Page 16 of Gin and Lava

Naomi turns to me and leans against the pickup with a sly smile on her face. “I don’t look like the kind of woman who’d own something like this?”

I gesture to Naomi’s silver heels and blue dress. “Honestly,” I say, having to grab the edge of the truck to keep myself steady. “This looks like the kind of truck you lost your virginity in when you were in high school.”

“Oh yeah?” She pops her hip, her tone getting sassy. “What if this is theexact truckI lost my virginity in when I was in high school? Huh?”

I peek into the bed of the truck. It’s definitely older and seen its share of use.

“Did you grow up here, or are you from the mainland?” I ask, trying to determine if she’s making this up.

“Mainland.”

“Well Naomi, it turns out I may be gullible as fuck,” I say, pointing to the truck bed. “But shipping this behemoth to Hawaii because you’re sentimental about some football star you lost your cherry to is insane. Certifiably insane.”

“Certifiable, huh? Do you have the credentials to back that up?” Naomi asks, a haughtiness infiltrating her stance. I can feel her digging her heels in, ready to turn stubborn on this topic. Which is odd. It’s just a truck.

“Yeah,” I say, poking the bull. “It’s called common sense.”

“I think common sense went out the window the moment you got drunk.”

“I’m not so wasted that I don’t know that it would cost you a fortune to ship this thing from the mainland,” I toss back. “If you were really that hung up on the football star, you probably should’ve married him when you graduated high school. Not that the guy who popped your cherry was any good in bed.”

I eye Naomi to see if she gives anything away on that front, but she just shrugs, like we all know losing your virginity isn’t an exercise is good sex.

“Yeah, I call bullshit,” I say finally. “You don’t even own this truck, do you? You’re just messing with my head.”

“That would be too easy,” she says with a flirty smile.

“Wrong head,” I throw back, nodding to my crotch, which gains me a sexy smirk. I’m not used to women like Naomi thinking I’m amusing. I’m not Connor with his fancy vocabulary and his I-used-to-be-a-lawyer wit. I say dirty shit, and usually, I get smacked for it. But Naomi’s being surprisingly generous.

“You’re right, I didn’t ship this truck from the mainland,” Naomi agrees. “But maybe, I bought it here, because I like trucks.”

She pulls out a pair of keys from her dainty purse.

“You like two-hundred-dollar shoes and glittery things.” I point to her attire again, but then she unlocks the driver-side door and pulls it open. “Shit, you really own this?”

“I guess I’m an enigma, Mason,” she says, nodding for me to get in the passenger seat. “Just like you.”

“I’m not an enema-whatever.”

“Enigma,” she repeats. “It means you’re a mystery.”

“I don’t think you know what that word means if you think me and mystery should be used in the same sentence. I’m the simplest, easiest-to-read asshole there is.” I walk around to the passenger side of the red monstrosity. “Nothing about me is interesting or secretive.” I climb into the cab, which requires the use of the oh-shit bar and significant effort to heave myself up. “Damn,” I compliment. “This thing is huge!”

“That’s what she said,” Naomi tosses back, giving me a knowing smile. “That’show you’re supposed to use the ‘that’s what she said’ line.”

“Is that so?” I reply, pulling off my suit coat and throwing it on the dash. “I didn’t know you had such a big dick, Naomi. You just strike me as—”

“The pretty, demure, princess-next-door type?”

“You’re going to have to avoid the big fancy words when you’re around me, sweetheart. Enemas and manure aren’t my thing.”

“Demure,” she corrects. “That means modest. Shy.”

“Well you’ve definitely got the princess part down,” I say. “Cause, I know that dress ain’t from Walmart. As for the modest part”—I gesture to the rather revealing front of her gown—“the cut of that thing might beg to differ in the manure department.”

“Demure.”

“Modesty, cow dung.” I shrug. “Same difference.” I rub my temples. “But yes, the truck is surprising.”