Who Says I Can’t Write Romance, Huh?

Posted: October 3, 2013 in Excerpts
Tags: , , ,

Okay, one more excerpt.

About that time our food arrived and we dug in. We made light but pleasant conversation as we ate, and then when I realized it was full dark outside and both our bellies were full and I needed to stretch my legs something awful, I invited Polly Rabathorn for a walk along the Llano River.
And, of course, she accepted.


How to speak of that which is unspeakable? How to describe the feeling of the right person at your side while you walk along the quiet water’s edge on a cool night with the bright coin of a moon limned in azure as your only lamp? And how to relate the sense of both wonder and dread–wonder for the feeling stirring beneath each breath and the absolute dread of the misplaced step, or, more horrifying, the misplaced word–anything that could break the spell. So to stave off any danger there I spoke little.
She took my hand and we walked more closely to the water. Damned if I couldn’t feel anything but a fatalistic thudding in my chest, the closeness of her and the light scent of the shampoo she had washed her hair with that morning. I couldn’t, for the life of me, feel my feet.
After perhaps half a mile of walking we came among a stand of pecan trees, the beginning of private land, and the moon hid itself above high branches. The leaves crunched beneath us.
She stopped and so I stopped. She pivoted around in front of me, her hand touched my cheek in the darkness and her fingers drew softly across my face, no doubt feeling razor stubble.
“Kiss me, Shane Robeling,” she whispered. “It’s either that or start talking to me.”
There were no words to say, and so I selected the finer, sweeter alternative.


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