6
" Logan's donating a sculpture to the town. He didn't want to make a big deal about it--wanted it on the down low, so they're doing a small unveiling."
"Down low, Gwen?"
"I know, aren't I cool?"
We all turn back to the scene across the street. I ask, "What do you think it is?"
"I hope it's a self-portrait, a nude one." Josh sighs.
Gwen and I eye him, but he has the faraway dreamy look about him. Clearly he's envisioning Logan naked. I lean over and whisper, "Whatever you're thinking, it's better."
His eyes narrow at me. "You are a hateful woman. "
― L.A. Fiore , Waiting for the One (Harrington, Maine, #1)
9
" Saffron, how are you?" Logan asks and he sounds genuinely interested. How am I? Small talk, right.
I rest my hip on the table and give my back to Logan as I look down at his date. "Would you think it odd for a man to come to a small town and proceed to not speak to you for six months?"
Her perfect lips form a grin. "Everyone or just me specifically?"
"You, specifically."
Her eyes light with humor. "Yes, that is odd."
"Odder still for that man to then take you to bed and blow your mind with sex for almost twenty-four hours before ditching you and then staying off the radar for a week?"
The humor has left her gaze now, but she answers anyway. "Indeed."
"So what would you think when that same man shows up at your place of employment with a beautiful woman and attempts to engage you in small talk?"
Her eyes leave mine for Logan's, but I don't miss the emotion in her gaze. She's mad.
"Exactly." I turn and give Logan my full attention. "So how am I, Logan?" I pull out the chair next to him and sit down. "I could pretend to be a cool, sophisticated woman and lie to you and say I'm fabulous, but that just isn't me. What I am is hurt and more than a little pissed, so the idea of making small talk with you is repugnant to me, unless that talk is centered on what I'd like to do to you. For example, I'd love to reach for that dull butter knife and stick it in your eye, giving it a hard turn just for good measure. The idea of strapping you to a man-sized lobster trap and throwing you into the ocean holds a great deal of appeal, as does the thought of running your ass over with my car, repeatedly. I could sit here all day making small talk about that, or you could just shut up and order some goddamn lunch. "
― L.A. Fiore , Waiting for the One (Harrington, Maine, #1)
11
" I deserve this shrimp. Born to people who clearly shouldn't have reproduced, I date my best friend and turn him gay, date another man who doesn't know he's gay, almost have dinner with a third man who's more interested in his reflection than me, and land on a yeti who turns out to be a millionaire playboy.
"I lost the man I thought of as a father, had my thirtieth birthday party minus any family, and now I'm being dissed in the gossip rags. I am only human and I can take no more, so, yes, I have consumed my body weight in wine and I plan on eating this whole goddamn plate of shrimp. "
― L.A. Fiore , Waiting for the One (Harrington, Maine, #1)