When I got home, a spicy scent lured me into the kitchen. My stomach grumbled and I might’ve started drooling the moment I spotted the cheesy enchiladas cooling on the counter.They were drenched in homemade queso.My favorite.Dropping my bag on the floor, I skipped over to where Rosa was placing the plates on the table. I wrapped my arms around her from behind and squeezed.Rosa laughed as she turned. “It’s the queso, isn’t it?”Nodding, I dropped my arms and stepped back.

So how long do I have before—what were their names? Carl and Rosa? Yeah, that’s them. How long do I have before they come back?”“I don’t know. Maybe...maybe an hour or so?” My hands felt incredibly small in his.That lopsided grin was back. “I doubt they’d be happy to find me here.”“Why?”His brows rose. “Maybe I’m wrong. They used to coming home to find some strange guy sitting on their couch?”I rolled my eyes.“That’s it, isn’t it?” Rider tugged on my hands, and I rose, letting him pull me down to the couch beside him. He leaned back, sliding one arm around my shoulders and tucking me against his side. “Just par for the course with you, huh?”I didn’t know what to do with my hands since he’d let go of them, so I folded them in my lap. “I’ve never had a...guy here.”Rider stiffened and then he twisted his neck so he was looking at me.Did I seriously admit that out loud? Squeezing my eyes shut, I sighed. “I’m just...going to shut up now.”He chuckled. “Don’t do that. I like listening to you talk.

Rosa!" Sally says. "The police are here to help you, not to hear a lecture on comparative murder rates.

She promised to be good. She wasn't.

I am above the forest region, amongst grand rocks & such a torrent as you see in Salvator Rosa's paintings vegetation all a scrub of rhodos. with Pines below me as thick & bad to get through as our Fuegian Fagi on the hill tops, & except the towering peaks of P. S. [perpetual snow] that, here shoot up on all hands there is little difference in the mt scenery—here however the blaze of Rhod. flowers and various colored jungle proclaims a differently constituted region in a naturalist's eye & twenty species here, to one there, always are asking me the vexed question, where do we come from?[Letter to Charles Darwin 24 Jun 1849]