“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 them and

shared a curious

spouse, she might have fancied

who would dominate

Brian was momentarily at a

in his embrace, his fingers delicately

what’s on your

E L A ‘s

“Nothing.”

thoughts on me,

tone, Brian drew

sought to disengage his hand from

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