Page 22 of Lavender Lake
His change in conversation gave me whiplash. “What question would that be? About my father’s girlfriend? I thought we weren’t going to talk about that until after I’d been sedated with poutine.”
“Not that. You never answered whyyoudon’t have a boyfriend.”
I raised my brows. “When did you ask me that?”
“We were at the airport and Brock asked you. You never said why.”
“And you’re still thinking about it?”
“Clearly.”
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” I fired back.
“Who says I don’t?”
“Because if you did, you’d be the lowest form of life on this planet for cheating on her.”
He cracked a grin. “No argument there. Cheating is a character flaw I do not have.”
“How reassuring,” I drawled.
“Itshouldbe reassuring,” he insisted. “If someone is a cheater, what’s to stop them from cheating at business? Or being a shit friend?”
“Valid,” I admitted. “So, no girlfriend?”
“No. Now answer my question.”
“Say the magic word.”
“Spank.”
A huff of a laugh escaped my lips. “I don’t have a boyfriend because I don’t want a boyfriend. Happy?”
“Hmm. What’s your type?”
“I don’t have a type.”
“Everyone has a type.”
I reached for my soda. “I’m twenty-three. Everyone is my type.”
“Twenty-three. God damn, that’s young.”
I wrinkled my nose. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-four.”
“Not old enough to be an antique, but definitely vintage,” I quipped.
“Some of the shine has definitely rubbed off,” he joked.
“Thirty-four . . . and you’re still bull riding.”
“Borrowed time,” he stated. “Hate to say it, but I’m one major injury away from retirement. It’s why I took a brand deal.”
“What kind of brand deal?” I asked. “Cigarettes? Liquor? Clothing?”
“Coffee, actually. Have you ever heard of Cowboy Coffee?”
