A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image. You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- dice. This will be an excerpt from my new WIP for a new romance contemporary, What the Storm Didn't Take.
Conner showed up after supper time Friday evening. I’d put aside a plate for him, tucking it into the microwave. He didn’t get many home cooked meals while he was working. These clinical rotations really took every minute of his time. I heard his car and practically skipped to the front door, holding it open as a welcoming, not just letting him in.
“How are you?” He hugged me tightly with both arms.
“I’m great, been a good day. Are you terribly tired?”
“Nah, I’m okay. I actually got some sleep last night. What about you?” He looked beyond me into the house. “Did the little guy let you get some rest?”
“Absolutely.” Cuddling with Ryan was better than a teddy bear and melatonin combined. However, an image of me and Conner cuddled together gave me a peaceful feeling as well. Suddenly flustered, I gave him a little push inside, away from my wandering mind. “I’ve got you some food, we saved you a little bit of supper anyway.”
Mom walked in, smiling and holding her arms open. “Hey, Dr. Conner, how are you?”
“I’m awesome, Mrs. Blanton.” He pulled her into a bear hug.
“Would you stop calling me Mrs. Blanton? I’m Martha. Where did all this formality come from?”
“Okay, Martha. I guess it comes from being in the city too long.”
“Rachel saved you a big plate, I made sure to cook extra. She said you were coming." She blushed a little. "Well, let's just say she rolled the dice, taking a chance.”
He eyed me, giving me a grin. “Oh, she did?”
“Yes, she did. I think she told me on purpose, to make sure I cooked enough for you. How is your momma?”
“She’s fine. I’ll see her this weekend. That’s where I’m staying tonight.”
Hmm, he wasn’t going to sleep here? What was I thinking? We weren’t having a slumber party.
“Oh, pushaw, you can stay here. I’ll make up the couch in the den. It’s too late and I’m sure you’re tired. Rachel wants to fill you in on her plans for the orchard. You and I both know she’ll talk your ear off when she has an idea. You might not get to sleep until midnight.”
Thanks for embarrassing me, mom.
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