While You Were Writing: Watkin's Pond, Book 2 by Virginia Nelson Page B

there in peace for long. “Firstly, I’m giving you a minute to get your temper under rein since you’ve obviously lost it.”
    “Hmm…” He grumbled the sound and shifted, his head moving against the crown of hers. “Is this part of your usual method?”
    She didn’t answer, instead breathing in for a count of three. When she exhaled she closed her eyes. “You didn’t ask me why I left or where I went.”
    The crickets sang and the rustle of creatures in the night were her only answer for so long she almost sat up to see if he’d fallen asleep. Finally, he shifted again before speaking. “I assumed I knew why you left. I got drunk and basically attacked you.”
    She snorted. “Hardly. Honey, if that was an attack, you’re all growl and no bite.”
    He made a noise similar to a growl and moved again. He couldn’t seem to lie still, which amused her to no end.
    She waited.
    After a few minutes of more silence, he spoke again. The intimacy of his voice in the darkness, his warmth against the top of her head made her shiver. “So where did you go?”
    “I went searching for answers.” Night song erupted around them again, hardly disturbed by her soft answer.
    “About me? You were researching me?”
    Again, the low rumble of his voice seemed a physical thing that reached out of the inky blackness to stroke across her nerves and she shivered. This time when he moved, he sat up to loom over her. She blinked up at him. “Of course. I told you, I help people. You weren’t giving me answers. I went looking for them.” She couldn’t keep from shivering again.
    “You’re cold.”
    She wasn’t. She also wasn’t about to admit the sound of his voice affected her, so she shrugged, inhaling deeply the scent of grass and cool air. “I’m fine.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. This exercise is obviously better practiced in warmer climes or perhaps not by cover of night. Come here.”
    Rolling to her side, she peered at him over her shoulder. “Thought I wasn’t supposed to touch you?” Not that you gave Candice any such rule…
    “Again, I won’t point out the ignorance of that comment considering I simply was offering to share warmth.” His defensive answer left her smiling, but he couldn’t see that since she still couldn’t see his face. “If you care to continue this conversation, I’m going to have to insist we either relocate to a warmer place or you cooperate with my quite generous offer.”
    Crawling to him, she tried to tamp down her imagination which offered a plethora of ways he could warm her up. “I researched your mother.”
    He stopped any further words by practically scooping her out of the grass and dropping her unceremoniously into his lap. He’d positioned her back to his front and she pulled up her knees so he basically hugged his arms across her shoulders and around her legs. Immediately washed in both his warmth and scent, she shivered again. He tucked her closer, his voice close to her ear. “I’m assuming the idea of this exercise is that I will reveal more to a disembodied voice in the dark than I would to a face, full of expectations, staring at me? The psychology of it is logical.”
    “You approve?” She snickered.
    Ducking his head to rest it on her shoulder, he cut off her mirth with his presence and she forced herself to stay still in his embrace. “I grew up here.” The confession startled her and she jerked. He answered the motion with a small squeeze. “I thought you wanted late night confessions?”
    “Go on.” His hand was beneath hers and she stroked her fingertips along the outside of it. “You grew up here.”
    “I wasn’t the healthiest of kids, preferring the solace of books to the company of others. My mom raised me, single parent, and she encouraged my dreams of someday becoming the next Stephen King.” His soft snort near her ear shifted her hair and tickled, but she managed not to move. “I’m really not sure what she thought about my choice to