“Well, something's wrong," Max said, his brow knit with concern. "After twenty minutes alone with Bennett, she's still wearing her shirt.”

“He pulled back, staring at her in the dim carriage, his brows still knit. "Megs?"Oh, right. She still hadn't told him. Well, it was his own fault; his mouth was simply delicious."I love you," she said, speaking clearly so that there might be no confusion.”

“A few minutes later, she comes out of my bedroom wearing one of my t-shirts, and it might almost be worse than seeing her in no shirt at all.”

“Yes, it is.” Bennett blew out his breath. “You can’t expect me to…sit in the morning room and chatabout the weather with her mother, and hold her yarn while she knits, and…wait five weeks before Iattempt to hold her hand.”

“Looking up at Max he asked, “Do you recommend anything?” He kept his eyes low and to the table, trying but failing to keep his eyes open against the bright sun light.“You okay?” Max asked, watching as Landon struggled to meet her eyes.“I’m trying not to look at you,” he replied.“I’m sorry, what?”“I mean I’m trying not to hurt my eyes.”Max crossed her arms over her chest and raised a wicked brow. Landon shielded the sun with his hand and finally made eye contact with her. “That came out wrong,” he said apologetically. “It sure did,” she said with a chuckle.”

“Wait a minute while I think," said Miss Peavey. There was a pause. Miss Peavey sat with knit brows."How would it be..." ventured Mr. Cootes."Cheese it!" said Miss Peavey.Mr. Cootes cheesed it.”