Yours to Keep Quotes

“Josh: Just because you’re not looking for something doesn’t mean you won’t find it.
Sean: Well, aren’t you quite the fucking fortune cookie.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“He could do this. He'd survived boot camp. He'd survived combat and the harsh weather of Afghanistan. He could survive broccoli. Probably.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“Now she had to pretend not to love the man she was pretending to love while pretending she wasn't sleeping with him.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“Oh yes, Sean Kowalski. Your amazing kisses have made all rational thought fly out of my besotted brain. If only you could fill me with your magic penis, I know we'll fall madly in love and live happily ever after.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“Of course I’m getting ideas. You’re hot and I’m not dead. But I know enough not to confuse lust with anything else.”

She snorted and looked out her window. “Oh yes, Sean Kowalski. Your amazing kisses have made all rational thought fly out of my besotted brain. If only you could fill me with your magic penis, I know we’ll fall madly in love and live happily ever after.”

The truck jerked and she glanced over to find him glaring at her. “Don’t ever say that again.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“She kissed the top of his head and stroked his back. “If, a year from now, you were stuck on the tracks and a train was coming, what would you regret? Not taking a road trip to the Grand Canyon? Or not spending that year with Emma?”
He gave a short laugh. “Trust me, Emma is the train.”
“That’s love, honey.” She squeezed a little harder and he felt some of the crappiness he’d been feeling slip away.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“Bobby ran up on the deck and skidded to a stop in front of them. “It’s time for the Kowalski Fourth of July Football Game of Doom!”
Cat laughed and pushed herself out of her seat. “We’ll talk about this some other time, Emma. Go have fun.”
“I’m not sure I want to play football. Especially if there’s doom involved,” she said, but Bobby grabbed her hand and dragged her off the deck.
They were divvied up into teams roughly by size, each with an assortment of men, women and children. Emma was on Sean’s team, which was good. She’d just hide behind him, because the only thing she knew about football was that it involved a lot of hitting.
It only took a few plays to see that the Kowalskis played by their own rules and the few they had were fluid. Mostly they served to ensure the smaller kids didn’t get plowed over, victims of the adults’ competitive streak.
Five minutes into the game, Emma somehow ended up with the ball. She squealed and looked around for somebody—anybody—to hand it off to, but there was nobody. Well, there was Danny, but he was doubled over in laughter.
“Run, Emma,” Lisa yelled.
She ran in the direction her friend was frantically waving her hand, but she only went a few feet before two very strong arms wrapped around her waist and then she was falling. Luckily, she landed on a body instead of the ground.
“I love football,” Mitch said, grinning up at her.
Emma grimaced and managed to get one of her knees on solid ground so she could push herself to her feet. He was quicker and freed himself to stand and help her up.
“They should give you the ball more often,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling and the grin so like Sean’s—but not quite as naughty—in full force.
“Hands off my girl,” Sean told him, pulling on Emma’s elbow.
“You should do a better job of blocking for her.
“Let’s go,” Brian shouted.
The very next play, Mitch intercepted Mike’s pass to Evan and turned to run toward the other end zone. He was halfway there when Sean took him down hard. They hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud that made Emma wince, and came up pushing and shoving.
When Sean drew back his arm to throw the first punch, Mary blew her whistle from the sidelines. “Boys! Enough!”
Instead of heading straight for the huddle, Sean walked to Emma and pulled her into his arms for a hard, almost punishing caveman kiss that made her skin sizzle and her knees go wobbly. Then he glared at his brother for a few long seconds and went back to his team, leaving Emma standing there breathless and discombobulated.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“That’s the important stuff. I could write it on a sticky note, if you want, along with my favorite sexual position. Which isn’t missionary, by the way.” It was right there on the tip of her tongue—then what is your favorite sexual position?—but she bit it back.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“But most important, you make me happy.”
She threw her arms around his neck and—just to be different—she kissed him this time. And then she reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out the blank sticky note. It was a little tattered now, but she held it out to him.
“Wondering what you were going to say has been killing me.”
He took it from her and then pulled out a pen that said Jasper’s Bar and Grille from his back pocket. I love you, he wrote, and then he stuck it to the front of her shirt.
“So you won’t ever doubt it,” he said in a husky voice.
