ugly truck and leave while you still can.” Mick was only kidding, but the man about to loose his cookies didn’t know it.

UPS man stared up and down at his solid six foot four inch mass and choked. “Ssssuuuurrreeee. Ssssooooorrry.” He scuttled backward toward the door as the sultry blond waitress gave Mick a nasty look.

Nothing like having your own waitress giving you the evil eye. But Candy knew how to drill any man into the floor. Thank God for that.

UPS man hit the door running full out. Who knew pudgy legs could fly that fast.

Mick chuckled and gazed down at the package.

“A little hard on him there weren’t cha, boss?” Froggy smiled, his eyes twinkling. He leaned over the bar and pushed the package closer. “If I’m not mistaken, and I usually am not, you’re going to get laid tonight. And might I say thank God for all of us.”

“If I didn’t like you so much Froggy my man, I would kick your ass from one end of my bar to the other.”

“Funny how you keep reminding me it’s your bar.” Froggy laughed.

Mick was nothing but a good natured sexy guy who kept all the women coming back to the bar, including the cronies from across the street. Unfortunately, the single beautiful woman who’d stolen Mick’s heart and parts of his body had remained AWOL – Nicky French. The wafting cologne and stud muffin attire was nothing but a bright beacon screaming Mick had a date.

“So hot date boy, how about my hot new Pink Ivory signature drink on the house tonight for our rather interesting patrons?”  Froggy sniffed as he plunked fresh bottles of liquor on the counter.

“How about two only?” Like they needed ‘em any drunker. Mick started to growl when the thudding sound of the front door and a booming loud echo thumped throughout the joint. Only the pulsing surf music masked the power of the large arms that forced the massive steel back into the doorjamb. Mick stared as the wild crowd sauntered in the bar like they owned the joint.

“Oh shit, looks like The Flamingo Rustler will never be the same again,” Froggy hissed as he eyed the six humongous men with amusement. “Then again maybe they’ll mean another adventure tonight. Oh yeah, you already got one of your own planned.

“Froggy!” Mick snarled through clenched teeth as he gazed down the lot of the rough-hewn men. The term wild-eyed-burly biker took on an entirely new meaning when the six dudes strolled in. Mick eyed them cautiously. Not that the Flamingo Rustler hadn’t been a bar designed specifically for the Richmond Harley Riders of America when his grandfather owned the club. But that was several years, a complete restoration and a new chef later. And the sometimes multiple personality encompassing his nearly deranged Italian chef wouldn’t like to serve men who wore nothing but leather. Staring around at the gaping crowd of mostly association community leaders and their co-horts, he knew his life was going to hell in a hand basket in a hurry.

“Nice place.” The tallest of the bikers laughed.

“Think we could roost for a while here. Whatcha think Big T?” The Puerto Rican had more tattoos than Mick’s grandfather, or so he thought from the pictures Mick had seen. Crazy old fart. Shame they’d never met. Maybe he could have given Mick a pointer or two about handling the rough flock who’d found their way into his bar.

“Oh yeah. Let’s just see if we can find some sexy ladies.” The shortest stud-wanna-be eyed Candy. By the time he finished licking his lips and gyrating his hips, Candy was in the process of giving him the read-between-the-lines-finger.

“Is Lurch here yet?” Froggy walked around the bar.

They both knew Candy could handle herself. That wasn’t the immediate problem but having a hulking mass as a bouncer helped with the rougher crowd. “I hope to hell not. If he sees one of these guys going for Candy, I’ll never get my bar back from the cops.” Mick suddenly wished his massive bouncer was in the house. He moved toward the group and watched as several of the ladies from Leopard’s Pointe licked their lips. Damn if the sixty some year old women didn’t need to get laid more than he did. The ugly thought frosted his last nerve. Never mind they used all the condoms in the lady’s bathroom. God, he hated the gated community association across the street.

The one who answered to “Big T” stalked forward wearing a shit-eating grin. Obviously the leader of the group, he stared behind the bar as Wildman walked out from the back.

Mick turned to glare at his second in charge bartender. Roger Martin, who would never answer to his given name, was no slacker himself. His hulking muscles, long dark hair, and handle bar mustache screamed bad-ass. In truth, he was a pussy cat in disguise. But the evil, crazed and ferocious look he wore today even sizzled Mick’s last nerve. God, he sensed a massive fight in the middle of his freaking bar. “Wildman, you know these gentlemen?”

Wildman held his hand out to stop all movement in the bar and the entire place shut down. Except for the sing-songy sounds of some blond surfer dude crooning now what appeared to be a bad rendition of a rumba song, you could hear a pin drop. He slid around the bar keeping his demeanor cool but staring into Big T’s eyes.

The five other bikers moved back, crossed their arms and the stance stated clearly hip and dangerous. No one was going to leave the bar alive.

Wildman passed by Mick without so much as a look and stood in front of Big T. Circling him first, they eyed each other like predators of the night.

“This doesn’t look good,” Froggy whispered.

The older patrons stared and swooned and for some reason, Mick could tell several of them were taking bets. Nothing seemed to change. “Nah, mate. Take it easy and let’s see what plays out here.” Mick knew Wildman enough to know something was going on and it didn’t have anything to do with a throw down.

“What you doing here?” Wildman growled. “Thought I told you not to come around in my parts. You ready to get your ass kicked?”

