I laughed. “You’re getting laid?”
“Well, I assumed I might.” He smiled at me. “Unless I’ve read the woman signs wrong again?”
“No, you read them right. But, if you call itlaid, you might just not get laid.” I smiled at him, and his smile widened even more. There was something about his ability to go from sexy-filthy, to boyish-cute in a matter of seconds. And it was making my knees very weak.
“Sure, I’ll go in by myself,” I said to him.
“Thanks.” Cue boyish-cute smile again. “When you live in a small town, nothing is sacred, not even your sex life. People in small towns survive on gossip and rumors, and like to spread them as if it was the town hobby. And I wouldn’t want this spreading and being discussed by everyone. Next thing you know I’m—”
“I’m your mistress from some chain of small oceanic islands somewhere, with questionable Swiss heritage and a bad hip,” I teased.
“Exactly. And we wouldn’t want that,” he said, playing along.
I shook my head. “No! We would not want that kind of scandal spreading here, in Willow Bay.”
He smiled at me and then sighed. “Do you know how cute you are?”
“Cute!” I exclaimed . “Um . . . is that a compliment, or a . . . I mean,cute? Puppies and kittens are cute!”
“Compliment. Terribly cute.”
Cue sexy-filthy smile.
Cue kneecaps turning to liquid and pooling on the floor.
“And fucking sexy, with red lipstick on!”
“I’ll . . . um . . . just go into that shop now . . . should I?” I stumbled over my words as his eyes searched me.
He gave me another smile and walked off, throwing a sexy-sounding, “I’ll be ready and waiting in the car!” at me.
