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The rain hit with gale-force winds after Jill, Sawyer, and Gladys were seated in the small café on the outskirts of Gainesville, going toward Bonham. It completely obliterated any of the traffic on Highway 82 going east or west, but they weren’t interested in trucks and cars. They were too hungry to care who was going where that Sunday afternoon.
Gladys picked up the menu the waitress put before her. “We barely dodged gettin’ soaked to the skin before we got those cows all sorted out, didn’t we?”
“Looks like a toad strangler to me. I’ll have sweet tea,” Sawyer told the middle-aged waitress.
She looked at Jill, who nodded. “Me too.”
“Coffee. Hot and black,” Gladys said. “We all agreed on chicken-fried steaks?”
“Comes with mashed potatoes and sawmill gravy, two biscuits, and a side salad, and your choice of okra, black-eyed peas, or corn on the cob,” she said.
“Okra,” Sawyer said.
“Same,” Jill said.
“Peas,” Gladys said. “Y’all might want to change your minds. Their peas are like Granny used to make, with plenty of bacon.”
“Then bring us an extra side of peas, and we’ll share it,” Sawyer said.
“Just to get something straight here before we finish and she brings the ticket, this dinner is on me. Y’all are supposed to have Sunday off,” Gladys said.
“Make a deal with you.” Sawyer grinned. “I’ll help take care of feeding this evening if you’ll throw dessert in too. I saw pecan pie on the menu.”
“Ahh, man!” Jill groaned.
“You don’t have to help.” Sawyer touched her knee under the table.
She covered his hand with her own and squeezed. Her hand was cold, even through the denim of his jeans. Was she telling him that she wanted to help so that they’d have time to engage in wild, passionate sex? He smiled at that thought and mentally went about undressing her right there in the restaurant.
“Yes, I do have to help,” Jill said. “Pecan pie is my favorite dessert ever, and I’ll help with chores for a slice of it. It’s raining so hard, we won’t even be able to see where we are driving when we start home. I hope it’s slacked off before it’s feeding time.”
Another squeeze. Which kind of driving was she talking about? He’d be willing to crawl into the backseat of his truck in the pouring rain and drive in a whole different way than making a truck go forward or backward.
“You’ll be able to see just fine in about thirty minutes. Those clouds are on the move. They aren’t settling down to stay. They’re passing through,” Sawyer said. “I should tell you that Finn called before we left and offered to come help if we needed it. He’d heard that the rain was headed our way and didn’t want us to get all the cattle sorted out in vain because we couldn’t see to fix the fence in the downpour. I told him we’d take a rain check on dinner at Salt Draw.”
Jill picked up his hand and moved it into his own lap. When he glanced her way, it was evident that the warmth in the café had little to do with the high color in her cheeks. So her mind had plummeted straight into the gutter, or was it the bedroom in this case too? He grinned and turned his attention to the food the waitress set before him.
“Yes, ma’am, they are some fine peas,” he said when he tasted the black-eyed peas.
“Yep, just like Granny made, both of my grannies,” Jill agreed.
If every thought hadn’t been sexual in the last ten minutes, it might not have felt like they were sharing a hell of a lot more than a bowl of Southern-style black-eyed peas. The feeling they shared over that bowl of peas solidified his thinking—that he was right where he should be at this time in his life and everything was going down the right path.
The rain had slowed to a few sprinkles when they left the café, and the sun was shining brightly when Sawyer parked the truck in front of the bunkhouse. “It’s four o’clock. I’ll load the feed, and we’ll get the evening chores done, and then I need to give my mama a call.”
“Too late for a nap, though,” Gladys said. “I’m going to help you kids with the chores. If I sleep now, I’ll be awake half the night.”
“I’m going inside and putting on a pair of jeans and an old shirt. It’s a wonder I got any kind of job done in this straight skirt when it came to fixin’ fence,” Jill said. “And then I’m going to play with Piggy and Chick. I bet they missed us, Sawyer. I won’t be long, and I promise to pet them only one time before I come back out to help with chores.”
* * *
Something Sawyer said about the clouds being on the move and not settling down stuck in Jill’s mind as they fed and watered the cattle that evening. Was she like that? Would she tire of the whole Burnt Boot scene and hurry to another place and another job before spring?
