Another mid-week milestone, a hump day as we slide toward the weekend, and time for another installment of Wednesday Words. Today’s #1lineWed theme is **WIND**. Because this is March and it’s all about coming in like a lion and stuff. Around here where the wind comes sweeping down the plains, this should be an easy prompt. But MONTANA MOON is set in…Montana. This scene is fairly explanatory. Lauren has been with Tait for a few days now, but she still doesn’t know his real name. I hope you enjoy.
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Lauren now knew every nook and cranny of the house, the barn, the storage shed, and the garage. Well, except for Shooter’s bedroom. Not that she’d been snooping or anything. She was just bored. Anything interesting had to be hidden behind the thick wooden—and locked—barrier between her and the man’s inner sanctum. She spent a lot of time sitting either on the front porch or the back deck, often with Chewy at her feet. Shooter had taken the time to explain the wofldog’s name. Too bad he hadn’t bothered to fill her in on his real name.
She closed the cover on her ereader and stretched out her booted feet. After three days, she’d gotten used to the restrictive footwear whenever she went outdoors. Inside, she resorted to her flipflops or the fuzzy slippers because at this point, she was all about the comfort.
Shooter had offered to teach her to ride. She hadn’t run shrieking. Then he called her “city mouse” again and she’d spent ten minutes dressing him down. Much to his amusement. Hating to admit it, she’d flounced off. She watched the horses nibbling grass and resolved that she’d make friends with them. She’d show the annoying man that she could adapt. Except for the no internet access thing. She was blowing through the books she’d downloaded like the wind in the aspen trees.
The door behind her opened but she didn’t bother turning around. Shooter cleared his throat. “You up for a road trip?”
She swiveled around to face him. “Where to?”
“I need to make a run into White Sulphur Springs, about thirty miles from here. I’ll take you out to dinner.” Tait had carefully considered the pros and cons of taking her to the small town. He was fairly well known but there were enough tourists starting come in that he and Lauren could probably fly under the radar, especially if he picked a busy restaurant.
“Do I need to change?”
He eyed the tee covered by a flannel shirt—one of his and didn’t that just make his wolf all stupid happy—and jeans she wore. She had on the western boots he’d bought her. “Naw. You’ll fit right in with the locals.”
Lauren crinkled her nose and with a pert tone in her voice, asked, “What? No sly comment about me being a city mouse?”
Damn but she could be cute. He shifted slightly to ease the pressure below his belt. His first priority was to stay out of touching—and kissing—distance of the woman. Good thing his pickup was big. “You comin’, or what?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Was that supposed to be a double entendre?” She rocked back when she noticed the flush creeping up Shooter’s face. Now wasn’t that enlightening? That long-ago kiss hadn’t been an aberration but for some reason, he was taking great pains to stay away. She glanced down at his belt buckle and barely managed to keep her eyebrows level. They wanted to climb up her forehead in surprise. He avoided answering her question by pivoting and ducking back inside the house.
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So who has some windy words to share? And who’s ready for Tait and Lauren’s story to drop into their ereader?
Silver James 