There is so, my she-Bear, traitor that she is, rumbles happily.
Rob’s mouth twitches.
“Do you want ice cream or not?” I snap.
“Yeah, Cookie, I want ice cream.”
“What flavor?”
He shrugs one shoulder.
“Whatever you recommend.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Oh, I recommend something.”
Tommy whispers, “Uh oh.”
I spin and march over to the display case.
Let’s see…
Mint chip.
Salted caramel.
Chocolate fudge.
And then I find it.
Perfect.
I grab the tub labeled Firecracker Chili Chocolate.
Very popular with customers who enjoy hidden consequences.
I scoop a generous mound into a waffle cone, sprinkle it liberally with some of my special cayenne sprinkles, and I slam it down in front of him.
“There.”
Rob picks it up.
Sniffs it.
“Chocolate?”
“Chocolate,” I say sweetly.
“And there’s something else,” he whispers, sniffing again.
Reg leans in and whispers loudly, “That one’s spicy.”
Rob glances at him.
Then at me.
“I can handle spicy.”
