Status Updates From The Last Real Cowboy / The ...

His shirt smelled like detergent and the outdoors and the spicy scent that was distinctly Sam.

She was horribly afraid that if she said yes she'd end up losing the very best part of herself in the process, making them both miserable. They wouldn't make it. While she knew that Sam would never mistreat her the way Jack and Steve had, she was terribly afraid of losing the part of her she was just beginning to find.

Chatelaine - noun - a woman in charge of a large house. HISTORICAL a set of short chains attached to a woman's belt, used for carrying keys or other items.
mid 19th cent: from French châtelaine, feminine of châtelain 'castellan,' from medieval Latin castellanus

But they were both going to be so hurt at the end of all this. He wanted to care for her and shoulder her burdens. And what she needed was someone who could step back and let her fight her own battles.

And now Alward is trying to get me to believe no one has ever said "I love you" to the heroine before.

She went to him because now that it was over she was fragile. He hugged her close and she drank in his smell - a bit woodsy, a bit like citrus and the blankety-soft scent of sleep because she'd dragged him out of bed.

Yes, I agree you are a dumbass. Glad it's beginning to dawn on you what a dumbass you are.

Ok, so then it's good because he leaves her alone for a while. Then when she needs his help, she calls him.

That's good.

But then he's all like,

Angela wouldn't push him away this time. No matter what it took. No matter how much she might fight him on it. The days of her standing alone against the world were done.

Which is exactly the wrong approach to take with this abuse survivor. What the fuck?!

Don't push her! JFC! She's so skittish. You have to be really slow and patient. Why are you SUCH a MORON!?

It nearly cost her everything - and she'd nearly lost herself in the process. She couldn't do that again.

"It's not just wanting you, you know that, right?" His eyes gleamed at her. "It's the way you see the world. It's how you make me stop and think. Like with the kids today. I looked at them and saw trouble, but you made me see something else - potential. With Clara, too." He smiled gently. "I never considered

"You challenge me. You're WORK. You have firm opinions, and I respect you for them."

She would let him kiss her one last time. And then he'd walk away. She'd make sure of it.

For the first time in years, Angela felt the ground shift beneath her feet. After focusing on her career, on the lives of others for so long, she wanted something for herself. And what she wanted - WHO she wanted - was Sam. It didn't matter about the justifications or reasons or differences in their lives. Nothing stopped the wanting. The only thing holding her back was that it scared her out of her wits.

She even smelled good, like outdoors and the soft lily of the valley that grew in the shade of Molly's weeping birch grove.

She reminded him of a skittish colt who needed a gentle and strong hand.

UGH

I'm not okay with him pressuring her to allow the photographer to take her picture. Not very mensch-like.

She fought the urge to close her eyes. The warning bells pealed with a suffocating warning. Sam was taking over. Things with Steve had started the same way. He'd ingrained himself into her life until one day she woke up and realized he'd begun controlling it in a way she swore would never happen again.

She swiped her tongue over her lips; now they held a tang of bitterness. Why did she have to fail in order to be attractive to him? She never wanted anyone to pity her ever again. She'd come too far for that. "You felt sorry for me."

"No!" He shook his head. "For the first time, the cold veneer you wear all the time slipped."

Was that how he saw her? Cold? She curled her arms around her middle. Is that how

The most worrying thing was that she liked this new side of Sam. When was the last time she'd felt pretty, desirable, cared for? He made her feel all those things and more, without the crippling anxiety that usually accompanied any sort of romantic overture.

Angela's heart skidded as his lips touched hers. She wasn't prepared for how they'd feel - gentle, warm and seductive. She remembered reading a book once where a character described kissing the hero as feeling like sliding down a rainbow. Angela had thought it a silly comparison at the time. Now she understood what it meant. It was HEAVENLY.

She sighed a little as his mouth nibbled at hers, teasing and making

"Come on, then. Put your arm around my neck."

She looked up at him, so shocked at his suggestion that she temporarily forgot about her toe and splinter. What would it be like to be picked up off her feet and held against his wide chest with his strong arms? It made something inside her lift up and go all fizzy. She couldn't quite make the leap between the idea and actual physical contact, though. Oh, how she

It had bothered him ever since he'd left her standing in the bedroom, her face pale and her greeny-blue eyes huge as they stared at him. He couldn't get her off his mind. He could still see the spark in her eyes. He'd seen something else, too - fear. She was afraid of him and he'd had the strangest desire to pull her into his arms and tell her it was all right.

Knowing her past, though, made him question every

She didn't do casual relationships because she didn't do ANY relationships. She could never let anyone close enough. Not that he needed to know that.

She forced herself to face him, schooling her features into what she hoped was an unreadable mask. This was why she didn't talk about her own history. Suddenly it defined her and everything she did.

He was so powerful, so forceful without any effort, and Angela knew he could swallow up a little wallflower like her in a blink of an eye.

???

She wasn't sure if he had touched her deliberately or not. But she was positive of one thing. He couldn't ever know that he affected her in any way. She simply didn't DO touching. It hit too many triggers.

Instead she inhaled, and counted to ten as she exhaled.

It was the one way he knew he'd disappointed his family, but he refused to enter into a marriage that wasn't real, that wasn't based on love and respect. He was probably foolish and an idealist, but that was where he drew the line. He imagined admitting such a thing to Angela. He suspected she'd laugh in his face. It was rather sentimental, he supposed. He wanted the kind of marriage his parents had.

The screen door thumped into the frame and she pressed a hand to her pounding chest. She shouldn't be so jumpy, but it was an automatic reaction she'd been conditioned to years ago.

Her heart seemed to freeze as her breath caught for one horrible, chilling moment. Then, very carefully and deliberately, she reached down and removed his fingers from her wrist and stepped back. She wasn't sure which emotion was taking over at the moment - anger or fear. But either one was enough to make the words that had been sitting on her tongue come out in a rush.