“Sure.”I’m a liar who likes to dig himself into deep holes to impress a woman.
“Okay.Go.”Said woman waits, arms crossed over her chest, her delicious, sweet scent amplified by her damp hair.
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
I’m screwed.
“Okay.Well, there’s the obvious”—I speak with false confidence—“yellow cheese.”
She pinches her bottom lip, as if in deep thought.“Of course.”
“And, you know … white cheese.”
“Sure,” she responds, deadpan.
“Plus”—I flounder—“nacho cheese.”
Zoey presses her fingers to her mouth, as if concerned.“Uh-huh.”
“And can’t forget”—I talk slowly as my brain scrambles to fill in the blanks—“string.”
“Who would forget that?”Her voice is tight with some kind of emotion.
“Not me.And there you go.Five cheeses.”My relief is short-lived because she shakes her head.
“Nope.That was four.Yellow cheese, white cheese, nacho cheese, and string cheese.”Her slim fingers count each off.“What’s one more type of cheese, Warner?Any type.Any at all.”
My eyes search the room, as if Zoey had put up a poster, listing all the different kinds of cheeses she expects me to know.I have to know the name of some kind of cheese, right?But my mind is a mess, and finally, I mumble the only other cheese-related thing I’m able to pull out of my panicked ass.
“Sorry, what was that?I didn’t catch it.”Zoey leans forward, her eyes sparkling.
I clear my throat and commit to my answer.“Goldfish crackers.”
Silence descends over the cabin, and I try to look confident, even as I worry that I failed a test.
After long seconds tick by, Zoey crosses the few feet separating us, and suddenly, her arms are around my waist, her forehead pressed into my bare chest.And she’s shaking.While I want to bask in the touch of her against my skin, the shaking worries me.
Is she cold again?
“Goldfish—” She chokes on the word, finally tilting her head up to look at me, tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth hanging open in a disbelieving grin.“Crackers?”
She’s laughing.I don’t care that it’s at my expense.Because Zoey’s laughter has recently become my favorite sound in the world.
I affect my most earnest expression.“Aren’t they made of cheese?”
Zoey gasps in delight, then hugs me tight as the hilarity rolls through her.She doesn’t bother to stifle it, and I love that.The wild abandon.She’s glorious and adorable.
Eventually, she pulls away, using a flat hand on my chest to push me toward the couch.
I like where this is going.
But then she backs away.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Zoey scolds, even as her lips fight a smile.
“Like what?”Now, I’m grinning.
