Oh my gosh, I can't believe its November already...What? And that it's nearly over? OMG! Time really does fly!
I hope that you know but just in case, let me say how very much I appreciate all you magnificent readers. I'm like Wow! Because of you my romance novel, Man of Her Dreams, continues selling on Amazon.
And of course, that means someone out there is reading it!!
It always spurs me on to keep plotting and writing the next installment-
Glory Daze, a novel featuring Dottie and Earl on their anniversary road trip. So many funny things happen to them, none the least that they find amusing at the time but you know what they say, don't you?
'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.'
I swear, by the time they get back home-
if they get back- they'll be able to bench a truck! Or at least the vintage old Honda they're riding. Do you wanna peek? They've stopped at a motel for the night after a grueling day on the road.
* * *
Dot came out of the bathroom wearing her
comfortable green robe. “I feel as if I’ve hit the ground from a forty-foot
drop,” she said as she wobbled into the room,. Her body ached in
places she’d forgotten she had. “Are you sure we didn’t wipe out back there?”
Earl
balanced on the edge of the chair trying to toe off his new leather boots. “Back where?” he managed to squeak out as
he tugged on the offending boot.
“Here, there. I don’t know. Where the heck
are we?” She slid around the edge of the bed stopping at the foot where he’d
tossed their luggage. “Every bone in my body hurts,” she said, unzipping the
leather bag. “I’m glad I remembered to
pack the ointment.” Dot retrieved the tube of topical arthritis pain medicine.
“Be a sweetie and rub some on my back.”
Earl was pulling on the heel of his
boot, his face red and forehead dotted with sweat. “Let me get these damn shoes
off first” he grimaced, hooking the boot’s heel on the edge of the coffee table
and pulled. A white stocking foot slowly emerged. He repeated the process,
freeing his other foot from the stiff leather boot and sent it sailing across
the room.
He fell back into the plush chair cushions;
both arms flung to his side as he closed his eyes. “Ahhh.” He flexed his feet
and wiggled his toes. “Whose idea was it to wear new boots, anyways?”
“Yours,
remember? Along with the leather jacket and Oakley’s?” She eyed the white double
duvet on the bed and made slow process toward the center of the cushiony
mattress. “No sense looking like an
amateur, you said.”
“As
if. You forget, this isn’t my first rodeo.”
“Yeah. And the Honda’s no horse, either.”
“I’ll admit these days I’m more of a soft
leather type. Like George Clooney or Cary Grant …” Dot held back a laugh. Ha! George
Clooney my foot. And the only resemblance Earl had to Cary Grant was the
dusting of gray hair.
“…distinguished. Comfortable. Did we by any
chance pack my Rockford’s?”
She gave a weak grin and twisted
her shoulders left, then right, stiff joints cracking noisily as she moved.
“They’re in the bag. I’ll dig them out in the morning,” Once more holding out
the lotion. “But for now, can we concentrate on me? Please? I can’t get rid of
these kinks in my lower back."
“In a minute, Dot. I wanna make sure you
packed the shoes.”
She shrugged and tilted her head;
the continual racket as she attempted to loosen her neck was drowned by embarassing creeks
coming from her knees as she tried to sit cross-legged on the bed. She should
probably just pop a couple ibuprofens and forget the lotion. Earl looked worn
out as he stood rummaging through the satchel.
“Aha!”
he said as he pulled out the worn leather shoes and set them on the floor. Earl
moved like a hundred year old turtle- backing up to the edge of the bed while keeping his
back ram-rod straight- like it were tied to a board and then descended slowly onto the mattress. Part of her
wanted to feel bad for him. Six hours on the back of a motorcycle was a tad
much. But this whole anniversary road trip was his idea. He needed to act his
age. Which was middle-aged, not some empty-headed twerp barely out of high
school.
Earl turned slowly and took the tube from her.
“Okay, Dot. Where’s it hurt?”
“A better question would be where does it
not hurt? Which would be my chin, probably
because it was cushioned against your back.”
“I know. I have a dent to prove it.” He
unscrewed the tube, making a face as the vapors released into the air. The tube
made a noise as he squirted a generous pile in his palm.
Immediately the scent of camphor wafted
between them. “I’ll be quick.” The cold ointment touched her skin followed by
Earl’s strong palms, rubbing the cream between her shoulder blades.
Naturally.
She groaned. If she had a dollar for every time she’d heard that lately she could
afford her own private masseuse. Hard to
believe they used to spend hours in bed, rubbing bottle and bottle of oil into
each other’s skin. The radio would be playing softly in the background and a
gentle breeze from a window fan gave them just the right amount of privacy in
their tiny apartment.
Splat! Earl pushed the lotion up around her
neck, massaging the nape of her neck and carelessly hitting the rim of her ears
which immediately started to burn. When did he become so rough?
Dot closed her eyes. Some things never
change despite their location. But she could pretend…let herself dream she was
being pampered in a fancy ladies spa hotel with a muscular masseuse rubbing
herbal scented oils into her skin…flirting…playing.
Lost in a daydream the smelly lotion took
on a fruity aroma, of pineapple and coconut and she pretended to feel the heat
of the tropical sun beaming down….
“How’s that?” He said, slapping her on the back. "Better?"
Pop!
The fantasy ended but the heat penetrated deep into her aching muscles brought
immediate relief. In a matter of moments soothing warmth began to work its
magic.
“Anything else?” Earl said as he capped
the tube and tossed it onto the bed. He strolled across the room in his stocking
feet, soundless, except for the noise sounding like pop-rocks coming from his
joints. “Epson salt? A pedicure? Maybe you’d like some hot towels to drape
around your sore shoulders?”
She ignored the sarcasm. “Mmm…Sounds wonderful,”
she murmured, and stretched out across the soft bed, closing her eyes. “I’d be
willing to try anything but I can hardly move much less roll over.”
She could hear Earl rummaging
around in the bag but she was too weary to open her eyes. He was big enough to
lay out his own socks.
“Who said you need to roll over?” He slid
across the spread beside her.
Suddenly cautious, and very leery of his
tone, Dot cracked one eyelid. What squirrel crawled up his leg? She twisted
just enough to see him more clearly, taking note of the gleam in his eyes as he
arched his brow. “I have just the thing here that’ll fix you right up. Something
to take the edge off.”
“The edge off what?” She attempted to
sit up, but his arm flailed out preventing her from sitting up. Instead, she
lay back and turned onto her side to face him. “Earl?”
He
raised his eyebrows rapidly in a wiggling, comical, silent-movie fashion. “Inquiring
minds want to know.”
First draft stage and all but definitely fun. I love road trips, don't you?