“Let’s go inside and get started on this for-real thing we have going on.” She took his hand and tugged him toward the door. “And, because I love you, I’ll start by stripping you out of that pink shirt.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“This whole month was crazy, with all the pretending, but somewhere along the way it stopped being a lie.”
“Did you go getting ideas about me, Sean Kowalski?”
“I did, and it was one hell of an idea, too. I love you, Emma. I think, deep down, that’s what I wanted to write on that blank sticky note I left on the mirror, but I wasn’t ready yet. I’m ready now. I love you and I want you to marry me. For real.”
Words were flying around in her head, but she couldn’t seem to get them into any kind of coherent thought. “I don’t…I…Are you sure?”
“I’m wearing a pink shirt.”
“I love you, too,” she said, because that seemed like the most important thing to get out there. “And I want to marry you. For real.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“Emma pulled open the door in what was probably a sorry excuse for a smile on her face and froze.
Sean stood on the porch, his face set in the expression she recognized as the one he used to mask uncertainty. But her gaze only settled on his face for a few seconds before being drawn to his chest.
He was wearing a button-up dress shirt and it was pink. And not a tint of pale blush, either. It was pink.
“Hey,” he said, handing her a small bouquet of pink-and-white gladioli, the stems tied together with a length of pink ribbon.
Her breath caught in her throat as she took them, her mind racing to make sense of what she was seeing. What did it mean? Why was he here, dressed like the man of her ten-year-old self’s dreams?
“I, uh…made some revisions to your owner’s manual.” She hadn’t even noticed the journal in his other hand, but when he held it out, she took it.
“Okay.” Her voice was as shaky as her hands.
She opened the cover and found a bright pink sticky note stuck to the first page. I miss you.
“I miss you too,” she whispered, and slowly turned the pages.
You don’t take any crap from me.
You make me laugh.
Missionary is my favorite position now because I can see your face. That made her laugh, even as the sweetness of the sentiment warmed her heart.
I’ll let you drive. She gave him a doubtful look and then turned the page. Sometimes.
Yeah, there was the Sean she knew and loved.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“What’s got you looking like something a dog dug up in the backyard?”
Since she was wearing her apron with the ever-present wooden mixing spoon in her pocket, he swallowed the smart-ass retort that came to mind. “Not sleeping, I guess. After being in the middle of nowhere for the last month, being over in the bar in the middle of the city’s taking some getting used to.”
She whacked him in the back of the head with that damn wooden spoon and he rubbed the spot. That might actually leave a knot. “Ow!”
“You look at me, Sean Michael Kowalski.” He looked in the general vicinity of her face, and she took his chin in her hand and jerked his head up. “You look me in the eye, young man, and don’t you dare lie to me. Do you love Emma?”
“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.
She released his face and he rubbed his jaw. “Well, that’s a start. And I’m going to guess you didn’t tell her that before you packed your stuff and moved out.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. Other that not getting any sympathy.”
“If you’re looking for sympathy—”
“I know. It’s between shit and syphilis in the dictionary.” So they’d all heard. Many times. “The brownies are good, though.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“Sean put fifty miles on his truck cruising around town, waiting for his aunt and uncle’s driveway to be free of miscellaneous vehicles, before he finally pulled in and killed the engine.
He had soft and hazy memories of feeling sick or scared or tired and crawling into his mother’s lap. She’d hold him and rub his back until all was well in his world again. He needed that now. But he wasn’t a little boy anymore and his mom was gone. He had his aunt, though, and maybe if he looked pathetic enough, she’d wrap her arms around him and give him a good hug.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“You’re worrying already and you’re not even on the plane yet.”
“Maybe you should get a fake dog.”
Emma laughed and wrapped her arms around Gram.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“It’s not working,” Mary said quietly, and Cat had to reluctantly admit she was right.
Sean and Emma couldn’t have had more distance between them if they were in different counties. Cat and Mary were smooshed together in front of the kitchen sink, watching the party through the window. Sean on one end of the yard, Emma on the other.
“Why are they being so stubborn?”
Mary snorted. “He’s a Kowalski. I’m not sure what Emma’s excuse is.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“Emma?” It wasn’t until she heard Lisa’s voice that she realized she was standing in the pantry holding a spatula and crying. “Emma, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she tried to say, but it got all caught up in a sob and didn’t come out right.
