3
" We’d get through this little arrangement of ours better if you didn’t lie to me, Nash.”
“Christ, Dani. I needed to get out of town for a few hours today, okay? Quinn’s got me running so many chores in her mom-wagon, I can feel my balls shrinking in daily increments. So I went to get a little girlie-action. So what? That was never verboten in our agreement. Unless you want to amend your anti-sex-with-me stance?”
I glared at him, not appreciating his suggestion, or the fact that he used Mick as an excuse for girlie-action-getting. “Fine!” He held up his hands in surrender. “I went with Sindy, if you must know.”
“To pick up girls in Atlantic City?”
“No.” He hung his head in shame. “It was a little pony-action. She likes the horse races, okay? It’s just a little embarrassing to say I drove an old lady down there.” I planted my hands on my hips. “Okay, so she drove! I hate the traffic on the turnpike. "
― Jessica Topper , Courtship of the Cake (Much "I Do" About Nothing, #2)
4
" So, Dani . . . is that short for Danielle?” I searched for you, I tried to convey with my eyes. Scoured the Internet for your sister’s wedding announcement, knowing you shared a maiden name. Hunted through the White Pages . . .
“Danica.”
Ah, no wonder. I hoped every Danielle James in the tri-state area would forgive me for cyber-stalking them. It hadn’t occurred to me there might be a variant. “So, um . . . how’d you two meet?” And where? And when? My brain wanted to scream. And why. Why, why, why?
Nash’s arm slid around Dani’s waist, pulling her against his hip. “We met on tour, if you can believe that. She was a damsel in distress.”
Dani gave a cute snort. “You thought I was a groupie in heat.”
“My bad.” Nash gave a shrug and winked in my direction. “I’ll never forget, seeing her out the tour bus window for the first time. She was standing by this old, broken-down van at the side of the road, waving a white lacy thong like a matador—” He butted his forehead against her shoulder, like a big bull come to rut.
“Oh?” I managed, swallowed hard. The espresso I’d had earlier threatened to burn its way back up my throat.
“It wasn’t a thong , you perv!” Dani gave a tug on his long locks. “It was a camisole. And it was the only thing white I had. "
― Jessica Topper , Courtship of the Cake (Much "I Do" About Nothing, #2)
