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Trust Quotes
Trust
by
Jana Aston18,008 ratings, 4.14 average rating, 1,681 reviews
Trust Quotes
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“But Chloe loves it, and I love her so I’m willing to do what it takes to spend the day with her.”
― Trust
― Trust
“The table is silent again while we mull that over. Then Sophie reminds us that she dated a gay guy for two years.
“Dating sucks,” I conclude.
“I got kicked out a guy’s apartment once,” Everly offers as her contribution to dating horror stories.
“You broke into his apartment, Everly. You stole his key and broke in. You’re his dating horror story, not the other way around,” I remind her while Sophie and Sandra laugh.
“Minor detail, Chloe.”
― Trust
“Dating sucks,” I conclude.
“I got kicked out a guy’s apartment once,” Everly offers as her contribution to dating horror stories.
“You broke into his apartment, Everly. You stole his key and broke in. You’re his dating horror story, not the other way around,” I remind her while Sophie and Sandra laugh.
“Minor detail, Chloe.”
― Trust
“Wait.
Is he mad at me? Oh, heck, no.
Because I’m mad at him.
And really, is there anything more annoying than someone who’s mad at you when you’re the one who’s supposed to be mad? No. No, there is not.”
― Trust
Is he mad at me? Oh, heck, no.
Because I’m mad at him.
And really, is there anything more annoying than someone who’s mad at you when you’re the one who’s supposed to be mad? No. No, there is not.”
― Trust
“Yeah. All that is called dating.” She waves a finger in the air. “You’re dating Boyd.”
I think I’m going to throw up.
“You might even be engaged,” Everly continues. “For all you know... Hey, are you pregnant by any chance? Remember how Sophie didn’t know she was pregnant? That might be a thing you can add to your collection of things you don’t know are happening.” Her eyes light up and she places a hand on her chest. “Can I be the godmother?”
“I’m not pregnant.” But I do feel sick.”
― Trust
I think I’m going to throw up.
“You might even be engaged,” Everly continues. “For all you know... Hey, are you pregnant by any chance? Remember how Sophie didn’t know she was pregnant? That might be a thing you can add to your collection of things you don’t know are happening.” Her eyes light up and she places a hand on her chest. “Can I be the godmother?”
“I’m not pregnant.” But I do feel sick.”
― Trust
“We were laughing and then we were kissing and then my slutty leg went rogue and now we’re having pizza.”
― Trust
― Trust
“It’s not that I haven’t tried. I have. It’s just that I’m super awkward. Plus dating is hard.”
― Trust
― Trust
“Was it as scary for you as it is for me? Falling for Sawyer?”
“Not really, no.” She shakes her head. “I’m sure I had some of the same worries, everyone does. But I’m a leaper. You’re a thinker. We process things differently.”
“You didn’t have a panic attack and run away?” I ask sarcastically.
“No,” she muses. “Not even that time he refused to have sex with me.”
“That was your first date, Everly. And you did have sex,” I remind her. I know, because I heard about it for a week.
“Whew.” She blows out a breath. “It was a tough few hours though. How is Boyd’s POD by the way? Can we talk about that?” She leans forward on the couch, looking at me expectantly.
“Um, no. I don’t think so.”
She shrugs good-naturedly then changes the subject back to me. “Chloe, why didn’t you tell me you were struggling with your anxiety? You know I’m never too busy for you, no matter how many husbands or children I have.”
“You have one husband, babe,” Sawyer says, walking into the room at that moment.
“You’re still the one, baby.”
“We’ve been married for three months, Everly. I sure as hell better still be the one.”
“Sawyer,” she sighs. “I was trying to have a moment, okay? Work with me.”
“Next time, try waiting more than a day after downloading Shania Twain’s greatest hits to your iPod. You do realize the receipts come to my email, don’t you?”
“Um.” Everly looks away and scrunches her nose. “No?”
“You’ve been on quite the 90’s love ballads kick this week. Which is weird, because you’re not old enough to have owned the CD’s those songs were originally released on.” He looks at her with amused interest.
“What’s a CD?” She blinks at Sawyer dramatically.
“Cute. Keep it up.”
“Nineties music is all the rage with the millennials,” she tells him with a shrug. “I saw a blog post about it.”
“Don’t worry, sweets. We’ll beat the odds together.” He winks and she scowls. “You’re still the only one I dream of,” he calls as he walks into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water.
