Page 93 of Crazy Sexy Love (Dirty Dicks 1)
“Whose idea was it to take the class?”
“Linc’s. He used to date a girl who was a chef. We signed up through her.”
“Well, did you learn to cook? Is that why you put in a state-of-the-art kitchen?”
“I did learn to cook—a few things at least. And no, I put in a state-of-the-art kitchen because I was hoping one day I’d marry a woman who would put it to good use.”
“Is that so?” I ask, laughing.
He smiles and nods. “Yup.”
“And what about Linc? Did he learn how to cook?”
“Let’s just say some people shouldn’t be allowed in a kitchen or around a stove.”
“That bad, huh?”
“We made more trips to the emergency room during the course of that class than I have through all of my bull rides—and trust me, there have been many trips caused by the bull.”
I bite my bottom lip. “You’ve had quite a few injuries over the years.”
“How do you know?”
“I follow your career, remember?”
“That’s right. My sexy stalker.”
I swat at his shoulder but miss. “I wasn’t stalking.”
He winks. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”
We’re keeping things light, but I have to ask… “Nothing too serious though, right? I sometimes felt like Coop sugarcoated when he gave me updates.”
“Nah. Nothing too serious.”
Rhett looks away, and that’s how I know he’s lying.
“Tell me.”
He takes a deep breath. “Three concussions. Fractured pelvis. Dislocated shoulder. Rotator cuff strain.” He lifts the offending arm. “A few broken ribs here and there, and a broken wrist.”
I open my mouth to ask him more, but he cuts me off.
“Now it’s your turn. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Nice deflection.”
“Thank you. Answer the question.”
I scrunch my brow, trying to come up with something fun I’ve done in the last six years. “I think you pretty much know everything.”
“Nah. There has to be a wild, crazy story in there somewhere.”
I shake my head. “After dad’s stroke, I buried myself in work. Aside from the occasional beer with Claire and Tess, I haven’t done much—watched movies with Dad, bartended, worked at Animal Haven.” I frown, thinking about all the things I didn’t do. “I’m boring.”
“You’re not boring.”
“Really?” I lift a brow.
