“She hardly came from a cave, Finn.”
I shrugged. “Don’t be classist, Aoife.”
She stuck out her tongue. “You know she’s old if she callsyou‘young man.’”
“Well, that’s nice!”
Her grin made an appearance. “I can’t believe you called her a C-U-N-T!”
“Mommy, what’s a See You En Tee?”
“That’s what you pick up on?” Aoife cried, aghast.
I hooted. “Don’t complain.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Fair enough.”
“It’s just a joke, kiddo,” I told him, just so he’d return to his cartoon.
Curving an arm around those slumped shoulders, I hauled her into me and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “This time of the year, love’s what matters most, no?”
“True.” She pulled a face. “We did kiss for quite a while, and I maybe,probablymoaned louder than I thought?—”
“Not long enough and not loud enough for me. This isn’t 1843, baby. Jesus Christ. From her reaction, you’d think I shoved you onto the fridge and started eating you out!”
Her blush resurged. “Later?”
I snickered. “If mywifewishes.”
She wafted a hand in front of her face, amusement and heat glinting in her eyes. “Right. Shopping. I still have loads to buy. Potatoes and broccoli and?—”
“Why didn’t we get this online again? I could kiss you in the kitchen without being accosted by octogenarians who need to get laid.” I tapped my finger on the cart’s handle. “I know a good gigolo service. Maybe that’s what her poor family should buy her for Christmas? I’m sure they do gift cards.”
Aoife, midway through sorting out herbs in a pile, turned to gawk at me. “Why do you know that?”
When she pointed to a bag in a bucket, I hefted the potatoes into the cart then nudged the Karen’s aside when it got in our way. “Think about what my brothers do, Aoife.” Her eyes flared. “Don’t be sexist either.”
“Finn!”
“What? Only women can do sex work and not men?”
Her mouth did a great impression of a puffer fish’s.
“Remember that expression later,” I teased. “Looks like a good time.”
She whacked my Vicuña winter coat with a bunch of what smelled like parsley. “You did not say that!”
“I live to tease.”
She squinted at me. “Why do you know these gigolos?”
“I don’t. I knowofthem. That’s not my bag. Why are you asking? Is my performance not up to snuff? Here was me thinking an orgasm a day kept thegigolosaway?—”
“This is what I mean! These two delinquents are disgraceful. Discussing such intimate,privatetopics in public. I demand you do something about it!”
The squawking drew my attention yet again, and when I glanced over my shoulder and found the old bitch and the discomfited manager, I merely raised a brow.
The man’s eyes darted over to Aoife who, of course, blushed again—redhead’s curse.
