#chasing marigolds

From Chasing Marigolds

She felt his groan followed by the brush of his tongue against her lips. Opening her mouth eagerly, she let him deepen the kiss. They’d stopped dancing and instead stumbled blinding through the crowd towards a mercifully empty corner.

It was how she’d come to find many of the books The Blank Page sold; a process she’d learned from her grandfather. “You never know the treasures you can find in a load of what other people consider rubbish,” he’d admonished as they’d trudged through yet another set of boxes. Marigold had been seventeen at the time and, tired from a third early morning’s start in as many days, nodded politely grateful for the chance to bound with her grandfather but longing for a few hours more sleep.

Estate sales yielded the best luck, she’d found, though she’d had some success in recent years with boot sales, jumble sales and the occasional clear out at a local university or library. The estate sale she’d attended a week and a half prior seemed at least vaguely promising. It had been an older home, on the outskirts of the city, that hadn’t been sorted through in years with a library jam-packed with books of every sort. She’d bought several of the boxes after quick rummage through their contents yielded several well-maintained leather-bound volumes. It was a risk, but one she’d taken often enough to know there would be at least something decent in the lot.

Try as she might, Marigold couldn’t find it in herself to focus. And lord knows, she’d tried. The harder she forced herself, the more the numbers and figures staring back at her blurred into incomprehension. What would normally take her most of an afternoon now seemed like it would be a multi-day process.

 Lovely.

 With a withered sigh of frustration, she closed the folder and dropped her head against her folded arms. It wasn’t any bloody use. The afternoon she’d planned to spend catching up on the latest orders and budget for The Blank Page was clearly not happening. And forcing herself wasn’t making it any better. Might as well give up the ghost.

 Leaning into the padded back of her desk chair, Marigold opened her eyes and let them stare blankly at the ceiling above her. And even that she couldn’t focus on. Her mind had one thing, and one thing only, that it wanted to extend any effort at all on. Tom.

As my muse has started to come back, here is a bit from the upcoming chapter of Chasing Marigolds.

“Your luck, Tom,” she started again, fighting to keep her giggling under firmer control and clearly losing, “Is utterly ridiculous and just…. You can’t make this stuff up. It’s absolute gold.”

 He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was the older of the two and, damn it all, he refused to lower his maturity to her level, no matter how badly he wanted to. And gods above did he want to. “I’m so glad my pain and suffering amuses you so.”

 Emma leaned forward, patting his unbandaged hand gently. “I live for these moments, brother mine.” Tom mumbled his dissatisfaction under his breath while Emma sat chuckling into her mug of tea.

 Tom grabbed his own mug and took a long, slow smile. The tea was cooler than he’d have liked, but palatable enough. And the drinking of it gave him time to sort his thoughts. “It could have been worse, I suppose…It could have been my face.”

 His sister buried her face in her mug as she shook with laughter. Once she’d calmed, Emma leaned forward and patted his cheek. “Oh yes, wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

 Tom shrugged away from her hand, “Enough out of you, brat.”

 “I’m the brat? Some caring older brother you are.” She ignored Tom’s scoffing. Placing her mug back onto the table, she leaned forward and gave Tom a knowing look. “So, when are you going to be seeing this bookshop owner again?”

 Blinking at her in stunned confusion, it took him a few moments to gather himself enough to answer. “And who says I am going to be seeing her again?”

 Emma cocked her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow. “Because you’re you.”

 “And just what does that mean?”

 “That you tend to show off just a bit when you fancy someone.”

 He wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug, knowing smile off her face. “Just because I helped someone out does not mean that I fancy them. You try ignoring the sound of the roof caving in and not going to help.”