“See! I don’t even care that you lifted that from a song. It still gave me all the feels!”
― Trust
“Not really, no.” She shakes her head. “I’m sure I had some of the same worries, everyone does. But I’m a leaper. You’re a thinker. We process things differently.”
“You didn’t have a panic attack and run away?” I ask sarcastically.
“No,” she muses. “Not even that time he refused to have sex with me.”
“That was your first date, Everly. And you did have sex,” I remind her. I know, because I heard about it for a week.
“Whew.” She blows out a breath. “It was a tough few hours though. How is Boyd’s POD by the way? Can we talk about that?” She leans forward on the couch, looking at me expectantly.
“Um, no. I don’t think so.”
She shrugs good-naturedly then changes the subject back to me. “Chloe, why didn’t you tell me you were struggling with your anxiety? You know I’m never too busy for you, no matter how many husbands or children I have.”
“You have one husband, babe,” Sawyer says, walking into the room at that moment.
“You’re still the one, baby.”
“We’ve been married for three months, Everly. I sure as hell better still be the one.”
“Sawyer,” she sighs. “I was trying to have a moment, okay? Work with me.”
“Next time, try waiting more than a day after downloading Shania Twain’s greatest hits to your iPod. You do realize the receipts come to my email, don’t you?”
“Um.” Everly looks away and scrunches her nose. “No?”
“You’ve been on quite the 90’s love ballads kick this week. Which is weird, because you’re not old enough to have owned the CD’s those songs were originally released on.” He looks at her with amused interest.
“What’s a CD?” She blinks at Sawyer dramatically.
“Cute. Keep it up.”
“Nineties music is all the rage with the millennials,” she tells him with a shrug. “I saw a blog post about it.”
“Don’t worry, sweets. We’ll beat the odds together.” He winks and she scowls. “You’re still the only one I dream of,” he calls as he walks into the kitchen and grabs a bottle of water.
“See! I don’t even care that you lifted that from a song. It still gave me all the feels!”
― Trust
“We should break up,” she says. “I’m a disaster. I’ll fuck everything up. I always fuck it up.” Her voice is distressed and she looks like she’s on her way to hyperventilating. “And you’ll leave. Everyone leaves. And I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You can’t break up with me. We’re not dating,” I reply calmly and cross over to her, taking her hand so she’ll stop twisting the hell out of her hair.
“Oh.” She exhales in an audible puff as she tilts her head back to look at me. She swallows. “I can’t?”
“Nope.”
“Then what are we doing? Why are you so nice to me? You’re always so freaking nice to me, Boyd. And attentive. And good in bed. And—”
“We’re just Chloe-and-Boyding.” I cut her off before she gets any more worked up.
“Chloe-and-Boyding?”
“Yes,” I say then brush my lips along the shell of her ear. “Trust me, Chloe.” I give her a gentle push back, because I’m not above distracting her with sex. Not one bit. I lie on the bed beside her and pull her to me. “And you can’t go when there are so many fucks I haven’t given you yet, Chloe. I’d like to give you all the fucks.”
“All the fucks?” The tension eases from her body and her eyes flare, but in excitement instead of panic.
“All of them. The bossy fuck.” I slip my hand under the hem of her shirt and lift it up and over her head. “The rough fuck.” She lifts her hips as I grip the waistband of her leggings and tug. “The shower fuck.” She sucks in a breath at that and swallows. “So many fucks, Chloe.” I brush my lips against her ear. “The dirty talk fuck. The ass play fuck,” I whisper. “Do you want to miss any of those?”
“No.” She shakes her head and flexes her hips against me, already looking to move this forward. “I want all the fucks.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page. Take off your bra.”
― Trust
“You can’t break up with me. We’re not dating,” I reply calmly and cross over to her, taking her hand so she’ll stop twisting the hell out of her hair.
“Oh.” She exhales in an audible puff as she tilts her head back to look at me. She swallows. “I can’t?”
“Nope.”
“Then what are we doing? Why are you so nice to me? You’re always so freaking nice to me, Boyd. And attentive. And good in bed. And—”
“We’re just Chloe-and-Boyding.” I cut her off before she gets any more worked up.
“Chloe-and-Boyding?”
“Yes,” I say then brush my lips along the shell of her ear. “Trust me, Chloe.” I give her a gentle push back, because I’m not above distracting her with sex. Not one bit. I lie on the bed beside her and pull her to me. “And you can’t go when there are so many fucks I haven’t given you yet, Chloe. I’d like to give you all the fucks.”
