Jezebel Koko Brown (best books to read non fiction txt) 📖

Boom!

The car lurched to theright, launching her into the back of the driver’s seat. Twoheaves forward, a horrible hiss, and the car rolled into a ditch.Wedged between the seat, lying on her back, Celeste glanced up at theroof of the car.

“Is everyone okay?”Bigelow leaned over the seat. A nasty gash cut through his left brow,blood was dripping down his temple.

“Other than my pride,I’m fine,” Celeste groaned, peeling herself from thebaseboard. “What happened?”

“Georgie’s gonnacheck under the hood. Ya’ll climb out, while he gives her alook over.”

Grateful for the briefrespite from the road, Celeste crawled out. While she settled besideMaybelline in the shadow of a cornfield, the main bus came amblingback up the highway, crossed the median and parked behind thedisabled woodie.

“So what’s theverdict?” Bigelow asked when Georgie reappeared from under thehood.

“She’sblown a gasket,” Georgie, resident driver, mechanic and roadhand, surmised. “She isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Will it run again?”

Georgie pulled ahandkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped the oil from his hands. “Yeah, if you replace the entire engine.”

And that would take severaldays, Celeste groaned. But that wasn’t the worst of theirtroubles. Making a late start of it, they needed to be in KansasCity by the afternoon to go through at least one run of the show thenhit the stage for their first performance.

“Can we all cram ontothe bus?”

“She’s alreadyfilled to the gills as it is. Five more bodies, all the costumes andour luggage? We’ll be risking more than the woodie. We’regonna have to split up the group.” Bigelow turned to Georgie.“You take the bus into the next town and see if we can getsomeone to haul the woodie in and find a replacement.”

When things couldn’tget any worse, a green bus with shamrocks painted in the windowslumbered past, slowed down and then pulled off the road. Celeste’sheart dropped into the pit of her stomach like a day old coldbiscuit.

“What in the hell?”Bigelow murmured as the Paddy Wagon backed up. “That Colt. 45still in the glove box, Georgie? The roadie nodded. “Go getit.”

“Sure thing, Big.”

Like a tall drink of water,Shane stepped down from what had once been his tour bus. His tallframe was molded in a chambray shirt and a pair of black corduroys. His dark hair was hidden under a tweed paper boy cap.

“Wellhello, big daddy.” Maybelline sat up straighter, shouldersthrust back, size forty D breasts at salute.

“You folks need somehelp?” Shane held his hand out to Bigelow. “I’mShane…Shane McAllister.”

So he was going by his realsurname?

“Our station wagonblew a head gasket.”

“Mindif I take a look?”

Bigelow looked to Georgie. The roadie nodded his head, giving his consent. Shane ducked hishead under the hood. He prodded around, said a few ‘yeahs’and ‘hungh hunghs’, then came back up for air.

“You’re goingto need a head gasket and possibly a new radiator as well. Lookslike she’s been running hot for a while.”

Celeste fidgeted. Her seathad become unbearably hot. And it was his entire fault. He talkedcar parts and she was getting turned on.

“We were thinkingabout hauling the wagon in and finding a temporary replacement,”Bigelow said, unaware of Celeste’s situation. “In theconfusion, we got a little sidetracked. We need to be in Kansas Citybefore the sunsets, but the bus is already jam-packed. ”

Shanelooked at his wrist watch. “You’re running it mightyclose. You probably have another one hundred miles to go. You’retaking a huge risk thinking you can locate a replacement. The nexttown’s Boonville. You’ll be hard pressed to findanything suitable there.”

Bigelow scratched the backof his head. “We didn’t think that far ahead.”

“If you don’tmind, I’d like to offer a solution.” Shane’s gazemet hers and an electric current seemed to pass between them as ifhe’d physically touched her. She felt it all over body, on herbreasts, between her legs. “I’m also heading to KansasCity. I wouldn’t mind the extra company.”

Before she could offer up anexcuse to separate company, Maybelline jumped up. “That wouldbe a fabulous idea. I’m happy to be rid of that cramped box,”she gushed, drawing Shane’s regard. His gaze held neitherinterest nor dislike. All the same, Celeste didn’t like himlooking at another woman.

Bigelow stepped forward andshook Shane’s hand. “We’ll accept your offer, ifyou allow us to pay for the gas.”

Shane smiled broadly and theproverbial ball and chain clicked around Celeste’s ankle.

Did the woman ever stoptalking? The canary of the troupe had definitely earned hernickname. For the past hour and a half she’d talked nonstop. Shane wondered if he draped a towel over her head would she finallyshut up.

Still,Shane couldn’t bemoan his situation. Just this morning, he’dtried talking himself into throwing in the towel and heading back toNew York. He’d lost that argument and like a love sick puphopped onto US40.

Good thing. His luck hadtaken a sharp upswing, his stock more than quadrupling when he’dcome across Celeste and her entire troupe stuck on the side of thehighway.

He couldn’t haveplanned things any better if he’d tried. And he would takeadvantage of his sudden turn in fortunes. Shane glanced up in therear view mirror. Her eyes met his. In the moment before she lookedaway, her eyes shot daggers at him.

Shane grinned. She lookedfit to be tied! And that spoke volumes. In order for a person to bejealous, they had to care. His ears might be bleeding by the timethey rolled into Kansas City, but he’d grin and bear it. Heck,he’d drive this bus to hell and back.

He’d been handed aboon that would afford him the opportunity to coax her back to herold self. The old Celeste that screamed his name even when he lostcontrol during their love making, made him feel ten feet tall andloved him unconditionally.

“Needtime to warm up?” Bigelow asked, his fingers playing over theivory keys. Upon arriving in Kansas City, the troupe had headedstraight to the Lincoln Theatre for dress rehearsals. With seatingfor fifteen hundred,