S'more Smoochin'

As if I wasn't weird enough already...

I have an odd aversion to my own kissing scenes.  Just the thought of reading them aloud makes me want to vomit.  Or at least wince.

That said, I can't not write them.  My life is romance-free enough without allowing celibacy to enter into my fictional love life as well. So, they do indeed make it onto the page.  

Let's all be grateful I'm not doing a live reading of this section or there would be an awkward pause, a healthy amount of blushing, and possibly girlie giggling on my part. Since we're online, enjoy the smoochin'!

Excerpt from Sylvi Lockhart 

“I can’t believe we lost her,” I said, as we walked past various shops and corner cafes.  After seeing Jesse navigate city traffic in a rickety truck without losing track of his prey, I never would have imagined we’d lose a little old lady on foot.  But Old Dolly seemed to have vanished into thin air just the same.
“Maybe she jumped into a car,” I mused. Then, another thought occurred to me. “You don’t think she knew we were following her, do you?”

“No, she glanced at us once or twice, but didn’t seem alarmed.”  Jesse seemed a little disappointed, but in his usual upbeat fashion he was making the best of it.  “At least we have a lead.”

“Yeah?” I challenged, the fact that I was footsore and irritated rang in my tone.  We had followed the woman all over the neighborhood, marking her progress through shops and buildings for more than an hour, and nothing she had done seemed the slightest bit suspicious.  “Like what?”

“Aw, young padawan,” he replied pressing his palms together and bowing, “you have much to learn.”

Stopping beside a dilapidated building with a FOR SALE sign posted in a dusty window, I put my hands on my hips and gave him my best squinty-eyed glare.  I didn’t appreciate being treated like a know-nothing, especially by someone who reminded me more of Peter Pan by the minute.

“All right,” he conceded. “It was the guy she spoke to at the butcher shop, the one selling fish.”

“What is it with you and fish?” I muttered, recalling the pungent fish fillets still stowed in his truck.

“Hm?” he asked, clearly confused.

I rolled my eyes and relaxed my irritated pose.  “Go on,” I said, waving one hand.

“Stanley Banks the butcher is Stan the bookie.”

“Oh.” Light dawned.  Even I had heard of Stan.  My grandfather had mentioned him a few times.

“But it’s not enough,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning back the way we’d come.  “If we’d caught her placing a bet it would be one thing, but anyone can have a friendly conversation with a bookie.  It doesn’t make you a felon.”

Falling into step beside him, I said, “There’s always tomorrow.” It was getting dark anyway, the street lit by streetlamps and the glow from store windows.  And due to my fish aversion, I was starving.

The tip-tap of heels coming down the sidewalk didn’t even register until Jesse, well-versed in covert operations, muttered, “Crap,” and backed me up against the brick building. 

“What the—” I got out before he pinned me to the wall, pressed his chest against mine, and covered my lips with his.  I was on the verge of shoving him away when I caught sight of a familiar blonde head over his shoulder.  So I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and the ruse at the same time. 

“Mmmmm…” he murmured against my mouth, his hands tangling in my hair.  Suddenly—instead of kissing so we wouldn’t be recognized by the woman we’d been following for an hour—the rest of reality faded away until nothing beyond the two of us remained, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms and fully making-out for all the world to see.  If I’d had my wits about me, I might have wondered why he didn’t taste like the fish sandwiches he’d inhaled.  As it was, I just enjoyed the feel of a man fully and truly smooching me. 

It felt unbelievable for a moment, until the thought flashed through my mind, Kevin would not approve.  As if sensing my thoughts, Jesse pulled away, blinking like someone had just turned on the lights. I let my arms fall from around him, trying not to notice that underneath that silly tee-shirt he was as nicely chiseled as Kevin had ever been.  My face grew hot. 

Obviously not feeling in the least embarassed, a slow smirk spread over Jesse’s face.  “I should have gotten a partner a long time ago,” he said.

* * * * * 

Thanks for visiting!  For more Jesse and Sylvi, check out Sarcasm & A Gun or Woman: The Most Dangerous Plaything.  Meme courtesy of Pinterest.