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“I'm standing so close I can smell him, something familiar in the warmth of his skin--- the faintest whiff of his cologne with traces of warm amber and woody, resinous cedar and an underlying herbaceous, peppery note of olive oil that seems to be a part of his essence. I lean closer, my nose brushing his skin, and he pulls back enough to look at me incredulously. "Are you sniffing me?" I giggle, half-embarrassed at being caught out. "Sorry, you smell delicious," I tell him a little flirtatiously. "Oh, do I?" He watches me, intrigued. "What do I smell like?" "Like warm honey and the sticky sap of a cedar tree.”

“I choose a long, flat stone from the pile and wedge it carefully between two larger stones in the wall. It's a good fit, I note with satisfaction. "You've always been good at that, making something out of very little," Nicolo responds, and there's a fondness and admiration in his gaze that surprises me. He sees something in me I forgot was even there.”