Today’s topic is description. And the story that I think has the most description, because it so vividly in my head, is I Need You for Christmas…
I Need You for Christmas
Copyright © 2012 Leah Braemel
Instead of leading her back to his loft as she’d expected, he headed to the far end and slid aside a panel she hadn’t noticed before. She followed him up the rough wood staircase, the wood creaking with each step. Shadows shifted and moved in the light of the single bare bulb swinging on a wire from the rafters high above. The walls of the stairwell ended at the floor above, opening into what must have once been a storage area when this had been used as the sawmill barn.
“Top Pick Review – Leah Braemel has the talent to bring her characters alive and her settings real… a big story that felt at least twice as long as it is.” ~Terri, Night Owl Romance
An easel commanded the best view over the pond, a dozen or more drawings lay scattered on the floor by its feet. A rounded plaster cast leaned against one wall—the cast Amy had said they’d had done of her belly that Ryan had volunteered to paint. Even though the design wasn’t finished, tears sprung to Meg’s eyes at the beauty of the twin babies staring back at her, their eyes large and filled with wonder.
If she’d thought his workshop below was his inner sanctum, she’d been wrong.
Feeling like an intruder, she explored the room, examined the sketches, some done in pencil or ink, others in pastel. Almost all of them were of her. Usually of her asleep. In his bed or hers up north. “Are these done from memory or do you sketch them while I’m sleeping?”
“A bit of both.” He studied the pencil sketch closest to him, a profile. “I like looking at them on those nights you’re not beside me.” He stroked a finger down the cheek of the drawing as tenderly as if he’d been touching the real her. “You’re so relaxed, blissful. I keep trying to capture you, but I haven’t got it right yet.”
Oh God. Her chest ached not just from the love in his eyes, but the frustration in his voice.
He walked back to the stairwell and turned off the light, leaving the moonlight as their only illumination.
“I need you, Meg.”
“…The ultimate feel good Christmas story…” ~ Sarah, Feeling Fictional
He walked toward her, as proud and untamed as the wolf she’d seen casually trot across the road on the way back from Orillia. She’d slowed, fascinated when it stopped at the side and turned its head to watch her pass. Ryan had that same sense of invincibility, the same sense of belonging to his environment. He’d taken the mill and made it thrive, taken this sawmill barn and made it his too. How could she have ever considered asking him to move away from his home?
If you like “hearing” your books, Audible has the entire Red Hot Holiday anthology as an audio book.
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