Backup Plan
My heart flutters in my chest, and I want so fucking badly to grab her, pin her body between mine and the car, and kiss her breathless.
“Did you get a lot of writing done?”
“Enough to make me feel productive,” she replies. “I saw that it’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow. I’ll hole up on the screened-in porch and plan to knock out a ton of words.”
“Do you make an outline?” I open the car door for her and go around.
“Not really,” she tells me as she pulls the seatbelt over her body. “My editor likes to review it, so I give her a super rough one. It’s a waste of time for me to make anything more than a rough outline. I change things too much.”
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