Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Whet Wednesday

I'm sitting in my living room enjoying seeing the sun streaming through the oversized double window. It is rare for winter in Tennessee to have a cloudless day. And today is one of them.

The wind whips through the porch rails on the north side of the house, around the corner of the house,  and with its ferocity makes the front porch swing dance and sway in the gusts.

The tinkling of the wind chimes  lulls and increases to a frantic beat with each strong gust, but never ceases it's song. While all of this is enjoyable, what this means is that it's below freezing outside. Not just below freezing for the temperatures this week haven't risen above 29. It's in the single digits in actual temperature right now, and with the wind chill it's below 0. A rarity in our parts.

But, hopefully this scene will warm you up.

I left you Sunday with the beginning of chapter 5. This is somewhere near the end of that chapter.

Casting a glance sideways, Insane. He was certifiably insane. He’d lost his ever-loving mind. Did insanity run in his family? Rumors of an aunt or uncle on his father’s side a hundred years or so back, but were there any recent?
That was the only explanation he had for spending the day at the beach.
He knew he was in trouble when she’d walked out of her bedroom in a sheer blue shirt that didn’t leave any part of her body to his imagination, and barely hit below her hips. Did he mention sheer?
The bikini beneath, if a few scraps of material could be called a bathing suit, in the same light blue served to zero his eyes in on every part of her body, he’d dreamed of touching. The order to march back into the bedroom and put some clothes on, preferably a parka hovered on his lips.
Anger and jealousy, where the hell did that emotion come from, held him in its grip as they walked in the sand, weaving around beachgoers, finding an empty spot. Every male from the age of twelve to seventy fell over their feet at the sight of Shelbie. He wanted Shelbie all to himself.
As the day wore on, he’d growled at more than a few guys who’d thrown a Frisbee their way. At one point, Dagan thought he would have to pull a young man, who almost drowned, from the ocean when Shelbie bent over to pick up a seashell.

He couldn’t tell her what she did to him. The sight of her lying on the beach in the barely there bikini shot straight to his groin. Or her laughter piercing his chest like cupids arrow. And he wasn’t about to recall the texture of her silky skin beneath his hands as he rubbed sunscreen on her back or when she pointed at a toddler, chasing hid dad, on stubby legs,  making him ache for one of their own.

By that time they’d been there for hours, suggesting a walk and eating at the beachside restaurant edge had been a good idea. Until Shelbie, flashing him a dreamy look. Her sexy voice drifting toward him, saying the only thing she was hungry for was him almost had him lifting her over his shoulder, carrying her to the truck and tearing for her house. 

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