plenty more would follow. If that was true, then Spanner was about to get a population boost.
Spanner was in an excellent position to take advantage of Glacial N ational Park tourism. The community was more charming and more picturesque than many of the smaller fishing towns nearby. A population boom over the last three years and economic expansion of the small town had been a topic of conversation all summer.
John’s face transfo rmed when a very attractive blonde woman came out of the back room, snacking on fruit leather. John’s wife Larissa had not aged a day since high school. She cried out, “Oh my gosh!” when she saw Mark, and ran into his arms. “How are you? It has been too damn long.”
Larissa kissed his cheek and looked up at him with friendly affection. “Come over tonight. I’ll make up some chili and we can catch up.”
“I can’t,” Mark said with genuine regret. “In fact, I need to get going. I just stopped in to see if I could find some clothes… For a friend.”
A slow, knowing smile appeared on Larissa’s and John’s face.
“Has some woman finall y got her hooks into you?” Larissa purred, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Ma rk winced. “No, just a friend.” For the first time all day, he thought of Shelby Sloan at home in D.C., waiting for him to return to her. Neither Larissa nor John asked about Shelby because they didn’t know about her. Mark had never introduced her to his family or friends, despite the fact that he’d been dating her off and on for nearly three years. He had never even mentioned her in casual conversation.
Shelby had reluctantly given him this time in Montana to “sort his shit out” as she put it, but she did expect him to return to her with a ring in hand.
He didn’t know what he wanted with her. There was nothing “wrong” with Shelby. She was beautiful, funny, smart , successful in her job as a federal prosecutor. And great in bed. That last point lingered. Sex with her had always been a whoop-de-doo thrill ride, but he’d begun to feel empty afterward. A little sick. Despite all the sex with Shelby, there was no real “sexiness”. No sweetness. No connection.
Exactly when his needs in a woman transformed from the gross physical, he couldn’t say, but lately a part of himself that he didn’t understand seemed to need more than just a roll in the hay.
Just one look at Larissa and John together and any fool could see they were as crazy in love as they had been when they started dating in high school. When Mark had dropped into Spanner for a couple of days to be with his family for Christmas last year, he had invited them over for dinner and drinks. Larissa had curled up on the sofa beside John, and they’d barely been able to keep their hands off each other. Larissa was touching his hair, or his hand was squeezing her leg. It was like their hands were magnets; they couldn’t resist touching each other. After eighteen years of marriage, you’d think all that stuff had played itself out, but not with these two.
He didn’t have that with Shelby. He’d never had that with anyone.
Mark hoped the subject of his love life wa s dropped. It was a distinctly depressing subject.
He browsed some soft cotton t-shirts and grabbed a stack of them in teal, beige, white, black and gray, then six pairs of soft, stretchy yoga pants. Unaccustomed for shopping for women, he guessed Aimee was a size four. Thin, fit, with taut womanly curves. He prayed he was right; last thing he wanted was to insult her by either over or under estimating. He also grabbed some cashmere socks for her since the hospital socks didn’t look as comfy as these.
As he signed his name to the credit card slip, Larissa tried again. “We’re going for a fifty mile bike ride tomorrow morning. Why don’t you come with us?”
“Can’t,” Mark said and shook his head.
Spanner was in an excellent position to take advantage of Glacial N ational Park tourism. The community was more charming and more picturesque than many of the smaller fishing towns nearby. A population boom over the last three years and economic expansion of the small town had been a topic of conversation all summer.
John’s face transfo rmed when a very attractive blonde woman came out of the back room, snacking on fruit leather. John’s wife Larissa had not aged a day since high school. She cried out, “Oh my gosh!” when she saw Mark, and ran into his arms. “How are you? It has been too damn long.”
Larissa kissed his cheek and looked up at him with friendly affection. “Come over tonight. I’ll make up some chili and we can catch up.”
“I can’t,” Mark said with genuine regret. “In fact, I need to get going. I just stopped in to see if I could find some clothes… For a friend.”
A slow, knowing smile appeared on Larissa’s and John’s face.
“Has some woman finall y got her hooks into you?” Larissa purred, her eyes glinting with mischief.
Ma rk winced. “No, just a friend.” For the first time all day, he thought of Shelby Sloan at home in D.C., waiting for him to return to her. Neither Larissa nor John asked about Shelby because they didn’t know about her. Mark had never introduced her to his family or friends, despite the fact that he’d been dating her off and on for nearly three years. He had never even mentioned her in casual conversation.
Shelby had reluctantly given him this time in Montana to “sort his shit out” as she put it, but she did expect him to return to her with a ring in hand.
He didn’t know what he wanted with her. There was nothing “wrong” with Shelby. She was beautiful, funny, smart , successful in her job as a federal prosecutor. And great in bed. That last point lingered. Sex with her had always been a whoop-de-doo thrill ride, but he’d begun to feel empty afterward. A little sick. Despite all the sex with Shelby, there was no real “sexiness”. No sweetness. No connection.
Exactly when his needs in a woman transformed from the gross physical, he couldn’t say, but lately a part of himself that he didn’t understand seemed to need more than just a roll in the hay.
Just one look at Larissa and John together and any fool could see they were as crazy in love as they had been when they started dating in high school. When Mark had dropped into Spanner for a couple of days to be with his family for Christmas last year, he had invited them over for dinner and drinks. Larissa had curled up on the sofa beside John, and they’d barely been able to keep their hands off each other. Larissa was touching his hair, or his hand was squeezing her leg. It was like their hands were magnets; they couldn’t resist touching each other. After eighteen years of marriage, you’d think all that stuff had played itself out, but not with these two.
He didn’t have that with Shelby. He’d never had that with anyone.
Mark hoped the subject of his love life wa s dropped. It was a distinctly depressing subject.
He browsed some soft cotton t-shirts and grabbed a stack of them in teal, beige, white, black and gray, then six pairs of soft, stretchy yoga pants. Unaccustomed for shopping for women, he guessed Aimee was a size four. Thin, fit, with taut womanly curves. He prayed he was right; last thing he wanted was to insult her by either over or under estimating. He also grabbed some cashmere socks for her since the hospital socks didn’t look as comfy as these.
As he signed his name to the credit card slip, Larissa tried again. “We’re going for a fifty mile bike ride tomorrow morning. Why don’t you come with us?”
“Can’t,” Mark said and shook his head.
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