WORD OF THE DAY
She sat in the living room as masculine as he, surrounded by wood, wool, and leather in dark colors.
A tall, toned woman who looked like she did Pilates for a living stood in the hall in tight black leather pants and a tight pink T-shirt that drew attention to her large breasts.
She relaxed in the luxury of leather seat covers and a smooth ride, content simply to watch him drive.
As the teams came to a halt, the rasp of leather against sandy wheels assured her that the other wagons were following suit.
After a few more turns of the lathe he removed his foot from the pedal, wiped his chisel, dropped it into a leather pouch attached to the lathe, and, approaching the table, summoned his daughter.
He sat on a sofa while she settled into a leather rocker where she'd evidently been sitting, as there was a nearly empty pint of vodka on the table next to her.
A blacksmith in Gravette was making the wheels, but the rest of the buggy was complete, right down to the leather seats.
The feeling of the angel's soft, cold hand in his own reminded Rhyn of the first thing he'd touched in Hell that hadn't been stone. Gabriel had brought him a book with a worn, leather-like cover, and he'd lost himself dwelling on the sensation of buttery leather under his fingertips after the hazy nightmare that had been his existence in Hell.
Yes, it was a woman's shape, her body clad in dark breeches and boots, her sleeveless tunic held in place beneath a leather belt.