Under the Weather

As usual I have a mile-long to-do list. But a sore throat started Friday evening, and I've been feeling a bit icky ever since, so I've only crossed a few things off. I'm about to cross off one more when I throw the last load of laundry in the dryer; it's only taken me two days. Oh well.

Our big snowstorm is a bust. We got maybe 5 or 6" before it changed to sleet, a couple hours ahead of when the forecast said it would change over. It's still sleeting, though, and we haven't seen a salt truck through the neighborhood. Some idiot thought they should plow this morning, but not to salt, so I can't wait to see the ice rink in the morning when I have to head to the office. At least we're starting late tomorrow, though I'm still holding out hope they tell us we're not going to open at all. Then I can keep my germs at home. I guess we'll find out in the morning.

Before I go put that last load of wash in the dryer, I have a snippet for you this week from Protecting Medusa.

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            She glared at him. “I’m not leaving.”

            He raised one dark blond eyebrow. “I don’t remember asking you.”

            She set her fork down. “Just because I made a mistake and slept with you does not give you permission to make my decisions. Also, you are no longer in the military, and not my commanding officer. And, FYI, I will not be sleeping with you again.”

            He laughed. “Not much sleeping going on, the way I remember it.”

            Heat scorched her face, and Philomena growled, curling her fingers into fists on the table. “I am not looking for a relationship, and even if I were, you wouldn’t be at the top of my wish list.” Good Gods, no. 

            Ryder took a drink, though she couldn’t understand how, with that miserable grin still spread over his face. “You, Mena, are afraid to be in a relationship with a man stronger than you are.”

            She blinked at him, her heart pounding faster. “What?” How could a man she’d managed to avoid for so long know so much about the way her brain worked?

            “I’ve seen your ‘dates’. Bunch of pansies, without a spine in the whole lot. You pick men who won’t argue when you decide you’re done with them.” He lifted his fork. “It’s a tactic I’m immune to.” He scooped up more eggs.

            Her mouth was dry, but she refused to lift her glass and let him know he’d hit the mark with his assessment of her. “How long have you been spying on me?” she asked instead.

            He shook his head, swallowing his eggs. “Just trying to make sure you were safe. Can’t have you bringing danger home to Jason.”

            That was low, and she shot him a fierce glare. “I have never dated anyone who was a danger to Jason,” she ground out.

            “I know.” His grin remained smug, and she wanted to smack it off his face.  “You’ve never dated anyone who was a threat to your remaining single either.”

            She shoved away from the table, her chair screeching with the sudden movement. “My dating is none of your business.” She jolted to her feet and spun away.

            “You haven’t dated anyone who would present any sort of challenge to you,” he continued from behind her when she walked the few steps to the sink. “Is it because you’re really that afraid, or because you were just waiting for the right man to come along?”

            She shook her head, anger and fear clogging her throat, and gripped the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles turned white. There was no ‘right man’ for her. Not for the Medusa. 

            Behind her, his chair scraped over the floor. “I’m not a spineless wonder like any of those guys,” he said, his booted footsteps drawing nearer. “And I’ve been waiting a very long time, so I’m not going away quietly.”

            Philomena shut her eyes.

            His big hands settled on her shoulders. “But I promise I’ll never hurt you, Mena,” he whispered, too close to her ear.

            She jabbed her elbow into his ribs, hard, surprising him into releasing her. She slid away along the counter. “But I might hurt you.” She patted the hilt of her dagger through her skirt as she faced him. “You know I’m armed, right?”

            He rubbed his side where she’d elbowed him, still grinning. “Bring it, baby.”

            Her jaw dropped, and he laughed. Suddenly, his smile vanished.

            “Get down.”

            “What?” She frowned.

            He pushed her to a crouch, then moved through the doorway of the guest room, grabbing his gun from the open bag on the bed.

            Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of it.

            “We have company,” he breathed, peering through the narrow space she’d made when she parted the living room curtains earlier to let some morning light in.

            She fumbled her skirt out of her way and unsheathed her dagger, wrapping her fingers tight around the hilt. It felt good against her palm, but her hand shook. Two days in a row was a little much.

            “Hang onto that.” He stepped to the alarm panel and shut the system off, then eased out the back door, his posture cautious.

            Philomena shut her eyes. Oh Gods, don’t let the Harvester hurt him. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to him because of her. Jason would be heartbroken. She opened her eyes and took a quick breath. She couldn’t be sitting here in the middle of the floor if Ryder didn’t walk back in. She crawled behind the door, where she could see through the crack between door and frame.

            And waited.

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Ah, while I was working on this, the plow just roared up the street. I hope when they're done plowing, they're throwing salt down, too. Though it is still sleeting, and we're supposed to have freezing rain for a couple of hours, as well.

Did you get any of the snow/sleet/freezing rain this weekend where you are? Makes for a good day to stay cozy with a good book, doesn't it? Our extended forecast has more snow for next weekend, but that's a long way off, in weather-guessing land.

Until next week, happy reading!