“All the fucks?” The tension eases from her body and her eyes flare, but in excitement instead of panic.
“All of them. The bossy fuck.” I slip my hand under the hem of her shirt and lift it up and over her head. “The rough fuck.” She lifts her hips as I grip the waistband of her leggings and tug. “The shower fuck.” She sucks in a breath at that and swallows. “So many fucks, Chloe.” I brush my lips against her ear. “The dirty talk fuck. The ass play fuck,” I whisper. “Do you want to miss any of those?”
“No.” She shakes her head and flexes her hips against me, already looking to move this forward. “I want all the fucks.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page. Take off your bra.”
― Trust
“We’re turning onto Frontage Road headed into Vail Village when she tells me she met someone.
“What’s that?” I ask, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.
She nods and pulls out her phone. “On Facebook. I don’t know why I’m bothering with dating sites when there are guys like this available.” She waves the phone.
Fuck that. I’m available.
“I don’t think you’re ready yet,” I snap. “We’re still practicing your dating skills, remember?”
“Oh.” She frowns. “Are we exclusively practicing? I didn’t know. I thought this guy would be good practice.”
I make a mental note to hack her and alter all the incoming messages from men. Why the hell didn’t I do this the day I met her? When she told me about men sending her photos of their dicks?”
― Trust
“What’s that?” I ask, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.
She nods and pulls out her phone. “On Facebook. I don’t know why I’m bothering with dating sites when there are guys like this available.” She waves the phone.
Fuck that. I’m available.
“I don’t think you’re ready yet,” I snap. “We’re still practicing your dating skills, remember?”
“Oh.” She frowns. “Are we exclusively practicing? I didn’t know. I thought this guy would be good practice.”
I make a mental note to hack her and alter all the incoming messages from men. Why the hell didn’t I do this the day I met her? When she told me about men sending her photos of their dicks?”
― Trust
“Oh, a Container Store,” I gush upon seeing the organizational store.
“Does that get you all hot and bothered, Chloe? Did you want to stop?”
“Shut up,” I say as we cross the street. “Maybe later.”
― Trust
“Does that get you all hot and bothered, Chloe? Did you want to stop?”
“Shut up,” I say as we cross the street. “Maybe later.”
― Trust
“So can I ask you a question?” She wraps a strand of hair around her finger and examines the end of it before dropping it to look at me.
“Sure.” I pass a slow-moving BMW and get comfortable, glancing at her to continue.
“Does the FBI monitor Google searches? Like, um, randomly? For normal people?”
“Normal people?”
“Non-criminal people.”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“It’s a real question!”
“But why are you asking it?”
“Because I Google some weird shit,” she says, blowing out a breath and shaking her head. “I keep expecting someone to show up on my doorstep and ask what the heck I’m doing, but I’m just a really curious person and all the answers are right there, you know? Just click, click and there’s your answer.”
“I think you’ll be okay,” I assure her.”
― Trust
“Sure.” I pass a slow-moving BMW and get comfortable, glancing at her to continue.
“Does the FBI monitor Google searches? Like, um, randomly? For normal people?”
“Normal people?”
“Non-criminal people.”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“It’s a real question!”
“But why are you asking it?”
“Because I Google some weird shit,” she says, blowing out a breath and shaking her head. “I keep expecting someone to show up on my doorstep and ask what the heck I’m doing, but I’m just a really curious person and all the answers are right there, you know? Just click, click and there’s your answer.”
“I think you’ll be okay,” I assure her.”
― Trust
“I tried Sophie first, who incidentally would like to set us up.” The corner of his lip curves. “Then she called Everly and found out you were on your way down so I swung over here instead.”
“Wow. You must really like me.” I can’t keep the smile from pulling at my cheek.
“Why’s that?”
“Now you’re gonna have to live with Everly having your phone number.”
“I figured I’d have to change it.”
― Trust
“Wow. You must really like me.” I can’t keep the smile from pulling at my cheek.
“Why’s that?”
“Now you’re gonna have to live with Everly having your phone number.”
“I figured I’d have to change it.”
― Trust
“So that’s how we end up with an entire box of used house numbers spread around on the ground while we inspect the available options of fours, twos and zeros until we both have the mismatched set we like best. And fine, I’m starting to see the appeal of other people’s used shit. Because this is fun.”
