Today I am welcoming a fellow Rose from The Wild Rose Press, K.K. Weil. She’s sharing an artistic, romantic, and slightly funny scene from her newest release, SHATTERPROOF.
Author: K.K. Weil
Genre: NA Contemporary Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Released: October 28, 2015
Griffin’s latest creation sits on the table in his empty warehouse. A sculpture of a tall, exquisite woman. Before I think about what I’m doing, I reach out for it. I can’t help myself. I caress her chiffon dress, then her hair. The textures in it are wavy and unruly, almost to a sinful degree. An invisible breeze fans it around her. I breathe in through my nose to experience the breeze. She smells like Griffin. That scent on him the day I ran into him at the hospital wasn’t paint, after all.
It was clay.
The woman’s arm is raised and her fingers are running through her hair, pushing it off her face. I think I’m being gentle when I trace my hand over her arm, but my touch is obviously not as soft as I think.
“No!” I wail when the statue’s hand separates from her wrist and her arm is limp in my hand. I start to panic. I can’t even run away, because I know if I let go of this arm, the entire thing will fall off. Holy crap. Why would I touch his work? Beads of sweat form on my forehead. I’m stuck. I can’t move a muscle for fear of destroying this beautiful piece even more. What the hell am I going to do?
Maybe if it let it go and run out of here, Griffin will think it fell off by itself. He never has to know I touched it.
“That wouldn’t be very nice.” Griffin’s grumbly voice startles me from behind and I jerk, inadvertently removing the arm a little from the shoulder.
“Damn it!” The arm sags in my hand but I don’t lower it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have touched it. I don’t know why I did.”
Griffin chuckles from somewhere deep in his stomach. My own stomach clenches with nerves.
“It’s okay.” He steps closer.
“Wait,” I say. “What wouldn’t be nice?”
“Making me think it fell off by itself. That I did shitty, unstable work.”
I gulp. I’m glad my back is still to him, so he can’t see my heart pounding through my shirt. “I said that out loud?” I scrunch my face in embarrassment.
“Yep.” He’s amused. I am not.
“I’m really sorry,” I repeat again.
“I told you, it’s okay.” He moves within an inch of my back and reaches his arms around me. Before I realize what he’s doing, his hand is over mine, guiding it. Together, we methodically rebuild the arm. First at the shoulder, where it is still somewhat attached, then at the wrist.
Griffin’s chest is against my back and every slow breath he takes accelerates my own. He’s quite a bit taller than me and his chin is by my temple as he leans over my shoulder to fix what I broke. Can he feel the moisture on my forehead through his stubble?
“It wasn’t set yet,” he breathes into my ear. “Otherwise it wouldn’t have fallen apart in your hands that way.”
He’s quiet as we finish smoothing the clay, making it blend seamlessly.
“Who is she?” My voice comes out hushed.
“Just a client.” His answer is low and dismissive.
“Yes.” The word vibrates in my ear.
There’s an inexplicable pang in my gut at the thought of him intimately sculpting this gorgeous woman, alone in this private yet open workspace. Especially since he said he wouldn’t sculpt me.
I turn around, but he doesn’t back away this time and now he’s right in my face.
He shaved down to a thin stubble again, probably because he was on his way to meet a client. God, he’s gorgeous. This close up, every one of his defined features is clear. His bottom lip has a small indentation, like he bites it out of habit. What a picture his lips would make. I’d love to run my hand along them and feel him. But this time, I refrain from touching.
1. Where does this scene take place?
Griffin is a sculptor in New York City. He works out of a warehouse downtown. It’s a huge, empty space, sectioned off with metal accordion dividers.
Whenever a client enters, their steps echo on the concrete floor, which is usually the only sound, aside from Griffin’s soft Blues music playing in the background. There’s a long table, littered with sculptures and a stool, which Griffin rarely sits on while he works. A simple couch, chair and area rug warm up the cold, stark space, so his clients can be comfortable while he sculpts them.
2. If this were a movie, what song would be playing in the background?
I’d have to say Just Breathe by Anna Nalick. That song is so powerful and conjures up everything Frankie was feeling in that moment with Griffin standing up against her.
3. What do you love the most about this scene?
Sculpture has been everything to Griffin for years. It’s his savior and his sanity. This is the first time in the book Griffin brings Frankie into this world, even though it happens by accident. And he chooses to do it intimately. If it had been anyone else, he could have stood on the other side of the table and fixed the sculpture. But he’s drawn to her, even though he’s trying not to be, and allows himself this moment of closeness. Also, in the full scene, Frankie describes Griffin’s sculpture in depth, letting the reader see how affected she already is by the power of his work, and by him as an artist.
4. Was this scene difficult or easy to write?
This was actually one of the first scenes I wrote. I’m a total pantser, writing without an official outline as I go. When I get an idea for a book, I write bunches of scenes, out of order, as they come to me. They give me an idea about where I want my story to go and who my characters are before I begin my first draft. They get changed a lot, when I start drafting, but still get my creative juices flowing.
I found the scene really fun to write, but it also had to be just so. I wanted you to feel their connection even before they actually did anything. Just the act of mending the clay with his hands over hers and the proximity of their bodies had to be intimate.
5. Can you tell us a secret about this scene?
I wasn’t sure exactly which way I wanted to end this scene. (The chapter does not end here.) I didn’t know if I wanted him to walk away from her (as he’d been doing), if they should kiss, if they should hook up right there in the warehouse. I had to play it out by writing it a few ways to see which way I liked it and which way felt most true to what Griffin would have done. I won’t tell you what I decided. ;) But I can tell you that in the end, I think it played out in a way that was very consistent with Griffin’s personality.
Instead of telling you how I’ve always loved to write (which is true) or how I dabbled in different genres for years while I was a teacher, before I took it up full-time (also true), I’d like to let you get to know me a little.
I love trying all different foods. I enjoy everything from street meat to decadent delicacies. When I travel, I pester the locals for restaurant recommendations, off the beaten path. Having said that, I am a savory fan. I don’t have a sweet tooth. I’d much rather have another bite of dinner and one more glass of wine that save room for dessert. There is one exception to this rule. Reese’s peanut butter cups. Sometimes I think I love those more than I love my children. I’m kidding. Maybe.
I’m left handed. I blame my horrendous handwriting on this, even though I don’t really believe they’re related. Everything in this world is built for and by righties. (Ever try using a can opener with your left hand?) So when I meet another left-handed person, I feel an immediate bond to her, like we’re in this special club. A club founded on being inconvenienced. When I was young, I was desperate for my sister to be a leftie like me. So even though she grabbed things with her right hand, I’d quickly switch them to her left. Now she’s ambidextrous.
I always save the best of everything for last. It’s a compulsion. I don’t like pizza crust very much, so I eat it first. I tear it off, piece by piece (I don’t bite the slice backwards. I’m not a Neanderthal, for God’s sake), until there’s just a little bit left in the center. I use this as a handle.
I have an irrational fear of lice, bedbugs and any other insect that can become an infestation.
I prefer beaches over grass, heels over flats, dramas over comedies, coffee over tea, night over morning and fall over spring.
Thank you for sharing this funny and yet romantic scene between Griffin and Frankie, K.K.!
Please leave a comment for K.K. about this wonderful scene. :)