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“So where were we?” “I was stepping back,” he says, “and you were chastising me for it.” I chuckle. “Ah yes. So, shall I take matters into my own hands, or do you have the proper tool for the job?” I kiss his palm and then glance down at the lump in his towel. “Well, miss.” His voice has a slight southern twang. “A skilled lawman knows how to choose the right tool for the job, and that—” He motions with his head, “—is not the one I plan to use right now. Sorry to disappoint.” “I hate it when you get cocky.” — D.L. Orton
So where were we?”
“I was stepping back,” he says, “and you were chastising me for it.”
I chuckle. “Ah yes. So, shall I take matters into my own hands, or do you have the proper tool for the job?” I kiss his palm and then glance down at the lump in his towel.
“Well, miss.” His voice has a slight southern twang. “A skilled lawman knows how to choose the right tool for the job, and that—” He motions with his head, “—is not the one I plan to use right now. Sorry to disappoint.”
“I hate it when you get cocky.