― Trust
― Trust
“I guess she’s about a month old now, isn’t she?” I calculate as Sophie sets our beverages down and sits next to me at the table.
“Yeah,” she says. But her tone implies something else and the skin between her eyebrows wrinkles in the slightest way. “Almost a month,” she amends in a rush. “In two days. She’s twenty-eight days old now.” Then she blows out a long breath and shakes her head before meeting my eyes. “I’m one of those moms, Boyd. I promised myself that I wasn’t going to be. But I’m clearly on a path there. I’m that mom who’s going to tell you her kid is forty-nine months old when all you wanted to hear is that she’s four.” She shakes her head again and rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “It’s so embarrassing.”
― Trust
“Yeah,” she says. But her tone implies something else and the skin between her eyebrows wrinkles in the slightest way. “Almost a month,” she amends in a rush. “In two days. She’s twenty-eight days old now.” Then she blows out a long breath and shakes her head before meeting my eyes. “I’m one of those moms, Boyd. I promised myself that I wasn’t going to be. But I’m clearly on a path there. I’m that mom who’s going to tell you her kid is forty-nine months old when all you wanted to hear is that she’s four.” She shakes her head again and rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “It’s so embarrassing.”
― Trust
“I text her from the lobby and tell her I’m on my way up. Having a badge is a really convenient way to get past building security. Not that this place has much.
She’s standing in the open doorway of her apartment when I get off the elevator, hand on her hip with her head cocked to the side in question. “I brought donuts,” I offer by way of explanation for showing up unannounced.
“Did you need a favor or something?” she asks, taking the box from my hands and setting it on the tiny round dining table just inside the door of her apartment. Not a promising start, but she does allow me to follow her inside.
“I just brought you a favor,” I comment then eye her. “Do you own any pants?” She’s wearing another pair of those godforsaken leggings.
“What are you talking about? I’m wearing pants right now. And how does this count as a favor when I didn’t ask for it? It shouldn’t count towards my favor tally if I didn’t make the official request.” She pops open the donut box and peeks inside. “You’re like the worst genie ever.”
“I know. But your favors are piling up. I gotta work them off. And those aren’t pants.”
“Leggings are pants. They’re very popular.”
“What the hell is even on them?” I step closer and eye her ass, focusing on the print. Purely for research purposes. “Are those black cats?”
“They’re my seasonal leggings!” she retorts and selects a donut as I walk past her into the tiny aisle of a kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee.
“Oh. Did you want something to drink? Let me get that for you,” she says sarcastically before biting into a donut.
I ignore her tone. “No, no. I’ve got it, thank you.” I take the mug and pass by her, taking a seat on her couch”
― Trust
She’s standing in the open doorway of her apartment when I get off the elevator, hand on her hip with her head cocked to the side in question. “I brought donuts,” I offer by way of explanation for showing up unannounced.
“Did you need a favor or something?” she asks, taking the box from my hands and setting it on the tiny round dining table just inside the door of her apartment. Not a promising start, but she does allow me to follow her inside.
“I just brought you a favor,” I comment then eye her. “Do you own any pants?” She’s wearing another pair of those godforsaken leggings.
“What are you talking about? I’m wearing pants right now. And how does this count as a favor when I didn’t ask for it? It shouldn’t count towards my favor tally if I didn’t make the official request.” She pops open the donut box and peeks inside. “You’re like the worst genie ever.”
“I know. But your favors are piling up. I gotta work them off. And those aren’t pants.”
“Leggings are pants. They’re very popular.”
“What the hell is even on them?” I step closer and eye her ass, focusing on the print. Purely for research purposes. “Are those black cats?”
“They’re my seasonal leggings!” she retorts and selects a donut as I walk past her into the tiny aisle of a kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee.
“Oh. Did you want something to drink? Let me get that for you,” she says sarcastically before biting into a donut.
I ignore her tone. “No, no. I’ve got it, thank you.” I take the mug and pass by her, taking a seat on her couch”
― Trust
“Thanks for helping me get the bookcase home,” I offer as we walk. I’m not sure why we’re still together. Why he wanted to have lunch, offered to let me do his laundry at his place.
“No problem. Gotta work off those favors I owe you, right?”
Favors? “How many favors do you owe me?”
“Two.”
“Two?”
“Yeah. It was three, but I paid one off with the bookcase. So two.”
