Chapter 18

“What’s in it?” asked Tristan from behind me. I jumped about a foot. He came and sat beside me on the bed, running his hand over the spread. “So this is where the magic happened,” he mused sardonically. I looked at him with distaste.

“What?” he asked innocently.

I noticed he needed to shave. “Speaking of furry little bastards,” I murmured.

He rubbed his hand over his chin. “Isn’t it great? And you should see down…uh…below. Never mind.”

I swallowed hard. I’d been a rather late bloomer myself. I wasn’t going to say a word. I wasn’t going to laugh either. I hoped. I took my pocket knife out and slit open the envelope, then I gave the knife to Tristan. “Don’t use it on anyone unless you have to,” I warned. “By the way, do you know how to dance? Like, in a cage?”

“Me? A go-go boy? Uh, no, why do you ask?”

Thank God I’d never been a blusher; this poor kid couldn’t lie believably to save his life. “Fake ID?”

“Who told you?”