It was then he touched me for the first time that night.

He did this by putting a warm hand on the small of my back, the heat of it melting into my flesh, traveling up my spine and down over my bottom.

“Christ, Iz, this is the best guac I’ve ever had,” he stated.

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So, she pushed me into not only going, but also making her sausage, olive and mushroom cups and taking them with me. She was obviously thinking that I’d work my way into Eddie’s heart by filling his stomach with sausage, olive and mushrooms, doused in cream, garlic and Parmesan sauce in a toasted bread cup.

I walked into Hank’s carrying a platter covered with foil.

It was still hot from the oven and burning through my sweater. I was late (again), I forgot a hot pad and the minute I walked in, everyone smelled the sausage and garlic.

“Fucking hell, what is that?” Carl asked, staring at the foil wrapped platter.

I set the dish down on a coffee table with kind of a clatter (because, as I said, it was burning me). I pulled the foil off. The garlic smell wafted out with such strength it was like a smack in the face. Everyone leaned back at the smell, then leaned forward and fell on the sausage cups like vultures.

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