Jordy
Grizz bends over the stove, his corded biceps bunching as he stirs the sizzling meat. He covers the pan and heads to the fridge, rummaging around there for another package wrapped in butcher’s paper. He moves fluidly for such a big guy. His powerful bulk flows from the fridge to the stove and the controlled grace of his movements makes my breath flutter in my chest.
My fox is fascinated by him. I have to admit, she has a point. He’s so large and rugged, he belongs on a mountain, chopping down trees. On a construction site, working with his hands. Or in a war zone, unleashing the violence I sense inside him. Watching him cook in the kitchen is like having Godzilla knit you a sweater. The great and powerful executing the mundane. Every little domestic thing he does is a miracle.
“Wh
