Tuesday Tales: From the Word DIRT

Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales the blog where a select group of authors share their works in progress with you. This week our word is DIRT and the scenes are limited to 400 words.

I’m continuing with my romance suspense, Finding Melinda. Good news, folks. We have a cover.

“This is amazing.” Marc leaned against the fence that kept the visitors safely away from the rushing waters.

Melinda nodded. “Essentially, this marks the spot where the Rideau River and the Rideau Canal diverge. The Hog’s Back was created when they built the canal, back in the early nineteenth century. Back then, there were rapids in this area that were about two thousand feet long with a six-foot drop. They were actually navigable by canoe, but Colonel By, the canal’s architect, needed to damn the river to divert water into the canal. You can imagine how much dirt and stone he needed to move to accomplish that. The original rapids are actually pretty much under the dam, and when he diverted the water, the amount left for the river created this.”

He chuckled. “Beautiful and smart.”

She laughed. “You said that last night.”

His gaze found hers. “I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

She swallowed, uncomfortable with the smoldering admiration in his eyes.

“You don’t have to flatter me. You’re my twin brother’s best friend. That makes you mine, too.”

Marc turned and pulled her into his arms. “I’m kind of hoping I can be more to you than I am to him.” He bent his head and kissed her, but this kiss wasn’t the innocent one he’d given her last night. She gasped, and he took advantage of her mouth’s slight opening to slip his tongue into it, filling her with sensations unlike any she’d felt before. She could stay like this for the rest of her life.

“Ouch.” She pulled away and jerked around, the sizeable stone that had struck her in the back just below her neck now lying at her feet.

“My God, are you okay?” Marc reached for her once more, turning her away from him. “At least, you aren’t bleeding.”

The sound of children giggling drifted over to them.

“Peter, that’s enough. Now, get up here,” the woman called.

No doubt the boy had been tossing stones into the water, and one had gone amiss.

Mark released her and bent down to pick up the rock about the size of a baseball. “I have half a mind to go after Peter and give him a damn good lecture on the danger of throwing rocks.”

“Don’t! I’m fine. I’ll probably have another bruise,” she joked, “but I’m resilient. Can I see that?”

That’s it. Stay safe, and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.