Author's Note: Good afternoon, y'all. I'm always glad when an OC is accepted so readily. I'm glad you like Frank's potential beau and since you all did, the chapter will be their first meeting and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

Jacqueline's POV

One thing that I'm never going to understand is how snow can be so beautiful but cause so much misery at the same time. My boys offered to drive down and dig me out but I told them to stay put. Even though Trenton isn't nearly as far from NYC as New Orleans, I don't want them wasting their gas money on something I can do on my own. I'm old, not helpless and hell, I'm not that old. I can still pull off a packed shift on the Line without keeling over and can put my legs behind my head with no trouble.

Hopefully, I'll be able to move my legs that way not on a yoga mat but in a bed.

Oh, God…see what happens when I act neighborly? I end up thinking like a horny schoolgirl and lord knows, thinking like that's led to nothing but trouble for me. Point Blank: The only good things that came out of my marriage are Jamal Michael, Jonathon Xavier, and 75% of my scoundrel ex's estate. The Pre-Nup just said Proven Infidelity and while I may have spent the second decade of our 28 year marriage regretting my impulsive decision to marry him, I never cheated on him once, much to my benefit. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not a gold digger but I am a vengeful person. You hurt me and I will find the best, most brutal way to hurt you back with a smile. The best way to hurt Carl was to cripple him financially because he sure as hell didn't love me anymore, the damned dirty bastard…

The point is that I'm getting ready to dig through 7 inches of snow and ice while also waiting for a phone call from a man who on paper is absolutely perfect for me. I still don't know why I told Valerie the whole sordid story so quickly. The young woman just had a way about her that made you want to talk so when she came over with an absolutely divine lemon pound cake to welcome me to the neighborhood, my shields dropped like a Mardi Gras girl's tube top.

She told me about one Frank Plum, her Vietnam vet father and recent divorcee. She also told me about her little sister (who I need to meet as soon as possible…Anyone that takes Bombshell literally has to be a hoot to hang around with), her recent marriage to a Cuban God, and the way Frank's ex-wife's machinations got the jackass ex in the story sent up the River for at least 15 to Life. Then, she went into detail about her 3 babies, her bumbling but sweet second husband, and her wild grandmother. She spoke of all of them fondly but I couldn't help but feel that the Plum family was a little too roughneck for my tastes and I intended on letting her down gently.

That was before I saw the picture of her father. Immediately, my mind went back to Vietnam and the gorgeous Special Ops soldier boy that had literally staggered into my camp one balmy day. I remembered those big baby blues looking at me through six layers of grime and the way he had murmured so sweetly that I was too fucking gorgeous to be stuck in the hellhole before passing out on my lap. He had been rushed into emergency surgery and left the camp sedated before I could really talk to him. He probably didn't even remember me.

I never forgot about him, though and I immediately gave Valerie a recent picture and my number to give to him. Roughneck family or not, it was no coincidence that Sweet Blue Eyes was back on the fringes of my life and I'm bound and determined to get to know him this time.

And if I happen to be able to move my legs with him, then so much the better.

Opening the door to start my task, I found myself looking at a large bouquet of pink carnations and those big baby blues. My, my…age has certainly been kind to him. Sure, he had bit of middle age spread but I'm sure he's just as solid as he was back in the day.

"Ms. Jacqueline DuBois?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Ma'am, my name is Frank Plum and my daughter Valerie mentioned that you were interested in talking to me."

'That's true. Are these for me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Still fine as wine and polite, to boot. I haven't been respectfully called ma'am since before I was shipped home. Taking the fragrant bundle, I inhaled deeply and smiled, a smile that he answered easily, sending my heart all a-twitter.

Oh yes, sweetheart. You'll do quite nicely.

"Call me Jackie. Come on in out of the cold."