Rainy Day Blogfest

can you hear it?

drip

drip.

drip.

it's the Rainy Day Blogfest, hosted by the lovely Christine Hardy (writing friend of many years), over at her blog The Writer's Hole.

here's my entry from First Comes Love - an inspirational chick lit book that's on hold. technically, i'm supposed to be sharing a scene that has rain in it. i admit there's not much rain, but it's the only rainy scene i have in any of my stories. the story is written in Andee's point of view.

(for another scene from this novel, read my "It's a Fight -or a Bicker" post. )

here's the scene set-up: Andee and Nate have known each other for a few weeks. He’s a photographer and he’s offered to teach her how to get a start in photography. She’s not sure what she thinks of him because of his earring, long hair, and tattoos, but she wants to learn photography, so she’s put aside her stuff and is on a “date” with him near the Superstition Mountains outside of Phoenix. It’s just started raining.




Just then I heard a rumble of thunder. I jumped and banged my knee on the table. The noise didn’t make Nate flinch at all. He kept taking pictures and whistling, even when it started to sprinkle. How could he be so oblivious to what was going on? It finally took a sudden downpour to get his attention.

Nate tucked the camera and tripod under his arm and quickly made his way to where I was sitting. He shook the rain out of his hair and set the camera on the table. Then, as if I weren’t even there, he lifted his shirt over his head. I let out an involuntary shriek.

Why had he gone and done that? Didn’t he know that seeing his very masculine … whatever…was too much information?

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You…” Before I could scold him for his lack of propriety, I got a better look at the tattoo. That’s when I shrieked on purpose.

“What is it with the shrieking?”

“You have a naked woman on your arm!”

He lowered one sly eyebrow. “She’s covered.”

“With a boa constrictor – and just barely.”

“What’s the big deal?”

“It’s a little…shocking.”

He ran his hand over the woman, like they were friends or something. I was wondering if he’d named her. “And you’re thinking a Christian shouldn’t have…this on his arm.”

I hissed through my teeth. “Never mind.”

“C’mon. What’s wrong?”

“I never should have brought it up. What you do with your body is your business.”

I turned around to look at the rain dripping off of the ramada’s roof. Then I heard Nate sit behind me.

“I admit I’m prejudiced,” I said. “One of my goofy hang-ups.”

“I hardly notice it anymore.”

I whipped myself around to glare at him. “Notice what? My goofy hang-ups?”

He grinned. “No, I hardly notice the tattoo anymore. I forget that it’s there.”

“Why did you get it in the first place?”

“My cousin and I had a bet going about who could get the most tattoos in six months.”

“Isn’t that kind of juvenile?”

He quirked his mouth into an odd smile. “Of course it was. We were right out of high school.”

“Well – who won?”

“What?”

“Who won the bet?”

“Calvin did. He has them on both arms.”

“What about the earring?”

He fingered the small gold hoop in his earlobe. “I got this pierced after I became a Christian.”

I was going to ask why, but I didn’t want to know.

“And the hair?” I asked.

He let his hair down so it could dry. It came down to his shoulders. He was the only guy I’d met with long hair. Despite my hang-ups, I was tempted to reach across the table and see what it felt like. I folded my hands in my lap to keep them out of trouble.

“It’s for one of my other jobs.” I knew this was going to be good. “Every spring, I’m part of the security team for the Renaissance Fair.”

“And you dress up?”

“Usually I’m a pirate.”

“So you’re a Jack Sparrow wannabe?”

He pulled his shirt back over his head. Part of me (probably the untapped vixen part) was sorry to see him covered up.

I was hopeless.