Summer reading …

Getting ready to go down the road, and it’s amazing that down there is actually way cooler than here at the moment (#heatwave). Anyway, my lovelies, here’s a ‘Thursday Sample‘ from my #Newrelease … for anyone who hasn’t checked it out yet, and likes a little Caribbean flava, this is one for the summer #beachbum kinda #chilling … #justlove

Rhythm to Love:

“Paul had this official voice. It was a soft wielding of authority which caste a spell on the receiver.

The young man ducked his head to look over at me seated in the passenger seat on the other side. “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Walker, Ma’am. Umm, I’ll swing the gates. You can drive up to the house, and I’ll call Miss Mitchell directly.”

Miss Mitchell had welcomed Kimberly and I last night. She was this super-friendly, ultra-professional bubbly type. “Thank you,” I said, meaning every word. I just wanted to get into that house. Take a long shower, change, and drink some ice water. Anything to help cool down.

As the large white gates swung open, Paul eased the car forward, “Which number?” he asked, his baritone sunken, as in ‘house’ number. He sounded different, more intimate. Kind of husky and moody, all previous sign of officialdom temporarily dropped. He was back to doing ‘us’.

“Twelve,” I croaked. The vibes in this SUV were thick enough to cut with a knife. I had to get out of here. This entire day felt too incredible for words. I needed to get back center, be in the comfort of my own space, where, yes, I had control. I could settle and start to rectify the damage of my stolen purse, starting with getting my hands on a new local phone. Bottom line, I needed time to breathe. Being with Paul felt dangerous to my emotional health, I mean, I couldn’t control a damn thing it seemed. It didn’t matter where I stood, the dude just reached into ‘that’ soul he knew so well, ‘intimately’, and ‘took’.

The house wasn’t set far back. It was a short hop.

The Villa was a four bedroom home with pool and every amenity. The best thing to me about the house was, it had a beautiful view of the sea looking out from a wide terrace. I needed that, the open air. Space to think was important to me. Strategy and my work always happened at a desk, but when I was unwinding I liked to be as far a way from my desk as possible.

I was a star gazer at heart, since childhood. I liked my late night rambles looking up at the moon or Venus talking deep shit I couldn’t talk with ‘nobody else ’bout’. I loved that kind of meditative alone time, especially after gigs. Just to come back down, drink a whiskey and chill, by myself, maybe catch a shooting star if I was lucky and the sky was clear. It was perfect for getting any post-concert hype to settle.

Pulling-up outside, Paul cut the engine. We had to wait on Miss Mitchell anyway. And, it felt like he was waiting on me to make the first move.

I didn’t know what to say, let alone do. I was running from our situation. He knew that. Running back to my comfort zone, ‘and not undeservedly so’, because so much ‘rasclot’ had happened for one day. I didn’t want to invite him in, because that episode on the beach felt like transgression enough. The man was walking, breathing temptation. I knew I didn’t trust myself with him alone in there. God knows what could end up happening.

Besides, there was Vince to think about, even if he hadn’t properly even crossed my mind since Paul came through the door of the art shop. It wasn’t right. The press could get hold of this and flip it just that fast. Vince was an upright successful brother. I couldn’t screw around behind his back. Nor did I want to. Never, not after what Ade had done to me. A kiss, I could just about explain, getting caught up in a moment kinda ting. That was bad enough. Any more than that felt too explosive.

Still, ‘you see’, Vince and I hadn’t ‘named’ exactly what we were in. We were definitely in ‘something … together’, and that ‘something’ felt strong. But was it strong enough?

Mama, ‘bless her soul’, was right.

Troubles really did come in threes.”

Rhythm to Love © 2019 L. S. Bergman

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