“When did we decide you owed me three favors?” This guy totally does math like a government employee.
“Didn’t we?” He looks totally nonplussed with his bad accounting of favors. “We’re here.”
― Trust
“No problem. Gotta work off those favors I owe you, right?”
Favors? “How many favors do you owe me?”
“Two.”
“Two?”
“Yeah. It was three, but I paid one off with the bookcase. So two.”
“When did we decide you owed me three favors?” This guy totally does math like a government employee.
“Didn’t we?” He looks totally nonplussed with his bad accounting of favors. “We’re here.”
― Trust
“We have to stop and get lift tickets and sign a release today. Yesterday it was pre-arranged as part of the wedding. I grab a form and dash off a signature then turn towards the counter to pay when I realize Chloe is still reading the form. Line by line. She catches me staring at her and glances at my form.
“You already signed it? Without reading it?” She’s appalled. “This is a legal document, Boyd,” she says, jabbing a finger onto the paper in front of her.
“It’s just a slide, Chloe. Not a death trap.”
She glares at me and then goes back to carefully reading the form while I watch, amused as hell. Finally she frowns and, with a tiny shake of her head and a small sigh, signs the form.
“Are you satisfied now, safety girl? Are you fully prepared for the slide of death?”
“At least one of us is,” she retorts”
― Trust
“You already signed it? Without reading it?” She’s appalled. “This is a legal document, Boyd,” she says, jabbing a finger onto the paper in front of her.
“It’s just a slide, Chloe. Not a death trap.”
She glares at me and then goes back to carefully reading the form while I watch, amused as hell. Finally she frowns and, with a tiny shake of her head and a small sigh, signs the form.
“Are you satisfied now, safety girl? Are you fully prepared for the slide of death?”
“At least one of us is,” she retorts”
― Trust
“Go away.” I stick my elbow in his ribs and force him to step back. “Sit on the couch and keep your hands to yourself,” I instruct, then follow him to the sofa and grab my Dating and Sex for Dummies books off the coffee table and shove them into my sock drawer while he laughs. “You’re making me miss my show,” I gripe as I toss things into the suitcase.
“Your show? You sound like you’re eighty.” He glances at the TV behind me then back to me. “Murder on Mason Lane,” he says. “It was the neighbor. She was committing Medicare fraud using the victim’s deceased wife’s information. He caught on so she killed him.”
I gasp. “You spoiler! You spoiling spoiler who spoils!” Then I shrug. “This is a new episode. You don’t even know that. It’s the daughter. She killed him. I’ve had her pegged since the first commercial break.”
“You’re cute.”
“Just you wait,” I tell him, very satisfied with myself. I’m really good at guessing whodunnit.
“Sorry, you murder nerd, I worked on this case two years ago. It’s the neighbor.”
“Really?” I drop my makeup bag into the suitcase and check to see if he’s teasing me.
“I swear. I’ll tell you all the good shit the show left out once we’re on the plane.”
I survey Boyd with interest. I do have a lot of questions. “I thought you were in cyber crimes, not murder.”
“Murder isn’t a department,” he replies, shaking his head at me.
“You know what I mean.”
“Most crimes have a cyber component to them these days. There’s always a cyber trail.”
Shit, that’s hot.”
― Trust
“Your show? You sound like you’re eighty.” He glances at the TV behind me then back to me. “Murder on Mason Lane,” he says. “It was the neighbor. She was committing Medicare fraud using the victim’s deceased wife’s information. He caught on so she killed him.”
I gasp. “You spoiler! You spoiling spoiler who spoils!” Then I shrug. “This is a new episode. You don’t even know that. It’s the daughter. She killed him. I’ve had her pegged since the first commercial break.”
“You’re cute.”
“Just you wait,” I tell him, very satisfied with myself. I’m really good at guessing whodunnit.
“Sorry, you murder nerd, I worked on this case two years ago. It’s the neighbor.”
“Really?” I drop my makeup bag into the suitcase and check to see if he’s teasing me.
“I swear. I’ll tell you all the good shit the show left out once we’re on the plane.”
I survey Boyd with interest. I do have a lot of questions. “I thought you were in cyber crimes, not murder.”
“Murder isn’t a department,” he replies, shaking his head at me.
“You know what I mean.”
“Most crimes have a cyber component to them these days. There’s always a cyber trail.”
Shit, that’s hot.”
― Trust
“Let’s see it,” Boyd calls from outside the dressing room.
