by Gray, June
I nodded, my eyes fixed firmly on his handsome face, then shivered. “The temperature has dropped though,” I said. “Winter is almost here.”
He took off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, covering me in his heat.
“You’re such a gentleman,” I said, pulling the jacket tighter around me.
“But you are no lady,” he said, taking my face in his big, warm hands. “You are a woman, a fighter, a wild animal, a force of nature.”
“Are you talking about me or a National Geographic documentary?” I asked with a grin. It was then I noticed puffs tiny drifting down from the sky, slowly at first then falling faster, surrounding us in white.
He looked around. “It’s snowing. In August,” he said, throwing his head back and catching some flakes with his tongue. He turned back to me, his entire face lit up. “You know, they say the Eskimos have hundreds of words for snow.”
“I had heard that,” I said, brushing snowflakes from his nose.
“I’m afraid that, despite all my pretty words and fancy learning, I have only one word to describe this blissful moment with you.”
I looked up at him, feeling the word even if it didn’t yet have a name. “What’s that?”
He pulled me against him and kissed me, long and tender. “Heaven,” he whispered against my lips. “We’re in heaven.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To my husband and daughters: thank you once again for your patience and understanding. I know it’s not easy living with a moody writer sometimes.
To my beta readers: Beth, Lara, Kerry, Shannon, Gillian, and Liza. Thank you, ladies!
Thank you to my editor, Mary at Clean Leaf Editing. You continue to amaze me.
And for the readers: Storytelling is my passion, reading is yours. Thank you for once again meeting with me in that magical place where fiction supersedes reality.
Visit June Gray’s Blog for more information on upcoming projects, news, and short stories.