Sitting so close to him in church, working side by side with him to get the cattle taken care of and the fence fixed, then pressed up against his side in the café, had put nervous flutters in her gut. She wasn’t sure if the message was to fly or plant roots. Maybe feeling right was nothing more than an elusive butterfly.
“Did you call your mama?” she asked as she cut open the last bag of feed.
“I did, but it went to voice mail. She forgets her cell phone most of the time when she leaves the house. I left a message,” Sawyer answered.
“Oh. My. Sweet. Jesus.” Gladys pointed over the fence into Wild Horse territory.
“What? Is another one cut? Dammit to hell!” Jill said.
“I don’t see any dangling barbed wire,” Sawyer said.
“Stop the truck. Those big old fancy blondie cattle of Naomi’s are all gone. That means they’re in with my cows,” Gladys said.
Sawyer hopped out of the back of the truck and opened Jill’s door. “Why are we stopping here? The cattle are used to being fed closer down to the end of the pasture.”
“Naomi’s fancy cows are missing from the pen, and Aunt Gladys is checking to see how they got out.”
He put his hands on her waist and helped her out like an old-time cowboy would take his woman from a wagon seat. “Well, shit! We’ll be out here past dark.”
“Y’all two drive on down to the feeding spot, and I’ll walk the fence line,” Gladys yelled.
Sawyer brushed a quick kiss on Jill’s lips and said, “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” He picked her up and settled her back into the passenger’s seat and whistled around the truck.
“So why didn’t you?” she asked when he’d buckled into the old work truck.
“Are you getting testy with me?”
“Maybe, if you’re too ashamed of me to kiss me in public,” she said. “Or hold my hand in church.”
“Are you picking a fight because you don’t want to continue this relationship?” he asked.
“Why would you ask a fool question like that?”
“Because I’ve done the same thing more than once the past two years. Start getting close to a commitment and then do some serious backpeddling. You’ve probably done the same thing since your last breakup, so I understand if you want to slow this wagon down. But let me say something, right now and right here. I’m not ashamed to kiss you, hold your hand, or to stand up in church and tell the whole damn lot of the people in Burnt Boot that we are dating and we are an item,” he said. “I’ll be damned!”
“What?” she mumbled.
He was out of the truck and pointing before she realized what he was talking about.
“The cattle on this side of the fence all have Fiddle Creek brands. There’s not a fancy blondie in the mix,” he said. “We might as well feed our herd and tell Gladys to stop walking the fence row. And, Jill, I meant what I said.”
Jill inched her phone up out of her hip pocket and called Gladys. “There’s nothing down here but Fiddle Creek cows,” she said when Gladys finally answered on the fourth ring.
“Looks like their herd, all but for one rangy old heifer, has disappeared like the Brennans’ hogs. I wonder if Wallace will be giving us a good price on beef next week.” She laughed.
“Aunt Gladys! Have you been buying stolen pork?” Jill asked.
“Wallace told me he bought those pigs fair and square, and he had the receipts to prove it,” Gladys said. “I was making a joke. Rain has probably washed away any tracks, and I’ll bet you that the fence problem up close to the road this morning was a distraction to bring all the guards to the south for help.”
“Smart Brennans,” Jill said.
“Oh, honey, Naomi Gallagher is going to shit little green apples when I make the call to tell her that her precious new breed is all gone but one heifer,” Gladys said.
“Ain’t life a bitch?” Jill hit the “end” button and turned around to find Sawyer so close that she had to put out her hands to keep from crashing into him.
His arms circled her waist, and he gazed down into her eyes. “What’s a bitch?”
“Life. Looks like the Brennans created a diversion and stole all those highbred cattle. There’s only one lonesome old heifer left over in that pasture.”
Sawyer set her up on the tailgate of the truck. “You give a damn about that heifer right now?”
She shook her head.
He lowered his lips to hers, claiming them in a blistering-hot kiss that cold afternoon. When he broke the kiss, his brown eyes still captured hers and held them without blinking. “I mean it, Jill. I like where we are headed, and I don’t want to stop, but I will slow down.”
She put a gloved hand on each of his cheeks and drew his lips to hers for another searing kiss. When she broke, her eyes bored into his. “I’m not sure what I want, but I know I don’t want to stop completely.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s kick this hay off the truck and go get Gladys. Damned pig war sure has a habit of getting in my way.”
