Today is the first day of March, and we still haven’t really had any winter here yet. Oh, we’ve had some chilly periods, but it’s been unseasonably warm for large chunks of time in the last month or two. The most snow we’ve seen was the unexpected one back in November that piled up a quick few inches that didn’t last into the next day. For winter lovers, it’s been exceptionally disappointing, though I have a friend who’s thrilled. I’m still holding out hope that we might get some snow this month–the first day of spring isn’t for weeks, and we live in Pennsylvania, where sometimes the biggest snowstorms happen in March. I’m not saying I want a blizzard (though I wouldn’t say no to one), but I would like a little taste of actual winter before spring gets here.
I’ve started looking at my second Medusa manuscript, with an eye to doing some rewrites in the next month or so. Before I get back to it, I have a little snippet of story for you, from my third shifter story.
The drive from the office to the school took fifteen minutes on a good day, so on a busy Friday afternoon, it took twenty-seven. Not counting the three additional minutes it took to find a place to park.
He climbed out of the car and waited until a shiny mini-van sped by with no regard for the other parents and children in the parking lot before he crossed, weaving around parents leading their children out–parents who had taken into account the Friday traffic and arrived early. He checked in at the security gate, and then entered the school grounds. Pandemonium. Children running around, shouting, laughing, parents calling for their kids, teachers attempting to corral some rowdies.
Knowing his kids, they wouldn’t have hurried out in the first rush. Baron dawdled.
A screech to his left had him turning in time to see a little red-haired girl leap onto her father’s back.
Boris turned to search for Baron, and a flutter of green caught his eye–a loose blouse on a curvy brunette.
Then she pivoted, laughing at the small girl holding her hand, and Bori’s heartbeat quickened–Vivi.
The breeze caught a school identification tag hung around her neck and her blouse again, this time, pressing the garment tight to her, and revealing the unmistakable curve of her belly. Her pregnant belly. It was small, but he knew what that curve meant.
And it was just about the right size…
Vivi’s smile faded as her head came up, and she sniffed the air delicately. Her gaze swung over the crowd of children and locked on his face. All of the color faded from her cheeks, and her eyes widened.
He watched the child beside her tug on her hand, and Vivi bent back to her for a second, then, reluctance lining her face, released the girl, who leaped into another woman’s arms. Vivi straightened slowly, and he strode through the throng of kids toward her.
Alarm darkened her eyes, and she glanced around, as if thinking of fleeing.
Not a chance.
Three more strides put him in front of her. Her shoulders set, and her wary gaze crawled up to his face.
“Vivi, how nice to see you,” he said softly. He leaned closer and sniffed–the same delicious, earthy scent he remembered, along with a fainter undertone of his own familiar scent. His baby.
While I go back to rewrites, I’m thinking about making some hot chocolate to go with them. Even if it doesn’t feel like winter, it still is winter, so why not? What’s your go-to winter drink? And are you team winter or team warm?
(hot chocolate – Depositphotos)