Page 123 of Mr. Flirt

I smiled at Cliff as an unsteady bubbling arose from my belly. I took another bite of artichoke and smiled even wider as my body swayed.

“What do you love to do, Leaf? I mean, Cliff?” I held in a hiccup and snuck a look at Shep.

Shep was wearing a graphic T-shirt that made his biceps look all bulgy.

Wait. Was bulgy a word?

I chuckled to myself. It was when you were in my condition.

I brought my gaze back to Cliff. His navy suit jacket covered his lengthy arms nicely. He probably had agile fingers. I stared at his hands. Long and lean.

Shep’s digits were muscular. Everything about Shep shouted strength and masculinity.

And flirting.

And jokes.

And dares.

I scowled at Cliff.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Realizing I had absolutely no idea what he had said, I shook my head. “No. Sorry. Not at all.”

“So, sailing is always a fun treat,” he continued. “And sometimes, I’ll take Mama out riding. Do you like to ride?”

My eyes widened. “As in horses?”

“Are there other things you can ride?”

I polished off my martini. “Well, yeah. There are snowmobiles, four-wheelers, jet skis, and motorcycles.”

If I were still dating Shep... then Shep.

I hid a smirk. What had gotten into me?

Oh, yeah. Two double martinis in under an hour.

Cliff frowned as if I’d said something ridiculous. Good thing he didn’t know what I was thinking.

He folded his hands and set them on the table as if I were about to get a lecture. “I’m a trauma surgeon. You think I’d get on a motorcycle?”

“Well, I mean, horses aren’t exactly safe either. They are huge creatures.”

“Safer than ATVs and motorbikes.”

I shrugged. “Depends on the situation, I suppose. But if we are to look at life as a set of variables that range from liabilities to assets, then I’d have to assess that most things would fall into the liability category, right? So at that point, you just have to evaluate what your risk level is. Your risk level is horses with a mind of their own.”

He looked confused. “Yeah, I suppose. Do you ride?”

“I’ve ridden horses, but I don’t do it a lot.”

His eyes glinted with excitement. “When was the last time?”

“Umm...” I ate another bit of artichoke. “I’d say about the fifth grade or so.”

“That doesn’t count.” Cliff looked like I’d just socked him in the gut, and I found myself giggling uncontrollably.

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