Chapter 22
There had to be more to wooing a woman than feeding cattle, minding the store, tending the bar, and sex. That wasn’t a bad combination in getting to know a woman, but now that he knew Jill, he wanted to hang the moon for her, make the stars brighter, and force daisies to grow from frozen ground.
“Shit! I forgot,” he murmured.
“You talking to me?” she asked.
Kittens scrambled over her lap, chasing each other, rolling around like clumsy wrestlers as they bit each other’s tails and ears. In the beginning, Chick was the mean girl, spitting and scaring the bejesus out of Piggy, but these days it was a pretty even match.
“I need to call my mama, or else she’ll get in her truck and drive up here,” Sawyer answered.
“I probably should call my mama too, but I’m sure that neither wild horses nor the National Guard could force her to drive to Texas, or even to fly here, though.”
Sawyer carried two cups of hot chocolate to the living area and handed one to Jill. “So she doesn’t like Texas? Do I hear a ‘but’ in your voice?”
“You do. But there’s only one love in a lifetime like what she and my dad had. She still gets misty eyed when she talks about him, and Texas reminds her of him,” Jill said.
“You think you’ll ever find that love?” Sawyer asked.
Jill thought about the question so long that he didn’t think she was going to answer, but finally she said, “Maybe I will. Do you?”
“If I think with my heart and not with my brain.” Sawyer scooped her up from the floor, amazed like always that someone with so much power and energy didn’t weigh a lot more. He buried his face in her hair and hoped the kittens didn’t get underfoot as he carried her toward his bed. “I do not plan on letting my head lead my heart ever again.”
“Me, either. Don’t forget to shut the door,” she said.
Gently, he set her on the bed, and with a few soft, well-placed kisses, he undressed her, then patted the pillow. “Welcome to Sawyer O’Donnell’s massage parlor. The hot rocks are out of commission today, but I’m available for a sixty-minute massage if the lady would like one.”
“Oh, my God, Sawyer! You didn’t tell me there was a lady in the room. Give me my clothes,” she joked.
“Then I’ll rephrase. Does this sexy, hotter’n hell spitfire of a redhead want a massage today? I could make a phone call if you’d like the ultimate in hot rocks, scented lotion, and all the fancy words in the sex-to-sexty dictionary. Would you like Tyrell or Quaid?”
She flipped over and glared at him. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“What?”
“Bring up those two names in this bedroom when I’m stark naked.” Her eyes said that she wasn’t teasing or flirting. “Now, here’s the deal. I want a massage, and I hear that hunky cowboy named Sawyer is available. But the only way he’s going to get paid is if he takes his clothes off to do my massage. Because when I get ready to pay him, I damn sure do not want to take time to undress him.”
“Your wish and all that…” He kicked off his boots, and his clothing landed somewhere near the end of the bed, a piece at a time thrown over his shoulder.
* * *
“Where did you learn to do that?” Jill moaned when he dug his thumbs into her shoulder muscles. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t even want to know. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I don’t knit.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry all I’ve got for lotion is this cherry-almond stuff from Walmart. I buy it because it’s the best I’ve found for my hands when they get chapped.”
“It’s my favorite,” she said.
His hands moved down her back to the rib area, turning gentle as he worked the kinks out and then harder as he massaged her butt muscles. She could farm him out and make more money than ranching. All she needed was a number machine to nail to the front porch and…suddenly a vision of Betsy lying naked on the bed popped into her mind.
“Hey, you aren’t supposed to tense up. You’re supposed to relax and let me work magic on those tired, overworked muscles,” Sawyer said.
She blinked away the image of Betsy’s face and forced herself to unwind. The Gallaghers and the Brennans were not going to spoil her Sunday evening. She didn’t give a damn if Wallace did slaughter the pigs and already had those fancy cows packaged up into hamburger meat. She had a naked cowboy giving her the best massage she’d ever had.
When Sawyer finished with her toes, he flipped her over and started back up the front side. Lord, God, almighty! She’d never be able to put lotion on her hands again without thinking of his hands as they discovered every single erogenous zone on her body. That little space between the pad of her foot and her toes, the inside of her knees, halfway up her thighs, and the soft spot where her leg attached to her body—how could they make her hormones hum like a finely tuned fiddle?
