Page 27 of First Love, Second Draft

“So what if he does?” Gracie shot back. “Sometimes romance readers just want a sexy jowl-grabbing scene. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Where exactly are your jowls anyway?” Matt said, leaning down to poke Rachel’s cheek.

She slapped his finger away. “Don’t you ever go searching for my jowls again.”

“You know, I actually kind of hope that is dialogue straight out of Aunt Gracie’s story.”

Rachel massaged her cheeks, unable to stop giggling. “My jowls are getting sore.”

“Yeah, well I reckon my back’s about to get sore, because there’s only one way to end this if we ever want to get back to those pancakes.” Especially now that Noah and Gracie had gotten into a debate about whether a tape measure or a yard stick would be more accurate to measure the height of the porch steps.

“Rachel,” Matt shouted loud enough to be heard over Gracie and Noah’s bickering. Loud enough to get their attention. He cupped Rachel’s face, squishing her cheeks so hard that her lips puckered up like a fish. “My little horse-hater darling, I can’t deny it any longer. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And even though I don’t know where our future will take us, hopefully back to the kitchen where we can finish our pancakes, I’ll be happy. So long as I’m with you.”

“Oh Matt, or Mr. Broad Shoulders, or whatever your name is,” Rachel replied with her face still smooshed together in his hands. “You’re the only man who’s ever looked past my jowls to see me for the woman I really am.”

“Oh brother,” Noah muttered.

“Quiet,” Gracie scolded. “See how easy he lifts her now.”

Easy? Yeah, Matt wasn’t so sure about that. Not if he was supposed to drag her up by her face. “Um...” He moved his hands to the top of her head, then the back of her head. Patted her hair.

“What are you doing? Checking me for lice?” Rachel said.

“I’m not sure where to grab.”

“Wow, this is really romantic,” Noah said.

“They’re supposed to be kissing right now. There’d be a lot more embracing. Why aren’t you guys embracing?” Gracie said.

Because Matt didn’t know what to embrace in order to lift her. Her rump would be helpful. But her rump was still currently situated two steps below him. Plus he didn’t imagine grabbing her by the rump would go over any better than grabbing her by the jowls.

“Come on, we’ve got this.” Rachel began tugging the front of his flannel shirt like he was their gym rope in P.E.

Matt’s nose banged into her forehead. “Ow.”

“No using your legs,” Noah said.

“She’s not using her legs,” Gracie said.

“You’re going to need to use your legs,” Matt whispered into a mouthful of her hair. “And you’re going to need to buy me a new flannel shirt.” At least three buttons had popped off. He reached for the belt loops on the back of her jeans.

“You’re giving me a wedgie.”

“Can’t help it. I’m caught up in the throes of passion, baby.” He tugged harder, getting enough leverage to slide his hand under her rump. No way around it. Had to be done if he was going to lift her. He squeezed his eyes shut, channeling all his strength into this feat.“Aaarrr,”he groaned, now sounding like the one who’d turned into a pirate as he slowly lifted her.

“Stop acting like you’re lifting a Buick,” Rachel said, still clutching his shirt.

“Wow,” Matt heard Gracie murmur. “His face looks worse than yours did when you carried the steamer trunk up those stairs.”

“Yeah, well that steamer trunk weighed a ton,” Noah said.

“What are you saying?” Rachel shouted.

Matt was pretty sure spittle had started flying from his lips at this point.

With a yell worthy of a bodybuilder setting a new world record in some sort of dead lift competition, Matt heaved Rachel the rest of the way onto his lap. Then released another guttural yell of victory. Followed by a whimpering, “Sweet mercy, I really may have to call my chiropractor.”

“My hero,” Rachel deadpanned, giving him a hearty pinch on the jowls.

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