Gliding
THAT JULY AFTERNOON would have a bearing on his future. Reginald and Lane had been courting for three months. It was time for him to propose.
The pretty woman, who made his face flush and his heart flutter, toed onto the porch where he sat. She turned her face toward his and let her hip slide a bit closer.
Those minute movements made it seem like the stationary swing, upon which the pair perched, had glided into the room. Truth be told, they had not been promoted to the foyer, but remained on the veranda.
In the Jones’ domain, the house interior was reserved for family. Reginald hoped that the diamond ring in his pocket would elevate him to that exclusive club.
He sneezed.
Lane sneezed in answer.
He reached for her chin.
She leaned back, away from his hand.
He scooted towa