By the time he got to her aching breasts, she was fighting to keep her back straight and not arch toward him, to keep from pushing him over on his back and riding him in unabandoned hot sex. But she wanted passionate lovemaking, not a five-minute quickie.
Listeningtoyourheart,areyou? the voice in her head asked.
She floated so high above reality that she didn’t even argue or answer.
He ended the massage by kissing all her fingers, one by one, and then he settled himself on top of her, his mouth finding hers in a kiss so full of passion that all semblance of gravity escaped. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched against him. Quickie. Two hours. All night. Five minutes. She couldn’t bear another minute without him inside her.
“Now?” he asked.
“I should return the massage, but, holy shit, Sawyer, I can’t even think,” she panted.
He slid into her body in one fluid movement, and they rocked together. She clung to him, fingernails pressing into his back, and legs locked around him. His kisses deepened, and her hands moved to his cheeks and then up to grasp his hair. She wanted to touch him, all of him, so her hands roamed from shoulders to his firm butt, down his legs as far as she could reach, and back again.
He took her to the very brink of an exploding climax and then backed off to let her cool down before building up the tempo again. “Open your eyes, Jill, so I can see down to the bottom of your soul,” he said between short gasps.
“All you’ll see right now is a red-hot desire for you,” she answered, then pulled his lips to hers for another searing kiss.
He grinned. “Then keep your eyes open and let me see that.”
It was cold in the room, but every inch of her body was on fire. Her toes curled. Her body ached with desire.
“Now?” he asked.
“Three hours ago,” she answered.
She imagined a cliff overlooking a deep blue sea. She’d climbed to the top, and when Sawyer said her name in a hoarse Texas drawl, she wrapped both arms around his back and growled his name as they tumbled into the cool water together.
When he could catch his breath, he rolled to one side, but he didn’t let go of her. “Hot damn!” he muttered.
“You got that right.” She snuggled as close to him as she could get and shut her eyes. She wouldn’t sleep. She’d just stay there until her wobbly knees could take her to her own bedroom. But in two minutes she’d drifted off into that wonderful place that consenting adults go when the sex is so damn good they can’t move a muscle afterward.
Jill dreamed of a pasture full of bright yellow daisies with half a dozen kids romping around at a picnic. Little red-haired girls dressed in denim shorts and cowboy boots. Dark-haired boys in boots and jeans. And there was Sawyer, a little older with a few shots of gray in his temples, but he still looked at her with the same brown-eyed wonder that she’d seen right before they’d fallen asleep.
She awoke to the sound of running water and whistling. A quick glance toward the clock said that it was five o’clock. That had to be morning, not evening, because the last time she checked, it was past six. Her feet hit the cold floor, and she did a quick tiptoe dance to the bathroom, where she threw back the shower curtain and stepped in front of Sawyer.
“Good mornin’.” He grinned. “I was going to let you sleep while I went out to do the chores. There’s a cold, blustery wind blowing. Even Piggy and Chick are hugging the woodstove this morning.”
“Thank you, but I’m wide awake. We can make breakfast, and then after we eat, we’ll do chores. I hate to even think about that day coming when this is in my hands.”
“Come summer we’ll hire some help for the ranch. Gladys says she gets half a dozen boys to come and help soon as school is out. Polly should be well, and things will let up a little then.” Sawyer picked up the shampoo, poured out a healthy amount on her hair, and worked it in from top to bottom. “Now turn around, and I’ll rinse it all away before we use the conditioner. Your hair is silky, Jill. With all those curls, you’d think it would be wiry, but it’s not.”
“Neither is this.” She touched the soft dark hair on his chest.
“So you don’t want me to shave it all off?”
“Why would you do that? I love it. Little boys have bare chests. Men have hair. Hunky cowboys have just the right amount,” she answered.
“Do I get to be in that latter category?”
“Oh, yes, you do.” She rolled up on her toes and kissed him. “Holy shit, Sawyer!”
“What?”
“Wet kisses are downright…well, they shoot desire through a body like adrenaline in the flight-or-fight mode.”
He chuckled. “You going to fight or run?”
She giggled. “I’m not going anywhere but to the barn for hay, cowboy.”
“Not to bed first with that burst of desire?”
She handed him the conditioner. “The cattle would starve plumb to death if we went back to bed, because we wouldn’t get out of it all day. Now when summer gets here and they’re put out to pasture on green grass and we don’t have to feed twice a day, that’s another story.”
