A Sweet Christmas Treat
Today’s Teaser: a sweet Christmas treat
My story A SWEET MONTANA CHRISTMAS is about a couple with more than their share of burdens. They’ve lost their way in life, and with each other and although their love remains, they don’t know how to find their way back. They find themselves starting over on a derelict honey farm in Montana. I loved writing this book so much!
One of my favorite scenes in this story is when Austin, the husband, attempts to wash his wife’s hair. The hot-water tank is out of commission and the facilities are, shall we say, rustic. But he wants so badly to make Melinda less miserable and so he does this clumsy, thoughtful thing that ends up being a bit of a mess. Those are, I think, the most romantic gestures; not the ones that work perfectly, but the ones that involve risk, the chance of failure, of being laughed at.
**
Austin set the aluminum tub on the butcher-block table in the kitchen.
“Come here,” he said.
Melinda looked at him with caution, but he could feel excitement, thrumming like a field, around her like a field.
Fear and temptation.
She stepped up to him and he handed her a towel.
He wanted to unzip that thick hoodie and pull it off. To lift up the shirt beneath, little by little, revealing her creamy torso by inches, until he could see the lower swelling of her breasts.
“Eyes up, big guy.”
He jumped. “Sorry.” He laughed shakily. “Habit.”
He gestured to the chair. “Sit. Put this around your neck. I’d ask you to take off your top, but…”
To his surprise, she slipped out of her hoodie. Underneath, she wore a tank top and it was fantastically obvious that she was braless.
Her breasts looked larger, the nipples pink and straining through the thin fabric.
He adjusted his pants. This was going to be harder than he thought, pun intended.
“Are you going to wash my hair, Austin?”
She asked it in a smoky voice that might have come straight out of an old western saloon. Low and slow and smooth as honey.
“I am.” He helped her lean back and draped her hair into the small tub. “Comfortable?”
“I’m okay.”
He scooped a bowlful of water and poured it over her head, being careful not to get any in her eyes.
She groaned, deep in her throat, a sound that sent more blood rushing southward, a sound he’d only heard when she was in his arms, sweaty, sated and limp with pleasure.
He stroked her hair, lifting it and continuing to pour, getting every bit saturated.
Then he squirted a handful of shampoo and began massaging it into her head. He’d never done this before and water splashed onto the table.
A bit of foam dripped onto her throat, then slid slowly toward the neckline of her tank top. She lifted her hand and caught it, without looking. The sight of her fingers, caressing her skin, so close to those rosy nipples…
“Ow!”
The towel beneath her neck slipped, allowing the sharp edge of the tub to bite into her skin.
“Damn, sorry, baby,” he said. He tried to tug it up but his soapy hands slipped. He bumped the tub with his elbow and suds splashed onto the table.
Way harder than he expected. In every way.
Suddenly he was aware of Mel, giggling. She put her hand to her mouth, trying to hide it, to let him carry on.
Then she grasped the back of her head and sat up, dragging the towel with it, laughing freely.
He felt like an idiot. Washing a woman’s hair was supposed to be a sensual thing, not a comedy show.
She leaned forward, laughing with her whole body now, and he felt the humor tickle him, too.
“That,” she said, between gasps, “was the single best shampoo… I’ve ever had.”
“Liar,” he said. But her joy unlocked something inside him and before he knew it, the two of them were bracing themselves against each other, bent over at the waist, howling, while water dripped onto the floor and Mel’s still-soapy hair sagged onto her shoulders.
“We’re going to have to heat more water,” said Mel, when she got her voice back. “I need a rinse.”
Her face was flushed and her now mostly-transparent tank top had slipped off one shoulder. Dark hair, red lips, those pink nipples. She looked like a strawberry sundae, with chocolate drizzle and whipped cream on top and yeah, he wanted to eat her up.
“There’s enough hot water,” he said, taking her hand, “to do this properly.”
Embracing a Spacious Tomorrow
- At July 29, 2017
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 0
I’m embracing a spacious tomorrow, as the Summer of Renovations continues with a house purge to end all house purges.
I’m so tired. It’s been a long time coming, my friends.
Furniture Serendipity
- At November 05, 2015
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 0
So you know how you go to the mall for shoes sometimes and end up buying a couch? Well that happened to us recently. To be fair, we’d been toying with the idea for a long time. A long time. Because you know, there’s always a better use for the money, right? Anyway, it all started in the Bay, when hubby went to the bathroom.
I’m in line to buy a housecoat to replace the one that got amniotic fluid on it when I was in labor with baby #3. (She’s in second year university now. Don’t worry, I washed the housecoat.) Hubby texts me. Meet me in furniture. Ah yes. You have to go through the furniture department to get to the washrooms.
Be right there I respond. Shouldn’t be long; there are only two women in front of me. The first one has three bras from three different tables and one second AFTER the cashier completes the sale, exclaims, “Hey. They’re supposed to be on sale.”
“Sorry,” says the cashier. “The ones ending in .98 are excluded.”
“That can’t be right,” says the woman and proceeds to usher the cashier to the various tables, arguing with her about it. This goes back and forth for awhile.
You coming? texts hubby. I want to show you something.
Seen it I respond.
No, not that. It’s a couch.
The woman with the bras is considering whether or not the $2.50 is going to make or break the deal. She goes with break and stalks off, affronted.
“Wait!” calls the cashier. “I need your credit card to void the purchase!”
A chase ensues.
A few minutes I text.
Hurry he responds.
They get rid of the bra-less wonder, finally, and what do you know. The next one is using a gift card that may or may not have expired.
On my way I tell him. The tide turns. The gift card works. My housecoat is on sale. All is well in my world.
We cross paths on the escalator, he coming down to find me, me going up to meet him. He leaps the divide and drags me over to this enormous Natuzzi sectional.
“Sit,” he says. “Isn’t it comfortable?”
“You win the lottery?” I ask, running my hands over the buttery-soft leather.
It’s solid, big and gorgeous, just the kind we’ve been drooling over forever – and way, waaayyy more than I want to spend. Ever. For that money, it should have wheels.
“Look,” he tells me, pointing to the tag. “Half price.”
Okay, I’m impressed. But it’s still more than I want to spend. But he has a triumphant, hopeful expression on his face. He takes me over to another sectional. It’s disassembled, so it looks a bit sad, but it’s exactly the same as the one I just sat on.
“What?” I said. “It’s the same one. Still too expensive.”
He points to a teeny, tiny scuff mark. “See that? Twenty percent off the sale price. The sale price!”
Whoa.
We go home, take some measurements, think about how to rejig the room. And yup, two days later, it came home. We spent the day moving stuff, reorganizing and cleaning. My back hurt but you know what? I got to alternate hot and cold packs while sitting on an awesome new couch!
What do you think?