“God, no,” I answer with all seriousness.
After a pregnant pause he says, “You know a lesser man might have his feelings hurt over your refusal to see me topless.” I roll my eyes but of course he can’t see that.
“Somehow, I think you’ll survive,” I droll.
“Look, it could be worse.”
“I’m not sure how.”
“Only I saw you without a shirt on, I already knew you were gorgeous,” he says. “But if we don’t move on to a new topic, one where the sight of you in that pretty pink lace bra isn’t fresh in my head, I’m about to take you out for cider and a hayride sporting a baseball bat in the front of my pants.”
“I highly think it’s that noticeable,” I mumble.
“Care to take a gander?”
Actually, I do. I shouldn’t I know that, but I can’t help myself, so I peek out from under the pillow where he is standing next to my bed. It’s like a wreck on the side of the highway, you might jusge all the rubber neckers but you’re still going to look. So I do, I turn my head to look at the front of Tanner’s jeans. There is a—coughsizeable—bulge behind his zipper.
“It appears that your original statement was correct,” I say as haughtily as I can. Tanner strangles on a laugh before shutting it down.
“Can we go now?” he asks.
“I suppose.”
“Good,” he claps moving towards the door. “Might I suggest a sweatshirt, it’s chilly out.” And then he winks at me and walks out the door leaving me with my mouth hanging open.
