Here in the States, tomorrow is Thanksgiving day. Many of us will be traveling or preparing, and some of us will be in the kitchen preparing. What better theme for #1lineWed than **FOOD**? Sitting around the table, moaning about eating too much as one more bite of pie is shoved in, families, friends…ah, the joy. 😉 One of these days, I need to write a scene where the Wolves celebrate Thanksgiving. One of these days. In the meantime, here’s a scene with Wizard and Jen. It’s pretty self-explanatory. I hope you enjoy.
Wizard eyed the food court like he was sizing up a rival gang. I managed to hide my eye roll when he glanced my way.
“Babe, you can’t be serious.”
“It’s the mall, Wizard.”
“Don’t you go to the mall?”
“Oh, hell no!” He growled. At me!
He was the one who insisted on coming with me. While I wasn’t a huge fan of shopping, there were some things a girl can’t get at the local Gas-n-Go or truck stop. Since this particular mall had a Victoria’s Secret, I planned to shoo Wizard into some guy-type store then duck into Vicky’s to buy something to wear for him as a special surprise. Why? Because this man made me—despite my extra padding—feel beautiful.
That was the plan. Except Wizard was a biker. No auto parts store or Harley shop in sight. I’d totally miscalculated. Plan B was to park him in the food court, head to the ladies room then sneak away.
“C’mon. I need food,” I said.
We got drinks, snagged a table and I made my excuses.
“No? I can’t go to the bathroom?”
“Yes, you can go to the bathroom. No, you aren’t going alone. I’m going with you.”
I didn’t screech. Much. “You can’t.” All my plans were collapsing. I inhaled deeply, squared my shoulders and with as much dignity as I could muster, informed him, “I’m quite capable of walking from here to the restroom, strolling inside, doing my business, and returning.
He shook his head, totally adamant. “Nope. Not happening. You aren’t leaving me here alone.” He swept out his arm. “Teenage girls.”
“They always travel in packs.”
Who knew? My big, bad biker was afraid of teenagers.
“And they’re staring at me.”
They *were* staring, like they wanted to eat him for dessert. Maybe I didn’t need sexy lingerie after all.
I’m thankful for all of you dropping by, and reading my books, and listening to me gritch, and understanding when I want to hide from the world. If you have some food words to share, please do. Because, you know, it really does come down to the eats. 😉