Lisa took the spatula out of her hand and tossed it on the table before pushing her toward the stairs.
“The burgers—”
“They’ll find the spatula,” Lisa said firmly. She pushed Emma up the stairs and down the hall to her room.
It hurt so much to look at the bed. The tears ran freely down her face and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop them. “I fell in love with him.”
“Oh. Oh, shit.” Lisa shook her head. “Kowalski men do that. They show up in your life and drive you so insane you want to slap them upside the head and then—bam—all of a sudden you can’t live without them.”
“That’s pretty much what happened.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“Rather than go back through the house, Emma walked around the outside, her feet silent in the grass. And when she turned the corner, her heart did a painful somersault in her chest.
Sean was in one of the rocking chairs, the baby cradled in his arms as he gently rocked. His head was tipped back and his eyes were closed, but it was his mouth that drew her attention.
He was almost smiling. Not quite, but enough to give him a peaceful and contended look that made her ache. They could have had this. They could have had a baby he would rock on the porch on midsummer evenings. She could have had a man like Sean.
Instead, she’d had a performance.
“I told you what happens when you stare at people,” he said in a quiet voice without opening his eyes.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“He’d just retrieved the stash of condoms from the bedside drawer and tossed them in the duffel because he’d be damned if he’d facilitate her sleeping with some other guy in the future, when Emma walked in.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“They really are good together, though I’m not sure they see it.” She chuckled. “Leave it to my granddaughter to accidently choose Mr. Right to be her fake fiancé.”
― Shannon Stacey , Yours to Keep

“I needed to grab another box of screws, but, when I got to the truck, I realized I’d left my wallet in my tool bucket. When I went back ground the house to get it, she had my plans open and was double-checking all my measurements.”
Emma’s cheeks burned when Gram laughed at Sean’s story, but, since she couldn’t deny it, she stuck her last bite of the fabulous steak he’d grilled into her mouth.
“That’s my Emma,” Gram said. “I think her first words were ‘If you want something done right, do it yourself.’”
“In my defense,” she said when she’d swallowed, pointing her fork at Sean for emphasis, “my name is on the truck, and being able to pound nails doesn’t make you a builder. I have a responsibility to my clients to make sure they get quality work.”
“I do quality work.”
“I know you build a quality deck, but stairs are tricky.” She smiled sweetly at him. “I had to double-check.”
“It’s all done but the seating now and it’s good work, even though I practically had to duct tape you to a tree in order to work in peace.”
She might have taken offense at his words if not for the fact he was playing footsie with her under the table. And when he nudged her foot to get her to look at him, he winked in that way that—along with the grin—made it almost impossible for her to be mad at him.
“It’s Sean’s turn to wash tonight. Emma, you dry and I’ll put away.”
“I’ll wash, Gram. Sean can dry.”
“I can wash,” Sean told her. “The world won’t come to an end if I wash the silverware before the cups.”
“It makes me twitch.”
“I know it does. That’s why I do it.” He leaned over and kissed her before she could protest.
“That new undercover-cop show I like is on tonight,” Gram said as they cleared the table. “Maybe Sean won’t snort his way through this episode.”
He laughed and started filling the sink with hot, soapy water. “I’m sorry, but if he keeps shoving his gun in his waistband like that, he’s going to shoot his…he’s going to shoot himself in a place men don’t want to be shot.”
Emma watched him dump the plates and silverware into the water—while three coffee mugs sat on the counter waiting to be washed—but forced herself to ignore it. “Can’t be worse than the movie the other night.”
“That was just stupid,” Sean said while Gram laughed.
They’d tried to watch a military-action movie and by the time they were fifteen minutes in, she thought they were going to have to medicate Sean if they wanted to see the end. After a particularly heated lecture about what helicopters could and couldn’t do, Emma had hushed him, but he’d still snorted so often in derision she was surprised he hadn’t done permanent damage to his sinuses.
“I don’t want you to think that’s real life,” he told them.
“I promise,” Gram said, “if I ever want to use a tank to break somebody out of a federal prison, I’ll ask you how to do it correctly first.”
Sean kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, Cat. At least you appreciate me, unlike Emma, who just tells me to shut up.”
