It may have taken nine years, and a whole lot of wrong turns along the way, but their story felt complete at last. Because, finally, she was his.

Jordan couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Yeah, I like this guy. He rescued me from a crazed man with a gun, he makes me laugh, and he calls his mother Ma. I’d say he’s a keeper.

He looked again. Longer this time. She may have ‘forgotten’ to put a bra on that morning. Another oops. “Are you kidding me with that?” he asked.

Don't get me wrong. I love a Denver omelette as much as the next girl. But I'm curious whether that’s your thing, or if you try to change up the routine depending on the specific woman. You know… like, green pepper because I have green eyes, ham because I’m so funny, and onions for all the tears you’ll shed after I leave.

You are not just a big-picture girl for me, Brooke Parker. You’re the only picture.

Where is Wilkins, anyway?" Cameron asked. "In the living room, being accosted by eighteen women who think he's a stripper. I thought it was best to duck in here." "So much for never leaving a man behind." "If he starts screaming, I'll lay down a cover fire and go pull him out.

- I hate to break this to you, Cameron, but you are only human. - Shh... I've been trying to keep that under wraps for years.