Tuesday Tales: From the Word SALT

Welcome to June and this week’s Tuesday Tales, the weekly blog post where a small group of authors share their Work in progress with you, the readers. Today’s word prompt is SALT. I’m continuing with my romantic comedy, Make Mine a Manhattan.

Since I work better with inspiration, here’s the cover.

This was the icing on my sucks-to-be-me day! Wouldn’t the mayor be happy knowing he’d avoided setting up his big buyer with the Queen of Klutz and Bad Luck?

“Oh my God,” Mom cried. “What have you done? I swear when God was handing out clumsiness, you asked for a double dose. Don’t you ever watch where you’re going?”

Where I’m going? Injured party here!

Speechless, I gaped at the huge, wet spot spreading across the man’s tan shirt and khaki pants, scarcely noticing the fact that my white cotton t-shirt was as wet. Tilting my head up, I stared at the face hidden behind his mask, mirrored sunglasses, and the brim of his Panama hat. When had I ever seen a man with such broad shoulders? To rub a little salt into the wound of my humiliation, despite my mask, the aroma of his aftershave tickled my nose, and I sneezed.

Heat filled my cheeks. No doubt the top half of my face was as red as a ripe tomato, and considering I had carrot-colored hair, currently pulled up into a messy bun on the top of my head, it wouldn’t be a good look on me. I peered at the mess I’d made, suddenly aware of the fact that my tightened nipples were poking out of my wet shirt.

Mortification mixed with indignation, and my brain clicked into gear. I set the empty cup on the table beside me and tried to cover my wet chest with my arms.

The stranger just stood there, looking down on me.

Not known for my patience and diplomacy, I lashed out at him in a tone worthy of Katerina in The Taming of the Shrew.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were there. Of course, if you hadn’t been standing right on my ass, we might’ve avoided the collision. Or don’t you know what six feet away means?”

He hissed in a sharp breath but didn’t speak, no doubt because he knew I was right.

Mom raced around the counter with a damp cloth and a pile of napkins.

“Don’t just stand there, do something.”

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the damp cloth from her and started dabbing at the coffee on my t-shirt.

“Not you, for heaven’s sake,” Mom barked.

So much for motherly love and compassion!

Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales