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“Make it snappy,” I beg, clasping my hands and pouting my bottom lip.
She laughs as she walks away, clearly not understanding the urgency of the situation.
“I donotneed two pies,” she growls, swiping a piece ofmybacon. She’s looking for war taking my bacon like that.
“Then you can take one home for later. I’d thoroughly enjoy eating it off your naked body.”
“Hollis!” She tosses the piece of bacon at me.
I gasp. “Mia.You do not waste bacon. This is blasphemy.” I frown down at the piece of bacon, which bounced off of me and onto the floor.
“Then don’t say such dirty things in public,” she mumbles, her cheeks crimson. Her freckles grow darker as color floods her face.
“There is nothingdirtyabout me licking pie off your body.”
“Ooh, sounds fun,” Marge says, setting the pies down on the table.
“See Mia,” I point to Marge, “even she thinks it sounds fun.”
“If I had a piece as hot as you, I’d let you eat whatever you wanted.” She winks.
“Marge,” I mock-gasp. “You dirty minx.”
“I might be getting older,” she says, pointing to her wrinkle-lined face and graying hair, “but this girl still knows how to have fun.”
“I’m dying a thousand deaths and no one cares,” Mia grumbles, sliding down in the booth.
“You should be used to my dirty mouth by now and everything I like to do with it.”
“Marge, can we get to-go boxes,” she pleads.
“We’re not going anywhere,” I tell Marge.
Marge shakes her head. “Oh, young love,” she sighs, and heads to another table.
Mia covers her eyes with her hands and peeks out between her fingers. “You live to embarrass me, don’t you?”
I grin. “It might be one of my favorite pastimes.”
She sighs and sits up straight. “At least I got pie out of this.”
“Pie makes everything better,” I agree.
She pushes her food to the side and pulls the pie closer. I watch her wrap her lips around the fork loaded with chocolate and whipped cream, groaning with the erotic gesture.
She glares at me. “Are you making something sexual out of my pie eating?”
“I can’t help it,” I whine. “I have a dirty mind, you know this.”
She shakes her head but I can tell she’s trying her hardest not to laugh.
“Just eat your food,” she commands.
“I’d rather be eating your p—”
“Donotfinish that sentence, Hollis Wilder.”
I grin. “I was going to say pie—did you think I was going to say pussy? Who’s the dirty one now?”
