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I swallow because I am so fucked where Nadia Dalca is concerned.
But you don’t just listen, you hear me.”
This big grumpy recluse, hugging a fluffy ten-pound dog? It’s more than an animal loving gal like me can handle.
Even nervous, Nadia is breathtakingly beautiful.
“Call me Griffy again, and I’ll spank you like the little brat that you are.”
But if Griffin is a flame, I’m a moth, destined to dance in his flames.
If he’s the ocean, I just want to ride the waves.
“Nothing about you is cheap, Nadia. You’re a fucking catch.
I, Griffin Sinclaire, a man’s man and former football God, have a fluffy white dog as a pet. It’s hilarious, but I don’t care. I fucking love this dog.
“Nah, I’d only be playing dumb if I pretended not to notice you eye fucking me while I unloaded hay bales yesterday.”
This girl has me by the throat, and I’m not even sure she realizes it.
Tripod hops up, spins a quick circle, and then presses himself against her. I sigh contentedly at the sight of the two of them there together. A dog I ran over and a girl who ran me over.
Save a horse, ride a cowboy and all that.
I’d break my own heart a million times over to spare hers. I’ll shoulder the pain of what needs to be done if it means she sheds one less tear.
“Meet you at the top, Sinclaire?”
“Meet you at the top, Wildflower.”
I am still head-over-fucking-heels in love with Nadia Dalca.
It’s funny how something you didn’t even know you had can come to mean so much to you.
“But right now, I’m going to beg you to give me another shot. Before? That was a false start. This? This is a clean slate. I want all your right nows. All your tomorrows. I want it all with you.”
