Well, off to a wacky weather start to the new year. Minus single digit degrees to fifty within forty-eight hours. Welcome to Ohio. LOL
TV shows are back this week, or at least most of them are. Have to wait until February for The Walking Dead, and April for Orphan Black.
But… Banshee returned Friday and, as usual, didn't disappoint. I honestly have no idea why the show is one of my must sees, but it totally is. And, holy crap, they jam a lot into a single hour, less than, actually. Caught Helix on Syfy, and it sufficiently creeped me out enough to keep watching. Lost Girl comes back on Monday, and I'm definitely up for some Bitten, which looks kind of awesome. Almost Human was pretty great, too.
Sleepy Hollow and Arrow return this week. I can't wait!! Looking for to The Tomorrow People, too.
Tonight's post is from Enforced Confinement, a short story giving the main characters a much needed chance to work out their issues. Have I mentioned the getting trapped in a tight space trope is one of my favorites? J
Here's the tagline:
After a break-up, Baylee and Noah get trapped in a confined space and neither are happy about the situation. But the enforced intimacy gives them a chance to meet their issues head on in a place they can't take each other for granted.
And a snippety peek…
"Son of a bitch!" Noah pushed hard against the door, cursing again when it didn't budge.
Baylee rubbed her arms. "No go?" She shivered a little, but not from the cold.
The storage area had lots of artificial light, but being underground made it a little chilly. Yet the goose bumps on her skin had nothing to do with the cool air and everything to do with being trapped with Noah.
He kicked the door, hard, then growled. "There's gotta be something I can use to open the damn thing." He strode to a metal shelving unit and dumped several boxes, rifling through each one. "Nothing. Not one damn thing, even a screwdriver." He paced back and forth, frustration oozing off him in waves.
Baylee leaned against a huge crate. "Give it up, Noah. Relax and take a load off." She narrowed her eyes. "When did you get twitchy about being closed in a small space?"
He swung around and met her gaze. "I'm not." He arched a brow. "I don't wanna spend any more time with you than necessary."
She huffed out a harsh breath. "Ouch. That hurt." She pushed away from the wood. "We spend what? Three nights apart and you're already happy I'm gone?" She snorted. "So much for absence making the heart grow fonder."
Noah sent her a bland look. "That's bullshit and you know it." He dragged a five gallon bucket off the shelf, dumped the contents, and flipped it over to sit on. "But if you're not going to talk about the big list of issues we have—and I know you won't—it's gonna be a long, agonizing wait until someone starts missing us."
Gah! She should've known he'd go right for the 'talking' thing. But he'd called it. She had absolutely zero desire to get all chatty about some of their recent drama.
Finding a small, wooden box, she plopped down. "Um, yeah, no thanks. Talking sucks." She shot him a sideways glance. "Nothing gets accomplished."
Noah inclined his head. "Ah, that's right. You're a woman of action. No need to actually communicate with words, or hell, even a note. A text is too much to ask for from you."
Baylee sighed. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"
Noah spread his arms wide. "We've got nothing but time, Bay." He folded his limbs across his chest. "Maybe you can take five minutes to explain how sending a text, or geez, maybe even leaving a note, cramps your style to the point of thinking it's just dandy to leave me hanging."
Baylee rolled her eyes. "I didn't say it cramped my style. I said we're not married and I shouldn't have to check in with you all the time."
Noah snot up. "It's not all the time, Bay. We, you and I, had plans. It's not too much to expect a heads up when they change." He blew out a frustrated breath. "At least it shouldn't be."
Baylee glanced away. He had a right to be pissed. He did. But good Christ, they weren't joined at the hip. And she'd sent word—okay, two hours after the fact, but she'd made an effort. If you hadn't left your stupid phone at work, you could've sent a text. She tuned out the stab of conscience. If he didn't ride her ass all the time about always forgetting her cell, she might have apologized.
But no. He'd gone off on a tangent and she'd walked out the door.
And look where that landed them.
Here. In a storage room under a mansion. At an impasse.
Happy fun times.
Honestly, I love writing characters working through conflict… especially when it's of their own creation. :D
That's it for this week. Happy reading!