“I’d appreciate you more if there wasn’t salad dressing floating in the dishwater you’re about to wash my coffee cup in.”
“According to the official guy’s handbook, if I keep doing it wrong, you’re supposed to let me watch SportsCenter while you do it yourself.”
“Did the official guy’s handbook also tell you that if that happens, you’ll also be free to watch the late-night sports show while I do other things myself?”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“And if you let me drive home, I’ll give you a massage later.”
Back to sex, which was a pretty solid way of reminding him exactly where their non-relationship stood. He could live with sex. Shaking off the mushy-feelings stuff, he smiled and hooked his fingers in her front pockets. “How about I drive and I give you a massage later?”
“You’re not going to let me drive, are you?”
“I have the magic penis, so I get the keys, remember?”
She laughed and tried to shove him away. “You’re a penis, all right. A big walking, talking penis.”
He kissed her again, this time until she surrendered and wrapped her arms around his neck. There were only a few more days of kissing her in his future, so he intended to make it a priority.
“Okay,” she whispered when he was done. “You can drive. But I get to pick exactly what part of me you’re massaging.”
“I can live with that.” He slapped her on the butt when she climbed into the truck, and then laughed as he walked around to the driver’s side and caught her flipping him off through the window.
He’d make her pay for that later.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“Please tell me we don’t have to go all the way upstairs for a condom,” she said.
“Back pocket.” She leaned with him as he fished it out, then tried to help him get his jeans down over his hips. Her foot hit the coffee table, which snagged on the throw rug and sent the Scrabble tiles sliding all over the board.
She laughed as he tore open the condom packet. “Now nobody wins.”
“I was ahead.” He put one hand on her hip, using the other to guide himself into her. “So I win.”
Emma moaned as he filled her, bracing herself against the couch with a hand on either side of his head. “The game wasn’t over. It’s a draw.”
He pulled down on her hips as he drove up into her, making her gasp. “Ties are for pussies. Admit I won.”
She looked down into his blue eyes, crinkled with amusement as he grinned at her. God, she loved…having sex with this man. “One good word isn’t a victory.”
“That’s not what the score sheet said.” He stopped moving, and when she tried to rock against him, he held down on her hips so she couldn’t move, either. Then he had the nerve to chuckle at her growl of sexual frustration. “Admit it. I can sit here all night.”
“Oh, really?” She went straight for a known weak spot—nipping at his earlobe before sucking it into her mouth.
He let go of her hips with one hand, intending to push her mouth away, but she rocked her hips. He groaned and put his hand back. She breathed softly against his ear and then ran her tongue along the outside.
“Admit I was going to win,” she whispered, “because I can do this all night.”
With one leg, he kicked at the table, sending it over and the letter tiles flying. Before Emma could react, she was on her back on the throw rug with Sean between her legs and her hands held over her head.
“I don’t lose.” He crossed her wrists so he could hold them with one hand, then used the other to pull her leg up over his hip so he was totally buried in her. “Give up?”
She shook her head, but couldn’t hold back the sigh as he oh, so slowly withdrew almost completely and then just as slowly filled her again. “You’re cheating.”
He did it again and again, the slow friction delicious and frustrating, until they were both trembling and on the edge.
Then, as he was pulling out of her once again with a self-control that made her want to scream, it became a matter of life or death, because she was going to die if she didn’t get what her body was looking for. “Okay, fine. You win.”
He drove into her hard, his fingers biting into her wrists before he released them so he could lift her legs to her shoulder. She cried his name as his fingers dug into her hips and he gave them what they both wanted.
When he collapsed on top of her, breathing hard against her neck, she wrapped her legs and arms around him, holding him close.
“Another one for the win column,” he said once they’d caught their breath.
“It has an asterisk, though, because you totally cheated.”
“All’s fair in sex and Scrabble, baby.” He propped his head on his hand and smiled down at her. “What should we play next?”
“I’ve still got clothes on. You’ve still got clothes on. Maybe we should break out a deck of cards.”
“You’re my kinda girl, Emma Shaw,” he said, and thankfully, he was in the process of getting up off the floor, because she didn’t think she did a good job of hiding how happy those words made her.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“They’re taking turns calling me to see if anybody’s won the bet yet.”
