We both get in, and now I’m frustrated with him again. “Can we just get back home. I’m getting hangry.” I almost pout, and it’s all completely true. Tiny pastries only get you so far. His face remains passive as a response.
We drive only a few minutes and then Keats turns the steering wheel so sharply that it causes me to hold onto the door.
“Easy. I would like to be alive tomorrow,” I scold him.
“You said you were hangry.” Adjusting to my surroundings, I see that we are at a fast-food place with a drive-thru that he’s already approaching. “Burger and fries or nuggets?” He sounds easy as a breeze. “A milkshake is probably in order too. Can chill down your body that’s probably hot and bothered.”
I huff and hold in my grumble. “You are such a piece of work. And no, I don’t want a shake,” I mock him. “I want one of those apple pie thingies that are really like strudel in a cardboard box.”
“Good choice. So, am I ordering for you on the actual dinner part?”
My eyes flutter as I try to take in what is happening. I hate how my need for food outweighs anything on the planet now. “Nuggets with honey mustard sauce. Onion rings instead of fries.”
Keats places our order, and he hands me the bag of food while he balances placing the drinks in the cupholders in the middle of the car. Instead of being on our merry way, he drives straight into a parking spot up ahead and turns the engine off.
“If you wanted to stay here, then why not just go inside?”
He begins to open the bag on my lap. “One, because you have this dress on that is far too formal for inside. Two, I’m so fucking hungry that I can’t think straight, and it’s my cheat day.”
It causes me to laugh instantly and relax because he has been holding it in to play it chill. “But now your dear car will smell of food,” I tease him.
He turns his body halfway to face me. “I’ll take it tomorrow to be serviced and cleaned.”
Biting into a nugget, I can’t help pointing it out. “That’ssuch a you thing to say. I know lawyers can make a lot of money, but now you are just showing a little arrogance.”
“Except you know that I’m not that bad.” Dare I say, there is half a smile on his face.
My hand ducks into the bag to pull out a fry.
“Hey! Stealing my fries? You said onion rings,” he jokes.
“What are you going to do? Spank me?” Crap. I responded too quickly without filtering my inner thoughts.
Keats now seems completely entertained. “Such a filthy mind you have. But if you steal my fries then I will have a bite of your pie, the one in the bag, if you needed clarity on that. Since you never bake me one, then this is something close.”
Now I wave a nugget at him. “You’re nowhere near getting on the list to be a recipient of my baked creations. So, okay, you can steal some of my food if I can get a sip of your shake.”
“Your mouth will be where mine has been.” He flashes his eyes at me.
A calmness fills the car from our repartee, and we seem to be able to eat in peace.
“Your colleagues or rather the people from the Spinners organization seem nice. Definitely a lot more relaxed than I would expect.”
“I can’t complain, but I only see most of them at events or when I take a break. Since I’m dealing with confidential information then I’m always behind a closed door or negotiating with sports agents or other teams. You? How long does it take to edit photos or how does it work?”
Leaning down, I sip on his straw without lifting the cup. I peer up to him to taunt him in a playful way, and it only makes him grin. The coolness from the drink is quite refreshing. “No way in hell would I expect you to go for strawberry instead of chocolate.”
He adjusts his shoulders and feigns pride on his face. “Gotta keep it healthy and unexpected.”
Stifling a laugh, I answer his question. “Normally editing takes a week, but I like to send some first-look photos a day or two after a shoot.”
“But never wedding photography? The Dizzy Duck where my sister works seems to have weddings all the time.”
“Nah, with wedding festivities it’s a long day, or rather the pressure to get the angles and edits right is not my ideal workload. Nobody wants to be on the receiving end of an angry newlywed bride.”
“Yet, you like to be on the other end of your neighbor’s wrath.”
With purpose, I hold up one of his fries. “No comment.”
