The Eyes Of A Fetch (Excerpt 461) The Reason
“Do you ever sleep?” Lyla asks as she looks into Crispin’s eyes. He tips his head as if his answer is questionable and Lyla runs her hand along the back of his neck as she looks at him thoughtfully.
“Let’s just say my mind is wonderfully consumed and that keeps me up at times.” He says in a vague manner as he continues to hold her.
“That’s a very cryptic reply.” Lyla laughs. “So what does it mean?” Crispin looks at her and grins. “What are you hiding?” She teases.
“You are the reason I don’t sleep.” He replies has he holds her close. “Let’s just say, you are a beacon to my soul.” He kisses her as he draws her into a tighter embrace. “I prepared breakfast, but it’s more like a late lunch.” He laughs.
Taking her by the hand, they walk down the short hall, through the main room, and out through the back door of the kitchen. Stepping across three large square stones, they immediately enter a glass structure. It is a greenhouse of sorts with various pots and planters full of flowers and vegetables sitting in neat rows and sections. Some varieties are hanging in large baskets, some spilling out of tall urns, and the gravel walkway is wet and shiny.
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