Welcome to Tuesday Tales, a weekly blog where diverse authors post excerpts from their WIPs based on word and picture prompts. Today our word prompt is stolen. The snippet is from a paranormal vintage romance set in the 1950s with heroine Hannah Ross and hero Nate Larkin. Please visit my talented colleagues at Tuesday Tales.
Might as well take a stool and leave the few remaining tables for lovebirds. Or old married couples, she amended, spying the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Henry. She put a hand to her rumbling stomach. Had she eaten her customary toast this morning? She honestly couldn’t recall.
At the counter Meg’s cheery grin elicited a responding smile. “Hannah, it’s about time you thought about eating. I wish I could forget food as easily as you do. What can I get you?”
She glanced at the chalked menu board highlighting fried chicken. “Grilled cheese, fries, and iced tea. And I don’t forget about food. I’ve been busy.”
Her friend gave her a skeptical look and then scrawled the order. “Right.” In a flash the order sheet was torn off the pad and slapped onto a skewer in the pass-through window. Meg scooped ice into a glass. “You seem a little down. Something else happen with the renovation?”
She sighed and adjusted the collar of her blouse, running her thumb over the irritating wrinkle she’d made while ironing it. “It’s been one snag after another. The latest is some kind of electrical issue. The lamps blink off and on at the oddest times.”
“Shoot. Sorry about that.” Meg lowered her voice. “Any word from Roscoe on extending your deadline?”
She lowered her voice in response. “Nope. He’ll refuse. How else is he to keep my down payment and the hotel too?”
“The shifty old buzzard. Well, it’s over a month until Halloween. You’ve still got time.”
“He’s a businessman. Chances are I made a bad deal. Maybe I’m a nitwit. What made me think I could do this by myself anyway?”
“Hush. You’re not a nitwit. You’ll get it done. I’ll be there this weekend to help as usual. With the scrubbing anyway. I don’t know beans about electricity and neither does Sam. I was hoping you’d get to meet–ooh, this is your lucky day, Hannah. Here’s the dish I mentioned. Is he a dreamboat or what?”
For a moment she thought Meg referred to her grilled cheese plate, but the purr in her friend’s voice caused her to glance over her shoulder. So this was the stranger everyone was talking about. He gave Meg a friendly wave and headed toward the counter. She got a quick impression of red-blooded man.
Meg’s countenance had brightened even more. “Glad you made it for lunch, Nate. Set yourself down. How’d you manage to get out from under all the work Dave’s got you doing down at the fish camp?”
“I skedaddled when his back was turned.”
Meg lifted a jaunty eyebrow at her before favoring him with a reply. “My man Sam says stolen moments are the best.”
He settled onto a stool. “So I’m told.” His deep timbered voice brushed like rough velvet against her skin.
“Hannah Ross, meet Nate Larkin. Hannah’s the one I told you about who’s renovating the old hotel.”
Warm hazel eyes met hers. “Nice to meet you, Hannah.”
Thanks for stopping by. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Romance