As a little Valentine treat, I’m posting an excerpt from Cropped to Death that features Steve Davis, one of the men vying for Faith’s attention. (Ted had his turn yesterday and is kind of gloating today…his excerpt has a higher word count).
From Cropped to Death, A Faith Hunter Scrap This Mystery
Steve Davis headed toward me carrying a cardboard cup. A tool belt hung around his waist, the metal gizmos clanging with each step he took. “Faith, I’ve been waiting for you.”
The man looked lethal in faded dark blue jeans and a t-shirt. I usually saw him in suits and khakis. Even on the weekends his normal attire was business causal. Not like today…bad boy biker. His shaved head added to the edgy look. I swallowed my sigh and took my gaze from the man and placed it on the cup of coffee. Also sigh-worthy.
Marilyn tugged the strap of my tote off my shoulder. “I’ll start setting up while you flirt with Steve.” She continued into the building.
I accepted the coffee from Steve. “I’m not flirting with you. Just being polite since you waited for me.”
His expression remained neutral though a twinkle glittered in his deep brown eyes. “I volunteered to help your grandmothers today. They asked me to walk you to your booth. Here I am.”
“I can find my way.” I took a sip of the coffee and nearly burned my tongue.
He steered me into the building. “I have a hard time denying a request from Hope and Cheryl. They worry about you.”
Poor, unknowing man. Pairing Steve and me together motivated my grandmothers, not worry. Their matchmaking plan had topped every to-do, resolution and prayer list since I moved home fourteen months ago. They turned on the fragile, old women charm whenever Steve and I entered the same orbit. A wasted effort but I treasured the care and love motivating their antics.
I scanned the large open area and tried locating the Scrap This booth. The art gallery arena was spectacular. Bright, bold signs directed attendees to different exhibits and fabulous art displays. Fans could easily spot their favorite artists and make their way to the booth. “This is great. The set up makes it very easy to move around the space.”
“Your grandmothers did a good job organizing the traffic flow.” Steve draped his arm around my shoulders.
My heart fluttered and I ordered the treacherous organ to stop. What woman wouldn’t be thrilled at the attention? But I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I was unavailable. My heart still continued at the more rapid pace. A heart was a fickle thing.
The Self-Rescue Princess 