“But then”—he turned her around so the shower could rinse the conditioner from her hair—“we’ll have plowing, sowing, clearing land, and all that.”
“And then, like you said, we’re going to hire some help. Got any relatives hiding down south who might want to move to Burnt Boot?”
“For ranchin’, or for the store and bar?”
“Ranchin’, and maybe some evenings in the bar,” she answered.
“I’ll check around. That reminds me, I never did get around to callin’ my folks. Did you?”
She smiled up at him. “I’m naked in a shower with you, and you think of your mother? What’s wrong with this picture?”
“You mentioned relatives. My mind went to some cousins who might be interested in a job, and then I thought about what their mamas would think of them coming to Burnt Boot. My mother sent me up here to spy on Finn. She didn’t expect me to stay.”
“Neither did mine when I told her I’d moved here.” Jill stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. “And, darlin’, my mama was the last thing on my mind last night. When we get near a bed, I don’t think of anything but you.”
He chuckled. “Well, then I will always remember to keep a bed right handy.”
* * *
On Monday morning, Polly said if she had to stay in the house one more day she was going to climb the walls. So Gladys loaded her up in the truck, took her to the store, and told Sawyer and Jill they didn’t have to come in until after lunch.
“Aunt Gladys, why don’t we come on in when we finish feeding, and you can take Polly for a ride?” Jill asked.
“Give me that phone,” Polly said loudly.
“I could hear what you said, girl. I don’t want to go for a ride. I want to talk to people. I want them to come in the store, and hell, I don’t even care if they get into a knock-down drag-out fight right here,” Polly said. “I don’t like this getting-old shit.”
Jill grinned. “Well, Auntie, it’s not for wimps. Only the strong get to do it.”
“You always could out argue a stop sign. But it won’t work today. You and that handsome Sawyer spend the day together. After lunch, my ass. I’m staying right here until closing time, whether Gladys likes it or not. I hope everybody in town knows I’m here and comes in to visit.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m not arguing anymore,” Jill said.
She visualized a long, lazy afternoon in the bedroom, but it didn’t happen. Right after they finished their morning routine, a heifer decided to give birth to a calf that was too big for her. That required an hour of getting her into a barn out of the cold, where the calf would have a better chance of living, and then pulling the bull calf out when he was born butt-first. They’d barely gotten their hands cleaned up and made sure the new little fellow could stand and nurse when the phone rang.
Jill fetched it from her pocket and answered without checking the ID.
“You win,” Polly said. “I’m pooped, and if I have to hear another person tell me how their great-aunt or uncle or neighbor’s kid broke their leg, I’m going to throw them through the plate glass window. Gladys made me call you. Some friend she is. She wouldn’t even do it for me, since I threw such a fit. If you and Sawyer will come on to the store, I’m ready to go home and get a nap.”
“We’ll be there soon as we go home and get the blood off us,” Jill said.
“Shit, girl! Who’d you kill, a Gallagher or a Brennan?”
“Neither one. We just pulled a calf. Tell Aunt Gladys it’s a bull, and mama and baby are just fine. We’ve got them in a stall in the barn for the next few days, though, with this cold weather,” Jill answered.
“Take your time but not too much. I’m worn plumb out,” Polly said.
* * *
Sawyer spent most of the afternoon dozing with his hat over his eyes. Jill got bored with chatting via her tablet with her mother and went to the kitchen to bake cookies. At four, she waved a paper plate with half a dozen chocolate chip cookies under his nose.
“Wake up and smell the goodies,” she whispered.
He grabbed her arm. The two front chair legs popped down on the floor, and he pulled her into his lap and tossed his hat on the counter all in one movement. “I’d love fresh-baked cookies, but I’d give them up for a kiss.”
“Today is your lucky day, cowboy. You can have both.” She set the cookies on the counter beside his hat and plastered herself to his chest.
The temperature in the store jacked up at least ten degrees when their lips touched. He forgot about cookies. She couldn’t think of anything but the burning desire for more than kisses.
Finally, he drew back, picked her up, and set her on the floor. “It’s after four, darlin’, and it’s starting to rain. Why don’t you let me take care of the ranchin’ this afternoon? I don’t think there’s going to be many people getting out in this weather.”
“Sounds good to me…what in the hell is that?” She pointed out the window.
