“Or I’m in a third grave next to your parents?”
“Three? Who digs three separate graves for one killing spree? One mass grave.”
“It wasn’t until I was sixteen that I learned that a blowjob doesn’t involve actual… blowing.”
There was no stopping the snorting laugh that escaped me at that.
“Sixteen? Come on.”
“Hey, not all of us have aunts who own a sex toy store.”
“I told you that?”
“There was a story about… Clitonia?”
There was another of those snorts. “Clitonia and Lil’ Dicky,” I confirmed, shaking my head at that particular memory. “That class was equal parts embarrassing and vitally informative.”
“They still doing classes?”
“You don’t need classes.”
Damn.
I shouldn’t have said that.
His eyes warmed.
And that smile went a little wicked.
“So which ones were they?” I asked.
“Which what?”
“The poems.” Because I’d written some horribly embarrassing ones about a boy I’d had a crush on at the time.
“One was a haiku. The other was about birds.”
I’d taken my poetry studies seriously. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a creative bone in my body.
“So what made you settle on poker?”
“My dad teaching me to play. And me kicking his ass within two days of learning. That’s a high I’ve been chasing ever since.”
“So it’s not about the money?”
“I mean, obviously, the money is a part of it now, since that’s how I’ve made my living. But the money was just a fun side effect, not the whole reason for it. It was always the thrill of the win. And maybe a little bit about the travel. I’ve always had some pretty incurable wanderlust.”
“It’s why you haven’t gotten a place of your own.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Why was I talking to him?
Entertaining his presence?
I should have been telling him to leave, to go back to the city, tosign the damn paperwork.
“So, a little birdie told me that this is your husband!” Kit said as she walked up with Willa at her side.
