Page 9 of Hunted: Season Two

There’s no hiding the hungry moan the words ignite.

Maybe I should do that now?

Maybe I should hop onto this table and let him eatmewhile I eat what hemade me?

That seems like a win, win for everyone.

I bet if I double crunched those numbers that’s exactly what they’d say.

“Be a good girl,” my gearhead deliciously purrs, “and keep eating for me.”

It’s impossible not to initially pout; however, when there’s an audible grumble from my stomach to reiterate his point, I’m met with a cocky smirk.

Ugh.

How is he a balanced spreadsheet?

How can one person be so sweetandso smug?

He needs a personality audit.

I need a little more information on how he got this…wonderful,and if maybe I’m missing some data.

Perhaps he took an online Casanova course?

They probably have those.

They have everything else online.

“Back to the cake discussion,” I huff at the same time I break off another portion.

“No discussion,” Kipp casually insists on a shrug of his shoulders. “And no cake.”

“Yes cake.”

“No cake.”

“Yes cake.”

“No cake.”

“You’re gonna make me break out my inner Rhi Rhi and then the only thing that’s gettin’ eaten isme.” The snarky retort is finished with an even sassier swallowing of food that prompts him to warmly chuckle. “So,Lightning McQueen-”

“You know I don’t like those movies.”

“-tell me-”

“I almost find them offensive.”

“-what type of birthday cake you want-”

“More offensive than you trying to classifyRobotixas a car cartoon.”

“-before I conspire with our boyfriend to get you aCarsthemed one out of spite.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Another bite of my omelet is extended in his direction on a sarcastic stare.

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