He grinned. “You would rather talk about my childhood than listen to country music?”
I nodded.
Busted.
He reached behind his head and grabbed his neck, rolling his head to the side. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll answer three questions about my life and no more country music, if you give me two cupcakes.”
“Two!” I guarded the cupcakes with my hands. “One. You’ll spoil your lunch.”
He side-eyed me. “I could eat all twelve of those cupcakes and still have a full plate of fried chicken with all the fixins.”
“Barf. You’re a garbage disposal.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Reaching out, he flicked on the country music, louder than before, and settled back into the seat.
Motherfucker!
“Fine!” I snapped. Smashing the power button, I reached down to pull out two cupcakes.
“They’re maple pecan and ba—” Before I’d finished, he plucked one from my hand and shoved it into his mouth, taking half of it down with one bite.
He moaned. “We should sell these.”
I crossed my arms. “Yeah, sure. I have time to cookandbake.”
“What’s the difference?” he spoke through muffled bites.
I just glared at him. I wasn’t going to touch that question. “Three questions. Did you grow up around here?” I held the last cupcake hostage in my hands.
He was silent a moment while he finished the rest of the cupcake. “I grew up on my granny’s farm, which we’re going to right now.”
Farm boy. That made total sense.
“Did you go to college around here too?” Yes, that was my vague way of wondering how educated he was.
He side-eyed me and snatched the second cupcake, shoving it into his mouth. “Tennessee State University. Majored in finance, minored in business. Imma smart boy.” He said the last sentence with a thick Tennessee drawl.
My eyes bugged out of my head. “You got a degree in finance? And your bar is failing?”
I could feel him glaring at me as I watched the road. “Last question,Princess.”
Damn. I needed this to be a good one. “Ever been married?”
I braced myself for something dark to cross his features, something to indicate he’d lost someone as I had. But it never came.
He just waved me off. “Nah. Not my thing.”
I could see that. Coming home to the same woman day after day would probably drive him crazy. I reached out to turn the radio back on, when he spoke.
“You from New York?”
My hand fell to my lap. Okay, he was being a decent human being and wanted to know about me. “Connecticut. Moved to the city for culinary school, then spent a semester in Paris.”
He nodded. “Fancy.”
“Something like that.” Colin had followed me out there, we had the best three months of our life in France. Backpacking through small villages, eating at bed and breakfasts, they were some of my favorite memories of him.
“I’m surprised you’re not married,” he observed. “House. Two point five kids and all that. You seem like the type.”
