Only True in Fairy Tales by Christine Stovell

Author:Christine Stovell [Stovell, Christine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Mythology & Folk Tales, Fairy Tales, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy
Publisher: Choc Lit
Published: 2018-10-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The next morning, Eloise was roused by a persistent blast of gnawed bone and doggie chew wafting across her pillow. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she came to in a hurry when she opened her eyes and found Gracie kneeling over her, peering into her face and uttering little huffs of distress.

‘Gracie?’ she began, wondering why the greyhound was so keen to wake her up in what still felt like the middle of the night. Except it wasn’t moonlight filtering through the gap in the curtains, but a clear, watery sunshine. Glancing at her bedside clock, she saw that after the emotional rollercoaster of the previous day, she had overslept. Suddenly the horror of blurting everything out to Ross came back to her and she flopped back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling in mortification.

A huge, emotional splurge might have given her some temporary relief after three years of withholding her true feelings about Seb, even from her own family, but would Ross ever be able to look her in the eye again? Was that really the way to thank him for rescuing Gracie from Brett Dorling-Jones? No wonder he’d behaved as if she was as overstrung as her nervous dog.

She felt like retreating back under the duvet as she thought about the awkward moment in her lobby as he’d been about to leave. Her eyes closed as she recalled leaning back against the wall so he could get past. Instead though, he paused in front of her and she found herself looking up to him, meeting his gaze. After what felt like an eternity, he reached out and gently cupped her head. The breath she’d been holding shuddered through her as his fingers trailed through her hair and he pulled her towards him. She buried her groan in his chest, overwhelmed by how good it felt to be held again, to draw strength from him, the warmth of his strong body, his clean masculine smell … and then he’d dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her head and told her to get some rest, treating her with all the care and respect anyone would accord a crazy lady who’d been living with her dog far too long.

Oh lord, poor Gracie! While she was lying there eating her heart out about scaring her neighbour away, Gracie must, once again, be bursting to be let out. She threw back the cover becoming aware, at the same time, of a commotion under her window as someone beat a tattoo on her front door. As she sat there trying to make sense of the noises, Gracie tried to help by offering her a choice of footwear.

Staggering downstairs in an unconventional slipper and flip-flop combo, Eloise reflected that being single and free to wear whatever she liked to bed had its advantages. Instead of slinky, slithery nighties which slipped off her shoulders or got tangled up in her legs, she could slob around in ancient T-shirts and granny bed-socks if she wanted.

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