And he wouldn’t tell them because somebody might tell the women and he didn’t want them getting ideas. She was about to tell him it was lame to avoid his siblings over a stupid bet, when he laid down his tiles, adding a Q, U, A and an R on a triple-word-score space before the T she’d put down, and then a Z on the end. “You did not just use a Q and a Z on a triple-word score.”
“I think that puts me in the lead.” He grinned and picked up the pencil and paper. “Never count a Kowalski out. We don’t like to lose.”
“Obviously I’m not hot enough. Maybe I should have put on some mascara.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her close. “You don’t need shit on your face to be hot.”
“Just a dirt smudge here and there?”
He laughed and leaned forward to kiss her. She wanted more and threw her leg over his so she was straddling his lap. He moaned against her mouth, his hands going to her hips as she put her hands on his bare chest and pushed him back against the couch.
“Now I know you’re trying to distract me,” he muttered against her lips.
“I don’t like to lose, either.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“You’re not very good at this,” Emma said, laughing at the frustration on Sean’s face.
He pulled his hand out from under the back of her T-shirt. “You’re distracting me.”
“How am I distracting you?” She shook the bag at Sean, reminding him to pull two letter tiles to replace the C and the T he’d used to make CAT.
“You look totally hot. And you did it on purpose so I wouldn’t be able to concentrate and you’d win.”
Emma laughed. Sure, she’d thrown on baggy flannel boxers and an old Red Sox T-shirt after her shower just to seduce him out of triple-word scores. “You not having a shirt on is distracting. And you keep pretending you want to rub my back so you can peek at my tile rack.”
“Nothing wrong with checking out your rack.” He craned his neck to see better and she shoved him away. It wasn’t easy playing Scrabble sitting side by side on the couch, but after a long workday, neither was willing to take the floor.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“We’ll take care of the cooking, Gram, so you can relax.” When he and Cat both looked at her, Emma blushed. “Okay, fine. Sean will take care of the grilling so you can relax.”
“I was counting on it. And, Sean, why don’t you sit down and help us settle on a wedding date.”
“I told Emma to tell me when to be there and I’d be there.”
“Nonsense. Sit down.”
He’d rather be dipped in barbecue sauce and dropped in the desert, but he sat. One more week and it would be over.
Then he wouldn’t have to think about Emma anymore. Not think about marrying her or having babies with her or holding her in his arms at night. He’d be gone and she’d be some funny story his brothers brought up sitting around the fire knocking back beer.
“Really, Sean, are you okay?” Cat asked him, putting her hand on his arm.
He realized he’d been rubbing his chest, and he forced himself to lean forward and prop his arms on the table so he wouldn’t do it again. “I’m fine. Let’s pick a date.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“There was, however, a sticky note on the mirror.
Gassy? Payback’s a bitch, honey.
She laughed and dropped the note into the bottom drawer with the others she’d collected. They amused her too much to throw away and sometimes she’d pull one out and reread it. But that made her feel like some kind of lovesick teenager, so she closed the door and continued the search.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“I was thinking omelets today. Maybe broccoli and cheese?”
Sean’s head slumped over his coffee cup and Emma knew she had to say something…without telling her grandmother she’d fed her own fiancé a food he hated her first night home. “Um…how about mushrooms instead?”
Gram rummaged in the fridge. “I don’t see any mushrooms. We still have broccoli, though.”
“Sean only eats broccoli once in a while, like for special occasions,” Emma said in a rush. “He loves it, but it…it makes him gassy.”
Since Gram still had her head over the crisper door, Sean was free to give her a what-the-hell look and she gave him an apologetic smile. After three weeks of living a lie—or two different lies—she should have been better at thinking on her feet.
“We can’t have that,” Gram said. “”We still have some leftover ham. How do ham-and-cheese omelets sound?”
“That sounds wonderful,” Sean said, still glaring at Emma.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“She opened her eyes and then frowned. “Why are you dressed?”
“Because I got up and got dressed so I could find some coffee, but I changed my mind and I’m coming back to bed.”
“Fully dressed?”
“Yes. No shoes, though.”
It was too early to follow along with his crazy bouncing ball of logic. “Did Gram put a pot of coffee on yet?”
He groaned and threw his arm over his eyes. “Not exactly.”
“What is wrong with you this morning?”
