“Sir Guy, I feel ancient. And tired of the cold and damp . . .” Ladywriter sighed, then winced as she gingerly rotated her sore right shoulder and flexed her stiff right thumb. After falling two nights in a row, LW was, as her daddy used to say, “stove up.” Grace was definitely not her middle name, especially not during this Endless Winter.
“But you have your lovely red and black-striped fingerless gloves given to you by your cousin,” said Guy. Tilting his dark head, he smiled, his kohl-rimmed azure eyes gleaming. “And–you have–ME.”
Waggling her fingers, LW nodded and returned his smile. “I appreciate so the kindness of others–and the sweet hotness of you, Dearest Dark Knight.”
A flash of white teeth and a deep, dark, delicious chuckle. “Well–naturally.”
Electric blankets, hot choccie, cuddly cats—and Sir Guy. Great winter warmers! Happy Guyday Friday!