***Story is working towards the finish line, and then I'm going to send to friends to beta-read. And hopefully send it out to possibly be published. But figured I'd post a teaser aside from tiny quotes on my author page for it.***
“Are you
ready?”
“I’ve
always been ready, you know that.”
“What,
you’ve always been ready to get hitched?”
“No…. I’ve always been ready to start another
chapter with you, you goof! Who you are,
the way we are…you are air to me that helps me feel free. I’d rather shackle myself to someone that
loves me and makes my heart flutter like hummingbirds are stuck in my chest and
puts a fog in my brain that I can see clearly through, than anyone else.”
“Hummingbirds,
really?” Tristan smirked, grabbing both of my hands and whirling me around
until he had my back against a tree.
“Well, if kisses be the food of love….”
“It’s music
you dork,” I laughed, as he went in to kiss me.
I lightly pressed against his chest as I slid my face away, “you’re
going to delay it.”
He moved in
closer, caught my lips with his, and then trailed to first my cheek, then my
neck. “Hmmm…so are they flying?”
“Umm…I
think it’s more of a stutter. A
stutter…and you’re making that fog awfully thick….”
He laughed
against my shoulder, “Should we get back on the path now?”
I
straightened up away from the tree as I tried to clear my head from the
feel-good veil that had filled my thoughts.
“That’s just plain cruel of you Mr. Thornehart,” I said as a small smile
played across my face.
He started
walking toward the grove where we had planned to meet the others as I watched
his shadow stretch and move across the gravestones with each stride. The light from the late afternoon sun shone
through the leaves making the old granite sparkle where it hit. The air was silent save for the crunch of twigs
and the squish of mud beneath our feet; I looked behind us, toward the cemetery
gates from which we came. The brass was
tarnished and the hinges squeaked with a light push when we had come in. People rarely came this time of the year,
because the ground was still too frozen for shovels and pickaxes, and even with
the trees and graves to block the wind, it wasn’t enough when you had to stand
beside a hole to watch a loved one be lowered down. Everyone in town preferred to wait until high
spring to put their hearts six feet deep.
We would have our privacy. We
knew this would be the best place to keep away from peering eyes, and we
thought it was more beautiful than the churches in town, and sweeter than the
courthouse.
