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you, or if everything would just be too weird. I mean, what if it's not the same? Would we go forward or backward?
Sometimes I think I'm just being weird :) .
    He liked her frankness. Zack smiled and scanned the rest of the email. She'd spent the day with her godchildren. And, from reading about how Lizzie used her to practice her nursing skills on, she wasn't above gettin' down and playing with them. But being around a happily married couple had left her with questions, a lot of them. More than once he and Hope had talked about relationships. What worked, what didn't, what was realistic. They'd danced around each other, feeling each other out, getting the lay of the land in terms of hopes and dreams, wants and desires. He really liked her frankness.
    She'd been to Santa Fe. And knew about Ghost Ranch. She dreamed of raising horses and wanted a big family. Despite the fact that hers wasn't close.
    He chuckled again. Large families seemed to come with their own problems. Hell, even now, his brothers razzed him about his weight, in contrast to his lack of height. And the fact he'd rather paint than work cows or horses all day. They didn't understand his need to create anything, even music. Ty came closest, but even he didn't quite get it.
    Speaking of creating, he needed to get busy on a reply before Travis woke up. He typed while mentally debating the merits of doing Hope in watercolor or oils now that his pencil sketches were done.
I don't think you're cynical or picky. I think some people are happy with what life hands them, and that's not a bad thing. But some of us want more. Then maybe we risk missing opportunities because we're so busy second guessing ourselves. And believe me, Hope honey, I'm not preaching. I'm just as guilty as the next person. Sometimes I wonder why I can't just settle for a local girl. But then I wouldn't have met you.
I've thought about what it might be like to meet you—more than once. Yeah, it would probably be awkward at first, but no, I don't think we'd take any steps backward. I think meeting you could only be a good thing :) .
    He sat back in his chair and debated how much to say. She'd either think he was a psychopath or a putz.
You can come and hold my hand anytime. Maybe it's the artist in me, but I find myself wondering about the weirdest things. Like how your hands would feel. What you smell like. The texture of your hair and if it looks blue in sunlight. The sound of your voice. How you laugh. How you cry.
    Do you scream when you come? He couldn't type that last part, but he'd thought it more than once over the last month. And jacked off while trying to pretend it was her hand and not his. Or that he was inside her. Gawd! It was difficult not to.
    He blew out a long slow breath, wondering if he had time for a cold shower. He read the email again, decided it didn't sound too perverted or crazy and clicked 'send' before he could change his mind.
    Zack painted all day, took Travis out to dinner that night and allowed himself a long hot shower and a hand job after his son was asleep.
    And forced himself to stay off the computer a whole twenty-four hours, refusing to turn it on until after he put Travis to bed the following night. A part of him was scared to death she hadn't written back. Or worse, had written back telling him to get lost.
Dear Zack...you always make me smile. Those local girls don't know what they're missing. You're just too damned sweet and you always make me laugh. Something I sure needed after today.
I like honeysuckle and jasmine and vanilla but I don't really wear perfume. I never found one that appealed to me, but I love candles. I have no idea what I smell like and I'm not too sure on all the rest. My hands are kinda rough, doesn't seem to matter how much lotion I use. And I'm not sure I could describe my voice. I laugh really loud and I rarely cry, but when I do, I cry really quiet. Besides being stubborn, I have a temper and I'm not afraid to use it, but sometimes I