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Authors: Tracy Ellen
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for me, but I wasn’t too concerned.
You can never tell what life may bring. Anticipation of the unknown is half the fun of living. The other half is doing it. This stirring of interest for our first date was worth it, regardless of what happened down the road.
I had a hop in my step as I headed for the deck to grill my brother about his new neighbor. I also wanted to make sure my cousin Candy, of the light blue Honda Civic, was eating all the donated, and probably poisoned, bakery cookies. Not stuffing her face with my yummy banana bread.
Chapter III
“Son of a Preacher Man” by Sarah Connor
Saturday, 11/17/12
6:45 AM
In theory, I have the odd weekend free from work to enjoy my life. In practice, I pop in and out of the store frequently on these days off. It can hardly be avoided living as I do above my store. Or so I tell myself.
The life of a small business owner means there’s always work to be done. I am fortunate to love what I do. I am lucky to be surrounded by an experienced, loyal staff that has become my second family. Working at the bookstore can be tons of fun.
I do have a life outside of Bel’s Books; it just doesn’t start until after store hours. I’ve developed some habits over the years that are hard to break. One of them is routinely working six or seven days a week. My family and friends know where they can find me most days from ten in the morning until eight at night.
Stella’s opinion is that I’m a control freak and a workaholic. She supported her logic when pointing out I describe working seven days a week as only a habit, and not a bad one. She’s encouraging me on the weekends to let go and let Stella. I have a feeling she’s a wee bit right. I have been giving her more responsibility. I’m making a concerted effort to live a less vampish lifestyle by actually going out and having fun during daylight hours, not only later at night. Both ideas are a work in progress.
This Saturday morning, I silently slipped out of my warm bed and from Luke’s warmer arms. It was harder than I liked to leave the bed. It was harder yet to do it quietly; my antique bed is a real springy squeaker. I did both, though, because I like my morning alone time. I have my rituals. I guard this time so zealously from friends and family, all but one don’t remember I exist before ten in the morning.
My brain wakes up around the same time every morning regardless of the amount of sleep I have. Luke told me his brain was trained to sleep whenever and wherever he got the chance.
After our first date, and to explain his sudden and frequent absences, Luke told me in the vaguest terms about his current career. He’s employed by a consulting firm based out of Chicago. The firm specializes in prevention security--whatever that is. I can only picture Liam Neeson beating up bad dudes all around Paris in the movie “Taken”. If that’s what Luke does, I have never noticed any bloody knuckles or nasty wounds when he returns, so he must be good at preventing.
I do know his work involves travel and long hours. He is gone from town for varied lengths of time. Often, he’s away for a few days, sometimes a week or more. I don’t know who or what is being prevented and secured, or if it’s a dangerous career. I do know I can’t picture Luke placidly manning a desk without going nuts.
What Luke has told me about his recent past is also very sketchy on the details. He saw right away I was skeptical with his glossed over, surface descriptions. It was probably the raised eyebrows and scoffing noises that gave me away. He bluntly suggested I trust him in general about everything, and to specifically not ask questions about his job. The job part was non-negotiable.
Oh hello, I’m female and breathing. Of course this made me want to ask a million questions, but I honored his suggestion and haven’t asked him a single one.
Generally, when a man I’ve known only a short time says the words
You can never tell what life may bring. Anticipation of the unknown is half the fun of living. The other half is doing it. This stirring of interest for our first date was worth it, regardless of what happened down the road.
I had a hop in my step as I headed for the deck to grill my brother about his new neighbor. I also wanted to make sure my cousin Candy, of the light blue Honda Civic, was eating all the donated, and probably poisoned, bakery cookies. Not stuffing her face with my yummy banana bread.
Chapter III
“Son of a Preacher Man” by Sarah Connor
Saturday, 11/17/12
6:45 AM
In theory, I have the odd weekend free from work to enjoy my life. In practice, I pop in and out of the store frequently on these days off. It can hardly be avoided living as I do above my store. Or so I tell myself.
The life of a small business owner means there’s always work to be done. I am fortunate to love what I do. I am lucky to be surrounded by an experienced, loyal staff that has become my second family. Working at the bookstore can be tons of fun.
I do have a life outside of Bel’s Books; it just doesn’t start until after store hours. I’ve developed some habits over the years that are hard to break. One of them is routinely working six or seven days a week. My family and friends know where they can find me most days from ten in the morning until eight at night.
Stella’s opinion is that I’m a control freak and a workaholic. She supported her logic when pointing out I describe working seven days a week as only a habit, and not a bad one. She’s encouraging me on the weekends to let go and let Stella. I have a feeling she’s a wee bit right. I have been giving her more responsibility. I’m making a concerted effort to live a less vampish lifestyle by actually going out and having fun during daylight hours, not only later at night. Both ideas are a work in progress.
This Saturday morning, I silently slipped out of my warm bed and from Luke’s warmer arms. It was harder than I liked to leave the bed. It was harder yet to do it quietly; my antique bed is a real springy squeaker. I did both, though, because I like my morning alone time. I have my rituals. I guard this time so zealously from friends and family, all but one don’t remember I exist before ten in the morning.
My brain wakes up around the same time every morning regardless of the amount of sleep I have. Luke told me his brain was trained to sleep whenever and wherever he got the chance.
After our first date, and to explain his sudden and frequent absences, Luke told me in the vaguest terms about his current career. He’s employed by a consulting firm based out of Chicago. The firm specializes in prevention security--whatever that is. I can only picture Liam Neeson beating up bad dudes all around Paris in the movie “Taken”. If that’s what Luke does, I have never noticed any bloody knuckles or nasty wounds when he returns, so he must be good at preventing.
I do know his work involves travel and long hours. He is gone from town for varied lengths of time. Often, he’s away for a few days, sometimes a week or more. I don’t know who or what is being prevented and secured, or if it’s a dangerous career. I do know I can’t picture Luke placidly manning a desk without going nuts.
What Luke has told me about his recent past is also very sketchy on the details. He saw right away I was skeptical with his glossed over, surface descriptions. It was probably the raised eyebrows and scoffing noises that gave me away. He bluntly suggested I trust him in general about everything, and to specifically not ask questions about his job. The job part was non-negotiable.
Oh hello, I’m female and breathing. Of course this made me want to ask a million questions, but I honored his suggestion and haven’t asked him a single one.
Generally, when a man I’ve known only a short time says the words
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