Just added!
Excerpt from Where the Campaign Ends
Copyright 2018, J.P. Dalton
“You look lost,” Maggie said mildly.
Ryan cocked his head to the side before shaking it, bringing himself back to life. “I, um,” he started, then regained his rhetorical footing. “I was looking for breakfast, actually.”
“Then you definitely are lost,” she said. “First time in town?”
“Obviously so.” Ryan stepped around the wood railing and sat down in one of the wood chairs on the patio. “Are you staying here?” he asked, gesturing toward the hotel with a tilt of his head.
“No, no,” she said, laughing briefly. “I just borrow the patio from time to time.”
“The owners don’t mind that you’re using the place as a yoga studio?”
“This is not my studio,” she said. “I simply prefer to practice my personal yoga in sight of mother ocean when the universe so allows. The owners have an understanding of her ways, and we have an understanding regarding the patio.”
“Her ways?”
Maggie stepped off her mat and walked to the patio’s edge by the glass. “Where I end up depends entirely on her,” Maggie said patiently. “If the tide allows, I’ll take a spot on the sand. But on days the tide decides to run as high as it does today, I come here.”
Ryan stood up and moved next to her. “Isn’t the tide a function of the moon and gravity?”
“So they say.” Ryan looked at her quizzically, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m fully aware of the science,” she said quickly. “The moon in its orbit determines high tides and low tides. But as for how high or how low any given wave breaks upon the sand, scientific explanation doesn’t do the process justice. It lacks lyricism.”
“I’ll grant you that.” He extended his right hand toward her. “My name is Ryan, incidentally, though I’m not sure if it’s sufficiently lyrical.”
She smiled anew as she took his hand, a dimple creasing her right cheek but not the left. “It will suffice,” she said. “Maggie.”
Ryan turned toward the water, feigning a casualness he didn’t feel. “Where, if I might ask, is your real studio?”
Maggie stared at him for a moment or two, then shook her head. “It is where I need to be shortly lest I disappoint my students,” she said, seeing sadness flash across Ryan’s face at her deflection. “If you’re still feeling hungry, there’s a wonderful place up on Camino del Mar that features crepes.”
“More lyrical than simple eggs and bacon, I suppose?” He turned back in her direction, but she had stepped back across the patio and was rolling up her mat. His gaze lingered. “It was nice meeting you, Maggie,” he said, faking a smile as he started to walk back toward the parking lot. He was between the patio and the lifeguard station when she called out to him.
“How long are you here for, Ryan?”
“To be determined,” he said. “Why?”
She walked to him and touched him lightly on the left elbow. “Enjoy your breakfast,” she said with a smile and walked the opposite direction.