“How do you know I like this one enough to come out?”
“Because you’ve been in the same dress for five minutes and you’re wearing pretend heels,” he answers drily.
Wait. I fling open the door. “Are you watching me under the fitting room door? That’s kind of pervy.”
He smiles slowly. “All I can see are your feet to mid calf.”
“Maybe you have a foot fetish.”
― Trust
“How do you know I like this one enough to come out?”
“Because you’ve been in the same dress for five minutes and you’re wearing pretend heels,” he answers drily.
Wait. I fling open the door. “Are you watching me under the fitting room door? That’s kind of pervy.”
He smiles slowly. “All I can see are your feet to mid calf.”
“Maybe you have a foot fetish.”
― Trust
“Did you have somewhere else you needed to be?” I ask, deflecting the question.
“Yes,” she says. But it’s lacking truth and comes out a little sullenly.
“Where? Is there a murder marathon on TV this afternoon, safety girl?”
“No!” she says. But she says it too quickly and fidgets in her seat.
“Holy shit, there is, isn’t there? You’re so weird.” She’s amazing.
“It’s a Criminal Minds marathon, jerk,” she retorts and this conversation starts to make sense. I’m competing with a fucking television show.
“So you wanted to get home to watch reruns, is what you’re telling me?”
“Fine,” she huffs. “I guess I can watch reruns another time.”
“Thanks,” I say drily. “That’s big of you.”
“You’re welcome,” she replies and I’m honestly not sure if she’s being snarky or serious”
― Trust
“Yes,” she says. But it’s lacking truth and comes out a little sullenly.
“Where? Is there a murder marathon on TV this afternoon, safety girl?”
“No!” she says. But she says it too quickly and fidgets in her seat.
“Holy shit, there is, isn’t there? You’re so weird.” She’s amazing.
“It’s a Criminal Minds marathon, jerk,” she retorts and this conversation starts to make sense. I’m competing with a fucking television show.
“So you wanted to get home to watch reruns, is what you’re telling me?”
“Fine,” she huffs. “I guess I can watch reruns another time.”
“Thanks,” I say drily. “That’s big of you.”
“You’re welcome,” she replies and I’m honestly not sure if she’s being snarky or serious”
― Trust
“So what did you think of Boyd?”
“What?” My head snaps up from the baby and I glance at Sophie. Am I that bad a liar?
“Boyd? My brother? You met him at the hospital on Monday?”
Oh, okay, whew. “He seemed nice,” I offer. I’m not sure why. ‘Nice’ isn’t really at the top of my descriptive words for Boyd Gallagher. Words like ‘gorgeous,’ ‘cocky,’ ‘nosy,’ ‘fit,’ ‘sophisticated,’ ‘chiseled’ and ‘resourceful’ come to mind. But ‘nice’ works too.
Everly seems to think the two of you would be good together,” she says, trying to dig into my thoughts on the subject.
“Yes, well, Everly also spent fifteen years thinking she and Finn Camden were a perfect match. You can’t always believe her.”
“True enough,” Sophie agrees with a laugh.”
― Trust
“What?” My head snaps up from the baby and I glance at Sophie. Am I that bad a liar?
“Boyd? My brother? You met him at the hospital on Monday?”
Oh, okay, whew. “He seemed nice,” I offer. I’m not sure why. ‘Nice’ isn’t really at the top of my descriptive words for Boyd Gallagher. Words like ‘gorgeous,’ ‘cocky,’ ‘nosy,’ ‘fit,’ ‘sophisticated,’ ‘chiseled’ and ‘resourceful’ come to mind. But ‘nice’ works too.
Everly seems to think the two of you would be good together,” she says, trying to dig into my thoughts on the subject.
“Yes, well, Everly also spent fifteen years thinking she and Finn Camden were a perfect match. You can’t always believe her.”
“True enough,” Sophie agrees with a laugh.”
― Trust
“Curious? Are you serious?” Her eyes widen. Yup. Definitely annoyed. “You are such a dick!” She drops her voice to a whisper when she says dick and I know it’s because it offends her schoolteacher sensibilities to swear in public. But hearing her whisper it combined with a quick glance around to make sure no one is listening to her, well, that shit is downright erotic.
“Fascinated,” I confirm with a slight nod. “I mean, when you started in with the knock-knock jokes, wow.”
