She thrust her fingers through her hair and turned in a slow circle, muttering somethingto herself about arrogant flyers and military clubs.
“Hope you’ve got an after-school job to pay for the damage,” he added.
He was certain she wasn’t a college kid, but if she wanted to call him an LT and suggest Juice Box was the boss, he’d happily question her maturity too.
Huh. Maybe meeting her wasn’t about getting laid and getting over Allison. Maybe it was about finding some fun in life again.
“What is that god-awful smell?” She paused and stepped closer to him, sniffing. “It’syou. You’re drunk as a skunk. Raise my hand to sweet baby Jesus, if you’re this obnoxious drunk, I’m glad I never got to know you sober.”
“You killed a keg, agoodkeg, with good beer in it, and you think I’m the one not worth knowing tonight?”
“Mildred is akeg? Who names a keg?No, wait. Never mind. Suppose every man wants his girlfriend to have a name.”
“Want ’em to be sane too. You must be lonely.”
“You keep talking, I’m gonna start thinking you must be lookin’ to have a pumpkin aimed up somewhere the sun don’t shine.”
Had Allison ever been this hot over anything? He couldn’t remember. But he knew one thing—he was having a damn hard time stifling a grin. “Lady, you’ve got problems.”
“Sure do. And most of ’em are penis-carrying members of the military. Tell you what,CaptainWheeler, you go on and send me a bill for that keg of beer.Dr.Kaci Boudreaux, James Robert College, Physics Department. And leave the pumpkin-chucking to us professionals.”
She was a piece of work. A pompous, overeducated piece of work with the ripest breasts and the hottest mouth this side ofthe Mason-Dixon Line. “Where I come from, the rednecks are more qualified to chuck pumpkins than the professors.”
“Ah. You must be from Alabama.”
“If byfrom Alabama, you mean where smart, sane people come from, then yes, I’m from Alabama. Proudly.”
“Nothing sane about rednecks, but I got both redneck, smart,andsane covered, sugar. If nohuman beingswere injured, then excuse me. My apologies to your sweetMildred. And have no fear—I’m picking a different cornfield next time.”
She turned and swung those sweet hips, marching away in her shitkickers, and he had a crazy urge to follow her and kiss the priss right out of her.
But unlike her, he still had his sanity, so he turned his back on her and jogged back to the guys.
The keg had stopped bubbling over. Hisfriends were squatting around the pumpkin slop.
But instead of mourning, they looked downright intrigued.
“That’s the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen,” one of the guys said.
“Not the weirdest, but up there,” Pony agreed.
“What?” Lance asked.
They all burst out laughing.
Juice Box pointed to the slimy mess and shone a flashlight into the middle of it.
A cracked and bent pair of BCGs were nestled in the center.
Lance glanced back toward whereDr.Kaci Boudreaux had marched off.
That girl truly did have issues.
And he had a masochistic desire to dig into them.
That blonde was a bad idea.
But he’d spent most of his life chasinggood ideas. Maybe a bad idea was exactly what he needed.