“I just ran into your grandmother. She was sneaking into the house…in the same dress she wore last night.”
“What?” Emma sat up, aches and pains forgotten. “You caught Gram doing the walk of shame?”
“Yes, and it was awkward and now I’m going back to bed.”
She pushed his arm off his face. “What did she say?”
“She said good-morning and told me she was going to take a quick shower and then start breakfast.”
“And what did you say?”
“I muttered something about taking her time and then ran like a girl.”
Emma flopped back onto her pillow and stare at the ceiling. “Wow.”
“I probably should have broken it to you better, but I’m not sure how I could have.”
She didn’t know what to say. Go, Gram, a part of her was thinking, but another part wanted to hide under the covers with Sean and not deal with the fact her grandmother was currently taking a shower after doing the walk of shame. That was obviously the side of himself Sean was currently listening to.
“We have to go down eventually,” she said. “I need coffee. And food.”
“I’ll wait here. Bring some back.”
She laughed and slapped his thigh. “If I can face her, so can you. She’s not your grandmother.”
“It was awkward.”
“I’m sure it’s awkward for her, knowing we’re having sex, but she’s an adult about it.”
That just made him cover his face with his arm again. “That’s different.”
“Why? Because she’s sixty-five?”
“No. Because, as you just said, she’s a grandmother. Your grandmother.”
“Come on. We’ll go down together.” She slid out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. “Stop making it such a big deal.”
Gram was still in the shower when they went past the bathroom on their way down the hall. They could tell because she was whistling a very cheery tune that made Sean wince.
Emma grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the stairs. “Coffee.”
They got a pot going and sat at the table in silence until enough had brewed to sneak two cups from it. Emma put the kettle on and dropped a tea bag into Gram’s mug.
The woman of the hour appeared just as it whistled, looking refreshed and cheerful. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” they both mumbled.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“You took a good whack to the thigh,” he pointed out while she filled a couple of frosted mugs with water.
She twisted around so she could see the bruises. “Yeah. It’s a little tender to the touch but nothing major.”
“You should let me check the rest of you over.” She gave him a cold glass of water and an arched eyebrow.
“For bruises, I mean, though you do look sexy as hell with a dirty face, wearing nothing but a T-shirt.”
Putting a hand on her hip, which drew the hem of her T-shirt up a tantalizing half-inch, she scowled at him. “When I made you my fake fiancé, I had no idea you had this weird dirty-face fetish.”
“I didn’t have it before I became your fake fiancé.” He took a long drink of water. “And it’s not a fetish. I told you, it turns me on that you work hard and you play hard. The dirt’s just a visual representation of that, I guess.”
“That’s very deep of you.”
“Plus, it means you’ll be showering soon and I like you all soaped up and slippery, too.”
A slow flush burned up her neck. “Dirty. Clean. Doesn’t matter to you, does it?”
He was going to tell her no, it didn’t matter—that he’d take her any way he could get her—but he kept his mouth shut. It was true, of course, but nothing good would come of her knowing that. She didn’t need to know that sometimes when they were curled up on the couch watching television or arguing about white versus wheat bread at the store, he would sometimes forget they were pretending to be a couple.
And she really didn’t need to know it sometimes bummed him out when he remembered.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

“We’ve got the house all to ourselves. Maybe after I run that hot bubble bath for you, I’ll help you wash your back.”
“As filthy as I am, I’m going to have to make do with the shower or I’ll leave two inches of mud in the bottom of the tub.”
“We should conserve water and shower together,” he said as he followed her into the house.
“Gee, I couldn’t do that. I’m a nice girl, remember?”
He groaned and bent forward to untie his filthy boots. “There was nothing in your owner’s manual warning about your unnaturally good lip-reading ability.”
“But then I wouldn’t know you think I’m a nice girl, but…”
He wasn’t even sure what he was in trouble for. “I was trying to make him see the difference between him and his wife, and you and me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Relax,” she said with an impish gleam in her eyes. “I swear, it’s so easy to push your buttons.”
“You have a really twisted sense of humor.”
But he forgave her when she unzipped her jeans and wriggled out of them right there in the hall. She probably didn’t want to track trail dust all through the house, so he’d do the same. But he’d watch her first, since he wasn’t one to pass up a striptease by a beautiful woman.”
― Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep