idea.
She pulled a black velvet sheet out of her backpack and
smoothed it over the surface of her rented table, carefully plucking any stray
bits of fuzz from its dark surface. A few stalls down, a woman in a long
tie-dye dress sold incense and the sweet scent carried on the breeze. The air
began to warm as the sun rose in the sky and Shan turned her face to it,
letting the warmth sooth her. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to her
work. Good weather meant good crowds and she set out extra cards in the pretty
silver business card holder that she’d made years ago. After draining the last
of her coffee, Shan dug through her backpack and began to take out the
carefully labeled bags containing her work.
Having majored in art history in college and apprenticed
with her father, her creations were delicate yet bold with heavy Celtic
influences. One of her favorite pieces at the moment was a line of expensive
gold mood rings commissioned by a local storeowner. She liked the idea of the
rich gold settings surrounding something as frivolous as a stone that was
supposed to read your emotions. She carefully put out her sample pieces, making
small adjustments in the layout here and there so her work would capture the
sunlight to its best advantage. These display models were made of cheap metal
with a thin overlay of silver and gold along with fake stones. If someone with
sticky fingers stole them, it wouldn't be too big of a loss.
The sun quickly warmed the beige sandstone blocks of her
section of the bazaar, and she unzipped her jacket. A couple booths down, a
Temple Guard moved through the growing crowd, checking permits and displays.
The guard’s back was turned to her, but she sucked in a breath through her
teeth. Whoever he was, he had the broadest shoulders she had ever seen tapering
down to a rock-solid butt and a pair of well-muscled legs that made her
hormones wake up and take note.
Not wanting to start out on a bad foot, she quickly moved
behind her display and nervously put out the folded metal sign of her store,
The Silver Rose. Digging through her backpack, she took out three roses made of
silver polished until they gleamed like liquid metal and placed them beneath
the sign. Each piece had taken hours of intricate work to construct the folds
and curves of the petals. The silver rose was her master project to pass her
journeyman's test for smithing, and she was proud of the result.
The sound of men's conversation came from the booth next to
hers, and she dug through her bag for her permit. A little twinge of nerves
moved through her body as she emptied the entire bag onto the ground and
frantically looked for the little piece of pink paper. The nerves became full
out panic as she searched for her permit, her fumbling fingers managing to
spill a bag full of pendants into her backpack.
“Shit, fuck shit,” she muttered to herself as the thin
chains of the pendants got tangled up with her car keys.
“Good morning,” a deep voice drawled from over her shoulder.
Warm and rich, his voice was darker than the coffee she’d just drunk, and
washed over her body in a caress. A tingle raced from the top of her head all
the way down to her toes, leaving her body buzzing.
Glancing up from her crouch, she bit back a gasp at the
sight of the Temple Guard that had been checking permits standing on the other
side of her table. Up close, he was even bigger than she’d imagined. Broad
chest, impossibly wide shoulders, and muscled forearms chorded with veins. His
flawless skin was a lovely, deep tan and she had to drag her eyes away from his
body and up to his face. He had a nice, square jaw with solid cheek-bones and a
hawkish nose that gave him an imposing look. Then their gaze met and she found
herself drowning in the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen on a man or woman. His
eyes were a lovely blue-green framed with lashes so thick and long, they almost
looked fake. Her heart skipped a beat then pounded as she stared at
She pulled a black velvet sheet out of her backpack and
smoothed it over the surface of her rented table, carefully plucking any stray
bits of fuzz from its dark surface. A few stalls down, a woman in a long
tie-dye dress sold incense and the sweet scent carried on the breeze. The air
began to warm as the sun rose in the sky and Shan turned her face to it,
letting the warmth sooth her. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to her
work. Good weather meant good crowds and she set out extra cards in the pretty
silver business card holder that she’d made years ago. After draining the last
of her coffee, Shan dug through her backpack and began to take out the
carefully labeled bags containing her work.
Having majored in art history in college and apprenticed
with her father, her creations were delicate yet bold with heavy Celtic
influences. One of her favorite pieces at the moment was a line of expensive
gold mood rings commissioned by a local storeowner. She liked the idea of the
rich gold settings surrounding something as frivolous as a stone that was
supposed to read your emotions. She carefully put out her sample pieces, making
small adjustments in the layout here and there so her work would capture the
sunlight to its best advantage. These display models were made of cheap metal
with a thin overlay of silver and gold along with fake stones. If someone with
sticky fingers stole them, it wouldn't be too big of a loss.
The sun quickly warmed the beige sandstone blocks of her
section of the bazaar, and she unzipped her jacket. A couple booths down, a
Temple Guard moved through the growing crowd, checking permits and displays.
The guard’s back was turned to her, but she sucked in a breath through her
teeth. Whoever he was, he had the broadest shoulders she had ever seen tapering
down to a rock-solid butt and a pair of well-muscled legs that made her
hormones wake up and take note.
Not wanting to start out on a bad foot, she quickly moved
behind her display and nervously put out the folded metal sign of her store,
The Silver Rose. Digging through her backpack, she took out three roses made of
silver polished until they gleamed like liquid metal and placed them beneath
the sign. Each piece had taken hours of intricate work to construct the folds
and curves of the petals. The silver rose was her master project to pass her
journeyman's test for smithing, and she was proud of the result.
The sound of men's conversation came from the booth next to
hers, and she dug through her bag for her permit. A little twinge of nerves
moved through her body as she emptied the entire bag onto the ground and
frantically looked for the little piece of pink paper. The nerves became full
out panic as she searched for her permit, her fumbling fingers managing to
spill a bag full of pendants into her backpack.
“Shit, fuck shit,” she muttered to herself as the thin
chains of the pendants got tangled up with her car keys.
“Good morning,” a deep voice drawled from over her shoulder.
Warm and rich, his voice was darker than the coffee she’d just drunk, and
washed over her body in a caress. A tingle raced from the top of her head all
the way down to her toes, leaving her body buzzing.
Glancing up from her crouch, she bit back a gasp at the
sight of the Temple Guard that had been checking permits standing on the other
side of her table. Up close, he was even bigger than she’d imagined. Broad
chest, impossibly wide shoulders, and muscled forearms chorded with veins. His
flawless skin was a lovely, deep tan and she had to drag her eyes away from his
body and up to his face. He had a nice, square jaw with solid cheek-bones and a
hawkish nose that gave him an imposing look. Then their gaze met and she found
herself drowning in the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen on a man or woman. His
eyes were a lovely blue-green framed with lashes so thick and long, they almost
looked fake. Her heart skipped a beat then pounded as she stared at
Similar Books
