Hold up.
Back up.
Did you say taste?
…
Are we talking metaphorically tasted? Or have her thighs on your shoulders and your tongue halfway toheaven taste?
Let’s just say she’s been on my mind.
Okay wow.
I’m gonna need a minute.
You’re supposed to be talking me off the ledge, giving me a reason to NOT knock on her door and make her hate me a little less.
You’re the one that opened the gates of horny hell. Give me a second to process.
Tell me I’m an idiot. That she’s off-limits. That I need to walk away.
You’re an idiot.
She’s off-limits.
You need to walk away.
But you won’t.
No.
No. I won’t.
CHAPTER 16
THE BREW BEFORE THE STORM
RORIE
I bring news from the edge of civilization. I have survived. Barely.
JEREMY. WHAT. We’ve been trying to reach you all weekend. Maya was two hours from hiring a psychic and a sniffer dog.
I apologize for my silence. I’ve been detained by the Canadian government. Dr. Fiddlestorm III may or may not be listed as a public threat in Ontario.
WHAT DID YOU DO?
Technically? Nothing illegal. Emotionally? Several things I’m not proud of. One involved a karaoke machine, a goose, and a maple syrup martini. Don’t ask.
You promised no more international discord.
You promised to stop judging my self-expression. Here we are. Tell Maya I love her and that customs confiscated my dignity.
You’re buying lattes and explaining everything. Also, she’s still mad.
Fair. I’ll bring emotional support pastries.
The espresso machineshrieks like it’s dying a violent, overly dramatic death.
