Let's Talk Blogfest

Hosted by Roni Griffin @ http://fictiongroupie.blogspot.com/

I spent hours, days, trying to decide what to use for the Let’s Talk Blogfest. I thought about going serious. Maybe more lighthearted? One of my monologues I’m supposed to be cutting down. (Guilty face) Then I just decided to go with one of my favorite. I think it’s cute and swee and right now I (and possibly the rest of the world) could use a good dose of that.


This expert is from my Romantic Suspense WIP. It may or may not stay in. Hope you enjoy.


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“Does it taste better coming up or going down?” Allen couldn’t resist the urge to tease.

“Don’t make fun of me right now.” Even in the dark he could see how much discomfort she was in as she carefully made her way over to him.

With a smile on his face, he watched as she felt her way around a mushroom craved-back armchair, bumped into an end table, and finally stubbing her toe on the loveseat.

“Ow!” she whined as she fell against the soft cushions.

“How much did you drink tonight?” he asked, joining her.

“A few martinis, that’s it.” She curled her legs beneath her. “Oh, and maybe one or two shots of tequila.”

Allen was shocked. “No wonder you got so sick. That can take down most men, much less a little squirt like you.” Then he asked the obvious, “You sure that’s all you had?”

Having already had this argument, the underlying hurt returned to her voice. “I’m not wasted, if that’s what you’re wondering. I may be stupid, but I’m not stupid enough to do drugs. Okay?”

“Okay! I’m sorry. How would I know? I had to ask.”

“Don’t yell!” She grabbed her head with her shaky hands. “I don’t feel well.”

“No kidding.” He laughed at her childish tone.

“The room’s spinning.” Putting her palms against her sweaty face, she asked, “If I fall, try to catch me, okay?”

“You’re sitting down, Shorty.”

“Oh…” She gave him a sheepish grin.

“You’re a full time job, you know that?” He moved as if he meant to leave her and she quickly gripped a frantic hold of his shirt, bringing him back down to a sitting position.

“Please, don’t go. I don’t wanna be alone.”

He took her hands gently, telling her, “Just lay down. I’ll be right back.”

Groaning, she did as he asked, moving into a fetal position. When that brought no comfort, she stretched her body across the sofa, trying to ignore another wave of nausea. A few brief seconds later, Allen returned with a wet washcloth he retrieved from her bathroom.

“Feeling any better,” he asked, pressing the cool cloth across her forehead.

Mary slowly opened one of her blue eyes. “Allen?” The way she said his name caused him to pause. It was delightfully sweet sounding. “I usually don’t drink this much.” She sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position. “I mean, I never get drunk like this. I’m not a lush or anything…”

“I never said you were.” He flipped the washcloth over.

“But you probably thought it, didn’t you?”

“Why do you care what I think?” Her eyes blinked open. He had a strange look on his face. It was like he was trying very hard not to smile or look amused. And for the second time that day Mary wished she could somehow read his mind to discover what he was thinking as he looked down at her that way.
“I don’t. I guess.” She shrugged, shutting her eyes again. It was becoming difficult to keep them open. “I just—I wanted you to know. I don’t want you to think bad about me.”

Without answering, Allen removed the rag from her forehead. The room went quite and her mind worried that he really did leave her this time.

“Allen?” She called out for him again.

“What, Shorty?” That deep voice was strangely comforting to her ears, soothing. It didn’t even bother her that he continued to call her Shorty.

“That guy I was with…” her voice trailed off.

“What about him?”

“He wasn’t trying to pick me up or anything.” Mary didn’t know why it was so important he knew this, she just knew it needed to be said. “His name’s Evan something. He’s our tour manager.  He wanted to talk business. He wasn’t hitting on me.”

It was silent for a long moment then she finally heard him say, “No more talking.” Then he placed the back of his hand on her forehead.  The weight and warmth of his touch comforted her and she didn't feel so bad anymore.

“Try to get some sleep.” Allen lifted his hand—Mary quickly settled it back in place.

“Your hands are so soft. You have the gentlest touch. Do you know that? I like that about you. I really do.” A sweet smile filled her face. “You can be very gentle and warm with me when you wanna be . . . only when you wanna be.”
“Say what?"  He was stunned by her complete turnaround. A few hours ago she was yelling and threatening bodily harm and now… "You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” Allen leaned in close, whispering, “I think it would be best if I pretend you never said that.” She stayed silent.  For a moment he thought she had finally fallen asleep. Then she called out his name again.

“What now?” An amused smile filled his usually rough features.

“I’m sorry I snuck out.”

He sighed softly. “Don’t worry about it.” Realizing an olive branch when he saw one, he extended one of his own. “I’m sorry I treated you like a piece of meat.”

“You should be.” Mary smirked. Then, since she was apologizing, she thought it best to apologize for everything.

“I didn’t mean to call you an ass.”

“It’s okay.  I can be an ass sometimes.”  He paused before telling her, “I’m sorry I called you stupid.” Mary barely heard his words, she was drifting fast.  All she could think about was the large hand stroking her hair softly. Something in this small gesture made her feel safe, protected, cared for.  It was a wonderful feeling.

“It’s okay. I am stupid…some—times…” her words faded. Then her head fell to the side, unable to hold off sleep any longer.

Allen watched as she slipped farther into a deep, peaceful slumber. Strangely, he found himself having to fight the strong urge to place a tiny kiss on her forehead. While there—watching as she was lost in her dreams—he felt, for the first time, this was exactly where he was supposed to be. He was supposed to be right here watching over her. Suddenly feeling very protective, he grabbed the blanket she brought out for him. Placing it over her, tucking her in, he whispered, “Goodnight…Mary.”

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Hope you liked it. And please check out all the other hard working writers out there who are taking part. You can find a list here: http://fictiongroupie.blogspot.com/2010/04/lets-talk-blogfest.html