Sawyer followed the angle, but nothing interested him as much as kissing her. She was cute when her lips were all bee-stung with kisses, her hair was tangled, and she had that bedroom look in her eyes.
“Looks like flowers for someone. Maybe Polly shouldn’t have left so quick.” He picked up a cookie.
“These are scrumptious, but they take a far second to kissing you,” he mumbled.
“Mercy, Sawyer. Someone must love Polly a lot to send a bouquet that big.”
Two people got out, one lady holding an umbrella over the other one as she carried an enormous vase of red roses into the store. The flowers didn’t totally escape the rain, but the few that had been kissed by drops looked even better for it.
“Jill Cleary?” The lady eyed Sawyer up and down as if she’d like to jump over the counter and pounce on him.
“No, that would be Jill over there.” He nodded toward the other end of the counter.
“Are you sure they aren’t for Polly Cleary?” Jill asked.
“No, ma’am. The card says Jill. Nasty, cold rain out there, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said.
Jill tore into the envelope and groaned. “Shit!”
“And I thought you’d like them. My heart is hurt.” Sawyer clamped a hand over his chest.
“You know very well you didn’t send this shit. You would have sent daisies, not roses. These are from Quaid Brennan.”
“Want me to throw them out into the rain?”
“Maybe. Yes. No. I’ll think about it. Maybe Aunt Polly would like them after all.” She smiled.
Thirty minutes later a different florist van arrived with a long, slim box. Sawyer had no doubts what was inside that one, and he didn’t even want to know who they were from. Dammit all to hell on a silver platter! Jill had gotten two dozen roses on the very day he’d asked Finn to pick up a bouquet of those brightly colored daisies he’d seen at the Walmart store. He’d even given him the key to the bunkhouse so he could put them in his bedroom and surprise her with them.
They’d pale in comparison to a vase the size of the Grand Canyon filled with roses, fluffy stuff, and a big red bow, and then a box with long-stemmed ones waiting inside. Not even the corny poem he’d written to go with the daisies would bring them up to the standards of the roses.
“Red?” he asked when Jill pulled the ribbon off and looked inside.
“Oh, yeah. Red, like funeral flowers.”
“Where did you get that notion? Red roses mean love, not death.”
“Not in my mind,” she said. “When we buried my grandpa and my granny, both sets, there were red roses on the top of their caskets. I always think of funerals when I see them, and here are two dozen of the damn things for me to contend with.”
“Do we take them home or to Polly?” she asked when they locked up at exactly five o’clock.
“Your flowers, so it’s your choice. I take it those in the box are from Tyrell?”
“You got it.”
“I don’t imagine Polly would want anything from the Gallaghers or the Brennans, even if they came through you,” he said.
“Then let’s go home.”
He drove to the bunkhouse with a vase of roses and a box of the same in the backseat. She ignored them when they reached the bunkhouse, so he carried them in and set them on the kitchen table.
“I’m going to my room to call Aunt Gladys. I’ll ask her if she wants these damn things or if I should just toss them out into the yard,” she said.
The daisies were lying in the middle of the bed in the green paper. He took the poem he’d labored over for hours that morning and put it on the spare pillow, the one that held her pretty red hair when they spent the night together. Then one by one, he scattered daisies up across the quilt.
“That’s about as creative as I can get,” he said. “I feel like I’m clashing with money and power.”
“Hello! Sawyer, where are you? Aunt Gladys said to do whatever I want with them, but she and Aunt Polly don’t want anything from the Gallaghers or the Brennans, just like you said.”
“Hungry?” He made his way from bedroom to kitchen table.
“Not really. Mostly angry that they think they can buy me with flowers,” she said.
She opened the card on the box again. “From Tyrell, saying thank you for helping take care of the cattle situation.” She poked every one of them down into the vase with the ones that Quaid had sent.
“Quaid Gallagher says red roses remind him of me,” she said. “I probably should tell them both that they remind me of death and sorrow. And just because I have red hair doesn’t mean I like red roses.”
“That’s a big arrangement to leave on the table. I don’t think I can see over them when we sit down to eat,” he said.
“Don’t intend to leave them here. They are going into my office. Remind me to keep them watered,” she said, ripping the bow from around the vase.
“What are you going to do with that?” he asked.
“Watch this. Piggy, Piggy, Piggy,” she called out.
