true. I am a calm, rational, realistic person.”
“Who took me to a strip club for drag queens on a first date.”
At that, Kristen did nearly swallow her gum. After waiting a second to see if he was kidding—nope—she turned around and stared through the rear windshield at the club clientele. Then she checked out the posters on the side of the building. Oh. By gumbies, he was right. Something she would have noticed if she hadn’t been so intent on bombshell dropping. She turned back around. “Well, I don’t like to be predictable.”
“Predictability is not one of your problems.” Mitch pulled a U-turn and headed back toward the ritzier section of Richmond.
“Are you saying I have problems?”
“Yes, but they’re very attractive problems.”
She knew he expected her to ask him what those problems were, but she wouldn’t, not while he was ignoring the whole ownership-of-the-club issue.
“Where are we going?” she asked instead.
“To the nearest fast-food drive-through of your choice.”
“What?”
He tossed a look her way. “You’re not dressed for much else.”
“So, you’re, like, punishing me? Aren’t you Mr. Prude.” She crossed her arms and chewed her gum.
“This isn’t a summer picnic in Sugar Land. It’s a Friday night in December in an iffy part of Houston.” He glanced over at her. “Nice pout by the way.”
He was on to her. She might as well admit it. “Thanks. You don’t think the lower lip is too much?”
“The lip is great. I’m not so sold on the gum.”
“You know, I wasn’t either. But when I found the tutti-fruitti flavor, I just had to go for it.”
“Naturally.” He made a snarky sound.
“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter.” Kristen dug in her purse for the discarded wrapper and stuck the wad of gum into it. “I didn’t fool you at all, did I?”
“You had your moments. And I applaud your choice of costume. Feel free to try out any more like that.”
Kristen was slightly mollified. Okay, a lot mollified. But not if they were going to eat fast food. “Are you still going to make me eat fast food?”
Mitch waved negligently. “They all have salads now.”
Oh, they did, did they? “Are you intimating that I need a salad?”
“Everybody should eat salad.”
“While that is true, one doesn’t usually head for monuments to grease and salt to buy one.”
“I plan to go for the grease and salt, myself.”
“Which you no doubt planned to eat in front of me after forcing me to order a bunch of lettuce?”
“Are you trying to pick a fight with me?” He didn’t sound perturbed at all. If anything, he sounded highly entertained.
She’d lost her touch. Maybe she’d never had a touch.Kristen needed a stronger reaction to play against. How was she supposed to work up any believable anger if Mitch wouldn’t help her out? “It is very difficult to pick a fight with you. It’s one of my best distracting maneuvers, too.” She threw in a regretful sigh. “In this case, the plan was that if we got mad at each other, you’d take me home and I could get some real food.”
He grinned and something—certainly not food—warmed in Kristen’s middle.
“If you promise to wear your dad’s jacket, I’ll take you to a place with nice big booths and you can show me what you found out about me.”
Deny or not to deny. That was the question. “What makes you think…” She trailed off as he rolled his eyes at her.
“Your purse—if you can call that thing a purse. I’ve got suitcases that are smaller. Anyway, your purse rustles. If there is one thing I know, it’s the sound of paper rustling.”
“Oh.” So it was the props and not the acting. Yes, she’d stuffed her purse with printouts and notes and Web addresses. Since she wasn’t sure what the significance of it all was she’d brought everything.
And Mitch didn’t seem the slightest bit curious. If anything, he seemed amused. After the Tutti Fruitti incident, she could hardly
“Who took me to a strip club for drag queens on a first date.”
At that, Kristen did nearly swallow her gum. After waiting a second to see if he was kidding—nope—she turned around and stared through the rear windshield at the club clientele. Then she checked out the posters on the side of the building. Oh. By gumbies, he was right. Something she would have noticed if she hadn’t been so intent on bombshell dropping. She turned back around. “Well, I don’t like to be predictable.”
“Predictability is not one of your problems.” Mitch pulled a U-turn and headed back toward the ritzier section of Richmond.
“Are you saying I have problems?”
“Yes, but they’re very attractive problems.”
She knew he expected her to ask him what those problems were, but she wouldn’t, not while he was ignoring the whole ownership-of-the-club issue.
“Where are we going?” she asked instead.
“To the nearest fast-food drive-through of your choice.”
“What?”
He tossed a look her way. “You’re not dressed for much else.”
“So, you’re, like, punishing me? Aren’t you Mr. Prude.” She crossed her arms and chewed her gum.
“This isn’t a summer picnic in Sugar Land. It’s a Friday night in December in an iffy part of Houston.” He glanced over at her. “Nice pout by the way.”
He was on to her. She might as well admit it. “Thanks. You don’t think the lower lip is too much?”
“The lip is great. I’m not so sold on the gum.”
“You know, I wasn’t either. But when I found the tutti-fruitti flavor, I just had to go for it.”
“Naturally.” He made a snarky sound.
“Oh, get your mind out of the gutter.” Kristen dug in her purse for the discarded wrapper and stuck the wad of gum into it. “I didn’t fool you at all, did I?”
“You had your moments. And I applaud your choice of costume. Feel free to try out any more like that.”
Kristen was slightly mollified. Okay, a lot mollified. But not if they were going to eat fast food. “Are you still going to make me eat fast food?”
Mitch waved negligently. “They all have salads now.”
Oh, they did, did they? “Are you intimating that I need a salad?”
“Everybody should eat salad.”
“While that is true, one doesn’t usually head for monuments to grease and salt to buy one.”
“I plan to go for the grease and salt, myself.”
“Which you no doubt planned to eat in front of me after forcing me to order a bunch of lettuce?”
“Are you trying to pick a fight with me?” He didn’t sound perturbed at all. If anything, he sounded highly entertained.
She’d lost her touch. Maybe she’d never had a touch.Kristen needed a stronger reaction to play against. How was she supposed to work up any believable anger if Mitch wouldn’t help her out? “It is very difficult to pick a fight with you. It’s one of my best distracting maneuvers, too.” She threw in a regretful sigh. “In this case, the plan was that if we got mad at each other, you’d take me home and I could get some real food.”
He grinned and something—certainly not food—warmed in Kristen’s middle.
“If you promise to wear your dad’s jacket, I’ll take you to a place with nice big booths and you can show me what you found out about me.”
Deny or not to deny. That was the question. “What makes you think…” She trailed off as he rolled his eyes at her.
“Your purse—if you can call that thing a purse. I’ve got suitcases that are smaller. Anyway, your purse rustles. If there is one thing I know, it’s the sound of paper rustling.”
“Oh.” So it was the props and not the acting. Yes, she’d stuffed her purse with printouts and notes and Web addresses. Since she wasn’t sure what the significance of it all was she’d brought everything.
And Mitch didn’t seem the slightest bit curious. If anything, he seemed amused. After the Tutti Fruitti incident, she could hardly
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