― Trust
“Fascinated,” I confirm with a slight nod. “I mean, when you started in with the knock-knock jokes, wow.”
― Trust
“You’re around an awful lot lately. Are you stalking me?”
“Stalking you? This is my Starbucks. I live around the corner,” I tell her. “There’s at least two Starbuckses closer to your apartment than this one. I think you picked this Starbucks so you’d run into me.” I can’t imagine that’s true, but I wouldn’t mind it if it was. She’s been on my mind since I first laid eyes on her almost a week ago.
“Uh, no,” she replies sarcastically. It seems to be her go-to when she’s nervous. “I never meet first dates anywhere within a three-block radius of my apartment.”
A three-block radius? She kills me. She cannot be getting laid much, which pleases me in some ridiculously caveman way.
“Well, that sounds very… safe of you.”
She nods in a way that tells me she’s a little bit smug about her safety rules. She’s so fucking cute.”
― Trust
“Stalking you? This is my Starbucks. I live around the corner,” I tell her. “There’s at least two Starbuckses closer to your apartment than this one. I think you picked this Starbucks so you’d run into me.” I can’t imagine that’s true, but I wouldn’t mind it if it was. She’s been on my mind since I first laid eyes on her almost a week ago.
“Uh, no,” she replies sarcastically. It seems to be her go-to when she’s nervous. “I never meet first dates anywhere within a three-block radius of my apartment.”
A three-block radius? She kills me. She cannot be getting laid much, which pleases me in some ridiculously caveman way.
“Well, that sounds very… safe of you.”
She nods in a way that tells me she’s a little bit smug about her safety rules. She’s so fucking cute.”
― Trust
“You’ll need a dress,” I tell her and wait for the objection I know is coming.
“I have dresses,” she replies, but tiny lines of concern mar her forehead and I’ve been with enough women to know what’s going through her head. Does she have the right dress for this? How fancy is the event? What will everyone else be wearing? Add to that—she can’t have the budget for a dress. She’s fresh out of college and on a teacher’s salary, both of which tell me it isn’t likely she has an appropriate dress hanging in her closet. Shit, this entire scheme is pure genius, I think, as I make a mental note to cancel the date I had lined up for this wedding when I get home.
This is a formal event. We’ll pick up a dress this weekend.”
She gives me a dirty look. “What do you mean we’ll pick up a dress this weekend?”
“I mean shopping. I’ll pick you up at ten on Saturday.”
“I can find a dress by myself,” she says firmly.
“Please. You were wearing pants with donuts on them the second time I saw you. If you can even call those things pants.” Fucking leggings left nothing to the imagination. And I’ve done a lot of imagining. Mostly involving her legs wrapped around my hips. “Half my family is going to be there. I’ll pick out the dress.” I could give a fuck about the dress. I want to spend time with her that she thinks isn’t a date, so she’ll relax and be herself.
“Well, that was rude,” she deadpans.
I shrug. “Besides, you’re doing me a favor,” I remind her, “so the dress is on me.”
“Whatever,” she agrees sullenly.
“You’re welcome,” I reply.”
― Trust
“I have dresses,” she replies, but tiny lines of concern mar her forehead and I’ve been with enough women to know what’s going through her head. Does she have the right dress for this? How fancy is the event? What will everyone else be wearing? Add to that—she can’t have the budget for a dress. She’s fresh out of college and on a teacher’s salary, both of which tell me it isn’t likely she has an appropriate dress hanging in her closet. Shit, this entire scheme is pure genius, I think, as I make a mental note to cancel the date I had lined up for this wedding when I get home.
This is a formal event. We’ll pick up a dress this weekend.”
She gives me a dirty look. “What do you mean we’ll pick up a dress this weekend?”
“I mean shopping. I’ll pick you up at ten on Saturday.”
“I can find a dress by myself,” she says firmly.
“Please. You were wearing pants with donuts on them the second time I saw you. If you can even call those things pants.” Fucking leggings left nothing to the imagination. And I’ve done a lot of imagining. Mostly involving her legs wrapped around my hips. “Half my family is going to be there. I’ll pick out the dress.” I could give a fuck about the dress. I want to spend time with her that she thinks isn’t a date, so she’ll relax and be herself.
“Well, that was rude,” she deadpans.
I shrug. “Besides, you’re doing me a favor,” I remind her, “so the dress is on me.”
“Whatever,” she agrees sullenly.
“You’re welcome,” I reply.”
