Chapter 19

“No, T-rod.” I hadn’t called him that in many years, but it just came out, male bonding and all. “Seriously, it’s…fucking hot,” I whispered.

“Good. Glad you like it.”

“Maybe we add…” I took a pen from the holder by the cash register and wrote on the bottom of the sketchpad. “Those words…in red icing?”

“Subtle.”

“Too much? Not romantic enough? Add a heart, maybe…or make it more poetic.”

“A lot of words do rhyme with fuck.”

I got stuck after one.

“You’re thinking ‘suck,’ aren’t you?”

I felt myself blush. “Never mind.”

“No…The customer’s always right, even when he’s a pervert.” The flick of Troy’s dishtowel stung my bare hand. “I think I can fit that on there. I’ll whip it up probably this weekend and will definitely have it ready for delivery…” He had to stop to yawn again. “Or pick-up.”

“You need sleep,” I said.

“Don’t I know it? Our hours get extended, just like yours this time of year.”