What was worse, he couldn't tell her how much he thought he maybe might kinda sorta love her.

Problem was, he couldn’t masturbate his sexual desires away because he’d fry off his cock." Hector

Then she looked away, dismissing him as if she’d found him to be substandard.

All right, then. She didn’t find him attractive. Good.

In fact, he kept his head shaved to a glossy shine for just that reason. He was a man willing to do anything to discourage feminine attention.
Because yeah, females could be vanity hounds and most preferred their dates to have hair. Black, blond, red, it didn’t matter, as long as the locks were thick and lustrous.

And here was a news flash for little
Miss Giggles: when he allowed his to grow, it was dark brown, nearly jet, with hints of gold and worthy of a fucking lion.

That’s my cousin, dickwad,” Agent Jaxon Tremain said from Hector’s left.
Had Whacky Jacky been next to Dallas, he would have drilled his knuckles into the guy’s bicep.
“Watch your mouth.”

“By watch my mouth do you mean I should invite your cuz back to my place for a game of Hide the Magic Wand, or my new personal fave, Puff on the Magic Dragon?” Dallas asked conversationally.
“And I know what you’re thinking. I’m really into wizardry these days. Well, you’re right.” Hector gave a rusty bark of laughter. He hadn’t observed Dallas in this good a mood in a long time.

A low growl escaped Jaxon. “I meant I’d scoop out your liver with a spoon, you idiot!”

“Sterling silver or plastic?” Hector asked. In their line of work, details were important.
Besides, he liked being part of their banter.

Impossible. I merely brought the essentials. Clothes, my favorite boots, face cream, makeup, a few books to read, a couple cans of caviar, lingerie, and my coffeepot.
Plus a few other things a girl like me just can’t live without but can’t mention in mixed company because it would be indelicate. You know, because they’re sexual.”

- at “lingerie,” Hector and Dallas had stood a little straighter. At “sexual,” they’d moaned. Jaxon punched them both in the back of the head.

I was even starting to relax—a little—until he took me to his parents' house for dinner. I've never met two people more in need of a divorce. They bickered and fought all evening. Royce said that's how they express their love. I don't believe him. I mean, please. You tell me if you feel the love from this conversation (written word for word as I remember it):
Linda: Elliot, be a dear and get me another drink.
Elliot: Get it yourself.
Linda: Get up and fix me a drink, you lazy man.
Elliot: Woman, don't push me on this. I've finally gotten comfortable.
Linda: (sugary sweet smile) I'll push you only when you're standing on a bridge.
Elliot: If I were standing on a bridge and saw you coming, you wouldn't have to push me. I'd
jump.
See? Does that sound "loving" to you?