Aside from going from house to car, car to day-job and vice versa, plus whatever random errands I’ve had to do in the past week, I can count on one hand the times I have gone outside voluntarily. While it isn’t quite as hot as the previous several weeks, it is still too hot and muggy for me. I am not exaggerating when I say I have weeds in the flower bed that are several feet tall–I feel badly about them, but not badly enough to spend enough time outside in the hot, muggy weather to pull them.
Since I am not getting to the beach this summer, I am beyond ready for fall, as long as it’s actually autumn-like and not just more of what we’ve been having for months now.
One escape I have (aside from the Arctic-temperatures at the day-job) is in the manuscript I’ve been working on: it’s currently winter in the segment I’ve been working on, and winter in New England, so in my head, it’s much cooler than my reality. Plus I’m past the 3/4 mark in the story, and Very Bad Things are happening right now, and the snow and cold aren’t helping my hero or heroine.
( Photo credit: Tambako the Jaguar via Foter.com / CC BY-ND )
But it is helping me, since my brain is there with them in the winter cold. Maybe by the time I get them out of this mess, it will have cooled down here, probably not to that extent, but enough that I can pull those monster weeds out of the flower bed. And in the meantime, I’ll just keep a tall cold glass of something handy, because when my characters get out of the trouble they’re in right now, things are going to get very, very hot again.
( Photo credit: I Should Be Folding Laundry via Foter.com / CC BY )
And maybe, while I head back to them, I will leave you with a little snippet of their story…
He let her have her silence for as long as it took him to finish his own pasta and swordfish, then he inched his chair closer to hers.
She shot him a wary glance, then smoothed her fingertips along the edge of the table. “I didn’t plan this,” she said softly.
“I know.” He’d used condoms all night, and he’d seen her birth control prescription in her purse when she’d dug out a brush in the morning.
“But I would never expect you to be responsible–”
He caught her chin and turned her face up to his. “You don’t know me well yet, but no child of mine will ever want for anything, Vivi. Ever.”
She swallowed, her golden eyes startled.
Suddenly, he was aware of her soft skin against his fingers, the warmth of her, the enticing scent.
That’s what got you into this, a little voice in the back of his head muttered.
Still, he stroked his thumb along her chin.
She pulled back, color tinting her cheeks. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
Good question. “I don’t think we can have this discussion here.”
She swallowed audibly.
Thinking with his dick, he mused as he paid for dinner and guided her out into the warm evening, back to the car.
Vivi stopped when he opened the passenger door, her cautious gaze searching his face.
“Just talk, Vivi,” he said firmly.
She held his gaze for another moment, then eased into the car.
Someplace neutral, he thought. That would be best. He slid his key into the ignition and started the car. But she might be more comfortable at home.
He wondered why he was so worried about her comfort, then he glanced over and noted her hand set over her belly.
That was why.
He drove back to her place, wondering what she was thinking. Probably plotting ways to get rid of him.
Not a chance.
Here’s hoping we get some fall soon!
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