― Trust
“He’s hot—and he’s FBI. Everyone knows you have that Fed fetish. I bet he owns handcuffs,” she adds, with a dramatic wink. “And there is no way he’s bad in bed. No way. You know how you can just tell sometimes by looking at a guy? Just by the way he moves? That’s what you need. A guy who knows what he’s doing in bed. And at the very least this guy is packing.”
“Wait. Are you talking about my brother?” Sophie interjects. Sophie has a half-brother I’ve never met.
“Obviously, Sophie. How many federal agents do I know?” Everly responds in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.
“It’s actually a great idea, but please do not talk about my brother’s junk in front of me. It’s disgusting.” Sophie winces and rubs at her baby bump. “I think Boyd’s a bit of a player though. He’s never even introduced me to anyone he’s seeing. But good plan. You guys talk about it. I’m going to the restroom.” She pushes back her chair and stands, then immediately sits again, looking at us in a panic. “I think my water just broke.”
“I’ve got this,” Everly announces, waving her hands excitedly as she flags down the waitress. “I’m gonna need a pot of boiling water, some towels and the check.”
“Oh, my God,” Sophie mutters and digs her cell phone out of her purse.
“Just the check,” I tell the waitress. I turn back to Everly as Sophie calls her husband. “You’re not delivering Sophie’s baby, Everly. Her water broke ten seconds ago and her husband—the gynecologist—is in their condo upstairs. So even if this baby was coming in the next five minutes, which it is not, you’re still not delivering it at a table in Serafina.”
Everly slumps in her chair and shakes her head. “I’ve been watching YouTube videos on childbirth for months, just in case. What a waste.” She sighs, then perks up. “Can I at least be in the delivery room?”
“No,” we all respond in unison.”
― Trust
“Wait. Are you talking about my brother?” Sophie interjects. Sophie has a half-brother I’ve never met.
“Obviously, Sophie. How many federal agents do I know?” Everly responds in a ‘duh’ tone of voice.
“It’s actually a great idea, but please do not talk about my brother’s junk in front of me. It’s disgusting.” Sophie winces and rubs at her baby bump. “I think Boyd’s a bit of a player though. He’s never even introduced me to anyone he’s seeing. But good plan. You guys talk about it. I’m going to the restroom.” She pushes back her chair and stands, then immediately sits again, looking at us in a panic. “I think my water just broke.”
“I’ve got this,” Everly announces, waving her hands excitedly as she flags down the waitress. “I’m gonna need a pot of boiling water, some towels and the check.”
“Oh, my God,” Sophie mutters and digs her cell phone out of her purse.
“Just the check,” I tell the waitress. I turn back to Everly as Sophie calls her husband. “You’re not delivering Sophie’s baby, Everly. Her water broke ten seconds ago and her husband—the gynecologist—is in their condo upstairs. So even if this baby was coming in the next five minutes, which it is not, you’re still not delivering it at a table in Serafina.”
Everly slumps in her chair and shakes her head. “I’ve been watching YouTube videos on childbirth for months, just in case. What a waste.” She sighs, then perks up. “Can I at least be in the delivery room?”
“No,” we all respond in unison.”
― Trust
“Sit.” The stadium officer points to a chair. There’s a table with two chairs on one side and one on the other. There’s even a surveillance window on the wall, like an episode of Law & Order. This has got to be a joke.
I sit. What else am I supposed to do? Make a run for it? I’m not a run-for-it kind of girl. Besides, I’ve done nothing wrong. I am not a criminal. I’m a second-grade teacher. Maybe something awful happened to Cal? Maybe he tripped and hit his head. Stadium seating involves a lot of stairs. Or maybe he got shanked while in line for a cheesesteak. With a plastic knife. It happens. I think I saw it once on TV. What if they need me to provide medical information? I don’t know any medical information about Cal, I’ve met the guy twice”
― Trust
I sit. What else am I supposed to do? Make a run for it? I’m not a run-for-it kind of girl. Besides, I’ve done nothing wrong. I am not a criminal. I’m a second-grade teacher. Maybe something awful happened to Cal? Maybe he tripped and hit his head. Stadium seating involves a lot of stairs. Or maybe he got shanked while in line for a cheesesteak. With a plastic knife. It happens. I think I saw it once on TV. What if they need me to provide medical information? I don’t know any medical information about Cal, I’ve met the guy twice”
― Trust
