Page 59 of Saddles

Roscoe stands up, the little nub of his tail wagging, turns a full circle, and then lies down with his head on my lap again, but this time with his butt on Ford’s leg.

“I see how I rate.” He smiles, then pats Roscoe’s haunches. “So tell me what you’d order at Chino’s if we were to go.”

“I’ll do you one better. I took three semesters of culinary classes as an extra elective. I’d make the best chicken parm you’ve ever had.” I lean back, a smirk tugging at my cheek.

He tilts his head, idly scratching Roscoe’s blue fur. “Okay, but how are you at bacon? ‘Cause there’s an art to it.” His eyes glint in the soft light.

“Call me ‘the Picasso of salted pork’, baby. I can make a BLT with chipotle mayo that would knock your socks off.” I rock my shoulders in cadence of every word, making him laugh.

It’s a deep baritone that fills the space between us and vibrates through me.

I like this version of him much more. When he finally relaxes enough that I can see the lighter side of his brooding persona.

“Let me guess, you’re the ‘DaVinci of desserts’?” He chuckles through the question.

I start giggling with him. “Give me some whipped cream and strawberries, and I can paint the Mona Lisa.”

The air gets heavier as his gaze settles on my mouth. “I bet you could do magic with a little bit of chocolate syrup.” His tongue traces his bottom lip before he looks down.

What I wouldn’t give to taste him one more time. My body buzzes at the memory of our kiss.

Was it really only this morning?

“Mmhmm. I learned how to make a fancy cocoa glaze. It’s hard when it’s cold, but the second you taste it, it melts buttery smooth and practically glides down your throat…like it’s begging to be swallowed.” I let my voice drop into a sultry purr. My pulse is pounding in my ears as I watch his nostrils flare.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he looks anywhere in the room but at me.

“I better go get some wood and get the fire set before bed.” He pushes himself to his feet, and moves towards the door, pausing to readjust himself before he slings on his jacket.

Why does he keep fighting this?

Chapter 19

Ford

What the fuck is wrong with me?

She told me she’s in pain, she’s afraid, and that she needs a friend.

But all I can do is picture her covered in whipped cream with a strawberry between her lips?

I’m a special brand of asshole to be thinking about her that way.

Especially when I have nothing to offer.

No one wants a life like mine. It’s why Sarah left.

April’s just recovering. She thinks I’m the answer to her problems, but I’m not the man she deserves. I don’t want to take advantage of her, lead her on to some happy ending that doesn’t exist.

I can be a friend. Someone she can count on. I’ll do my damndest to be there for her.

But she shouldn’t want me.

I’m not like Mason. He was worthy of another chance at happiness.

The way he treated Carolyn was like a fairy tale.

Shit, I don’t write poems, yet that’s why he got Lori.

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