The Eyes Of A Fetch (Excerpt 289) Nervous

The vase of flowers drops from Lyla’s hand, shattering on the wooden floor with a loud popping sound. A gunshot would have not been any louder as pieces of porcelain scatter out in every direction and the beautifully arranged flowers land at Crispin’s feet. Lyla looks down at the dreadful mess of water and small sections of porcelain, but has no words to speak. Crispin’s appearance on her doorstep takes her completely off guard and has her practically in a state of shock. Standing within inches of each other and after an uncomfortable pause, Crispin speaks.

“We should get that water up before it damages the floor.” He kneels down in front of her. She watches him as his tall broad stature gently gathers the damaged pieces and the now flattened clump of flowers.  “Um, yes, right.” Stumbling over her words, Lyla stands still, continuing to watch Crispin at her feet. He looks up at her and grins slightly as he makes quick eye contact.

“I believe we may need a towel.” He says as he stands up. His face is only a couple of inches away from hers. He wants so much to hold her, to kiss her, and for her to kiss him back. He is staring at her hoping she will look him in the eye once again. Lyla only glances at his eyes once then focuses on the collar of his shirt. He can tell she is incredibly nervous but wonders if this is her reason for looking away, or does she remember what power he holds. He can smell the sweet shampoo scent of her hair.

“Yes, I’ll. . . I’ll go get a towel.” She says as she slowly backs up. “Excuse me a moment.”

Excerpt 289

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