‘Sheep.’ I clear my throat and gesture to the window where the snow has begun to pile on the other side of the glass. ‘You said there are only sheep out there.’
‘And hills.’ His body seems to relax, his movements more languid, though spying the hint of action in a certain vicinity of his jeans does nothing for my concentration. ‘A bit of fishing. Hiking. That kind of stuff. There’s a village a few miles down the road, but for the most part, the cottage is remote.’
‘Secluded.’
‘No TV and no internet. Nothing to do in the snow.’
‘Well, there is one thing,’ I answer, dragging the Scrabble board closer with my toes.
‘I thought you were never gonnae offer.’ He makes as though to loosen his fly, choosing not to see my suggestion.
‘Oh, I’m sure there would be plenty ofmanual lovegoing on had I not arrived.’
A burst of deep laughter breaks free from my chest before he continues with the threat of losing his pants.
‘You wanna watch?’
‘No thanks. Just because you don’t have a TV doesn’t mean I want to watch you masturbate.’
‘Ah, darlin’.’ The look he gives me turns my inside to goo again, and that’s without his upcoming compliment. ‘You, my gorgeous creature, are one of a kind.’
‘You’re just saying that because we’ve had sex.’ I lift the bottle to my lips.
‘And I’d keep on saying it just to have sex again.’
Beer does not taste as good coming out of your nose as it does going down your throat.
‘You have got to stop doing that!’ I say, wiping under my nose, then swatting his chest for good measure.
‘What did I do?’
‘Stop making me laugh. I mean it!’
‘So I shouldn’t tell you the one about the dyslexic satanist?’
‘Why would you ask me that? Now you have to tell me!’
‘He sold his soul to Santa.’
‘Greg,thatwas really bad.’
