His eyebrows shot up. “‘Blowing it’ doesn’t sound like something I’d do. Are we sure it wasn’t your fault?”
Damn him. Only one option. I emptied the rest of my frozen malt in his lap. Accidentally. His leaping, curse-filled, crotch-swiping modern dance was the best thing that had happened to me all day. Perhaps it was childish. I blamed the bunny slippers.
This is actually pretty funny, toeing over the top but meshing w/ my own warped humor, so far. I'm firmly buckled in for the ride now!