“My hands are fine.”

Brian’s frosty demeanor thawed marginally as he observed Lyndon eating unaided.

Yet, his gaze lingered on Lyndon, vigilant against any sign he might seek Rosalynn’s aid.

Lyndon sampled the congee and remarked leisurely, “Mr. Hughes, I’ve declared my orientation. Your looks of affection are unwarranted.”

Dumbfounded, Brian couldn’t muster a reply.

He was not gazing with affection!

Lyndon certainly thought too highly of himself!

on their exchange, flicked her gaze between

shared

she

dominate in

musing expression, Brian was

embrace, his fingers delicately cradling her

what’s on your

‘s L I B R

“Nothing.”

your thoughts

playful tone,

sought to disengage his hand from her

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