Once his life had been like this. He applied strength and determination to a messy problem until the stickiness went away, strands of sense formed and suddenly a hopeless mess was transformed into something beautiful, delectable, something everyone wanted.Now, no matter how hard he tried, no one wanted what he had to offer.
Logan's been one of Marietta's most eligible bachelors for too long. Ever since divorcing that useless ditz of a wife, we've all been watching waiting for him to dip his toes into the dating pool again. Nothing. Then, you show up and what happens? He dives straight into the deep end, without taking off his shoes." - Aunt Mabel to Samara
What do you think?" she asked, snapping him out of his reverie. "How am I doing?"...He squatted down beside her. "You did a good job."Their knees touched but instead of pulling away, Sam held her position, pressing ever so slightly against him."Really." Her voice took on a teasing tone. "Or are you just saying that because I'm a drywall virgin and you want me to have good memories about my first time?
She missed having someone at her back, knowing that it didn't all fall on her, every hour, every day, every month, every task.But it was the everyday intimacy that left a gaping hole. The teasing you wear-the-black-teddy-I'll-kill-the-giant-arachnid and the I'll-clean-the-showerdrain-if-you-drape-your-hair-over-my-belly negotiations. Samara swallowed hard against the thickness in her throat. "The Spider-Killing Factor. You didn't appreciate it until it was gone.She bet Logan would be a great spider-killer.
I can't afford to gamble."His breath came out in a hiss, but he tightened his grip around her."So we'll take it slow then," he said. "I won't push you beyond what you want, Sam. But fair warning: I will push you. When this happens it'll be on your terms, because you want it as much as I do." Not if, but when.
You should stop by the shop. I'll make you up a special Welcome-To-Marietta chocolate basket for Samara. She'll love it."Of course. He should have thought of it himself. "She's got this salted caramel thing that will earn you major points," said Dawson. "the ladies love it.""I shouldn't say this in church." Sage looked down, and dropped her voice to a whisper. "But it's been called orgasmic."With that word, for a split second, everyone around him disappeared. Logan imagined putting a tiny square of rich, smooth candy onto Samara's tongue, watching her lips move as she savored it, kissing her, sharing the sweet, silky heat. What sound would she make when the flavor hit the back of her mouth? Would she moan? Would she ask for more? "It's a gift that keeps on giving," added Dawson, waggling his eyebrows.
I wonder if you could do me a favor," he said, angling his body away from Jade. From the corner of his eye, he saw her tip her head watchfully."What's that?" said Samara with a frown."There's a park across town that perfect for walking dogs. I love to go there on Sunday afternoons but, well, as it happens, I don't have a dog."A slow smile spread across Samara's face."You want to borrow Bob.""I understand it's a lot to ask. Dogs being as precious as they are and all. I know Jade could never part with Bob, even for a little while." then, he put his finger to his chin, as if the idea had just occurred to him. "You could join me if you wanted to. I guess.
Remember that old Disney movie, the cartoon with the dogs, Lady and the Tramp?" she said with a jerky laugh. "it's Jade's favorite of course. We've watched it a million times. This reminds me of that scene where they're eating spaghetti."He raised his eyebrows. He knew exactly the scene. Both dogs both slurped the same piece and ended up kissing.
He could hear her ramping up and rather than letting it happen, he silenced her the best way he knew hos.He lowered his head to hers, slowly, so she could see him coming. Her lips parted, in anticipation, in fear, out of breathlessness or a need to speak, he didn't care. He pressed his against them and heard her quick intake of breath.Her hands went up to his neck and she pulled herself closer, her mouth softening against his, opening, until they were necking like the pair of teenagers they had been, urgently, desperately, the rest of the world falling away until it was only them, no one else mattering, nothing necessary to their survival but that they hold on, hold on, hold on to each other and never let go.
It's nothing fancy, I opened a jar of sauce and cooked the linguine. But there's fresh Parmesan and I even found a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.""You found wine." Earlier he'd been thinking about microwaved Who Hash, solitude and if he was very lucky, beer.But a hot, fresh-cooked meal? Candles? Wine? And a chatty yoga-elf chef? With a body like a Las Vegas showgirl?
She was licking something off the end of a wooden spoon. Red froze. His body reacted as if he'd walked in on her twirling half-naked on a pole....Frankie was intriguing. Unsettling. Challenging He wanted to figure her out. He wanted to play strip poker with her. He wanted to throw her on the couch and ---"A touch more oregano, I think." Frankie pointed the spoon at him.
Rory's big labradoodle made a snap judgement that Frankie was everything her life had been missing up until now. She flung herself into the girl's arms, wiggling and whining, a shaggy mass of chocolate-colored enthusiasm."Mistral likes you, I see." While he, the one who filled the dog's food dish, had gotten nothing but suspicious glances since he arrived two days earlier."of course you like me" she said, baby-talking into the dog's fur, "I'm extremely likeable."If the dog's expression was any indication, Frankie was about to get nominated for sainthood....She glanced at him. "Maybe she'd like you more if you weren't so... testosterone-y.""But then you might like me less