Handbag Ho, I am Not
I have to admit, I’m more of a shoe slut than a handbag ho. However, now that my children no longer require me to carry around snacks, wipes, and diapers, I’ve been able to invest in some Mommy Love. I only have one awesome handbag…my Coach purse. It’s pretty, simple and holds everything I need. Inside my lovely purse I have a snakeskin Coach wallet, four different flavored tubes of Chapstick, a bottle of Advil and a not-so-secret stash of chocolate and mints, with just enough room for my Kindle. Because a girl must always be prepared.
It wasn’t until he got out of his truck that he noticed her in the walkway. Bundled in bulky gray snow gear and tossing snow over her shoulder faster than any snow blower could spit the stuff, she looked more like a linebacker making a beeline for the quarterback than a dainty woman who normally struts around in do-me shoes.
“Damn, woman, you’ll throw your back out shoveling like that. Let me.” He reached around her and grabbed for the shovel but got knocked back by the force of her elbow to his chest and a swift kick to his knee. The pain shot through his leg and instantly crippled him, but not before her left knee came in full contact with his thigh. Grabbing her, he fell to the ground, bringing her on top of his chest.
“Get your filthy hands—OhMyGod! McKay! I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?” She pulled the buds to her iPod out of her ears and scowled.
He lay on his back looking up into the dark silhouette of an angel. Or possibly devil, his eyes blurred from the sudden impact so he couldn’t quite tell, but she was beautiful. Pink cheeked, concerned and sitting right on top of his crotch.
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