“Yeah well, I don’t follow orders too well brother. You dig?” Big T circled Wildman. Matching in height, they sure as shit looked ready for a throw down. “And you kick my ass? That will be the day!”

“No, you never did take orders well. Maybe I‘ll have to remind you who’s boss.” As Wildman took a step forward, the entire room gasped.

Except for the strawberry pink haired woman who cooed behind the group. “My, my, aren’t you guys real men.” She sidled up to one of the bikers and slid her hands around his waist.

Mick couldn’t help but think Penelope had her hands full. As she slid them down the sulking man’s crotch Mick couldn’t watch. He simply hated some of the community wackos who frequented his bar.

“Real men?” Froggy watched a ferocious glimmer cascade across Wildman’s face.

Growl. Grunt. Belch.

“So sue me, Wildman.” Big T grinned and moved forward with flair. As they slammed chests the crowd in the bar roared.

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” Froggy laughed moving back behind the bar. “Bar’s open!”

Everyone cheered as the talking and partying resumed.

“Thank God for small favors.” Mick raised his eyebrow and scrutinized the two friends.

“James, Horhei, Shark, Riley and Hogman. You brought the crew, Big T. What the hell are you guys doing here?” Wildman moved to clasp their hands.

Penelope refused to let her hands go from around Shark’s waist.

Somehow he was in hog heaven, a shit-eating grin spread from ear to ear.

Mick sighed and pushed the brown box back onto the bar. Even his morbid curiosity of what Nicky had sent him couldn’t overtake the fact he had several bikers hooping it up in his bar. He could just imagine what the bikes looked like outside taking up real estate.

“Got a little bored with being at the beach. We decided to take a trip to see if Richmond could be some new digs for us. Seems like a nice kinda place to be so far.” Big T slapped Wildman on the back.

“As in the six of you? Moving here? In my turf.” Wildman strode behind the bar and grabbed several Budweisers.

Big T grinned. “As in say around sixty of us.”

“Cool guy. We’d love the company here.”

Froggy gulped.

Candy smiled.

Penelope swooned.

And Mick couldn’t wait to have a tall drink of tequila.

“Come on guys. Let’s go have a drink.” Wildman eyed them as the crowd of community revelers crowded around them.

“Oh my, you have such big tattoos. How many do you have?” Penelope meowed

“Lordy, what do you boys have under those leather pants you purr-fect man?” Seventy-five and she wiggled and stroked Hogman with crazed abandon.

“Want to show me your really big bike?” She cooed, swaying her handful of condoms in their direction.

“Gees, you got a tough crowd here.” Big T stepped back.

“You got no idea. Come to the bar and meet the owner of this fine establishment.” Wildman led them toward Mick.

Why did he have to look like the pretty boy on this fine afternoon? “Wildman?”

“You the owner?” The burley man asked, gazing down the length of Mick, his eyes full of disdain.

“I am.” Mick cursed inwardly as he longed for his shit kickers. “Who’s askin’?”

The two men sized each other up as they took a twirl around each other.

“Jesus. Cut the testosterone and have a drink, “ Candy hissed as she gave the group of men an admonishing look.

As Big T and the others hovered around him, Mick felt every bit the filet mignon sitting on a large platter just waiting to be kicked in the ass.

“Mick St. Simons, meet the guys.”

It was at that moment that Mick knew that owning a bar was just about the best thing in the world or the worst depending on who you asked.

And what kind of patrons frequented the bar.

“You ain’t like your grandpappy,” Big T snarled, his eyes twinkling.

“And he ain’t like me,” Mick snapped but he could tell the guy meant no harm.

Tick. Tock.

“I think I’m gonna fuckin’ like this place,” Big T said as he held out his hand.

Mick shook his head as he eyed Wildman. “Glad to know ya, mate. First drinks are on the house.”

“Woot!” Horhei grinned from ear to ear.

“Saw you got a neat deck. Can we have our drink outside?” James asked as he scanned the bar.

“Sure guys. Froggy, drinks on the house for our guests,” Mick smiled. There was something about the scraggly men he licked.

“Comin’ up, boss,” Froggy whistled as he moved back behind the wall.

Candy folded her arms and swayed her hips. “I suppose you want me to serve them?”

Mick gave her a look. God, the woman loved to play. Shame she was off limits to everyone but Lurch.

“Hell yeah!” Shark whistled as he pumped his chest.

“Great,” Candy said under her breath. “Follow me out the back door, boys.”

Mick chuckled as he watched the group of men saunter behind his blonde goddess waitress.

“You okay with this, boss?’ Wildman asked.

“Do I have a choice?” Mick shook his head. At least his Harley ridin’ grandfather would love him. Gazing around the perimeter he also could tell easily the patrons were intrigued.

“Fuck no but hell, good for business.” Wildman smiled. “They’re good guys. Just a little rough around the edges.”

“Rough?”

“Yeah,” Wildman breathed as he leaned in and pulsed his finger down the side of Mick’s cheek. “Unlike the pretty boys I know.”

“Why I outta.” But Mick had to grin. “Think I’ll check out my deck.”

“You just do that,” Wildman chuckled. “Gettin’ the drinks ready.”

Mick walked the restaurant before heading outside. Perhaps a bracer before his date wasn’t a bad idea. As he moved out to the oversized deck and gazed around the perimeter of the newly installed volleyball court and large sandbox, he grinned. It was going to be a great rest of the summer.

Hope you enjoyed!

Ciao  xxx

Dakotah

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