What is happy, happy to me?
Taking the day and shopping for a new truck for Honey. Nothing spells no stress, peace and serenity better than that…NOT! Especially when the ride begins with me sliding into the passenger seat of MY car as he says, “I had to dust the dash and the gear shift. Don’t you ever clean it?”
There’s me thinking. Hm. That would be a no because I don’t wear my glasses when I’m driving so I doubt I’d see the fly-specks like you just did. But I don’t say anything out loud as this is going to be a long ride so I wanted the journey to start off nice. I know I’m thoughtful like that. J
But then—I feel like one of those infomercial guys saying but wait there’s more—we’re not even a mile from the house and I’m adjusting the AC because I’m frying my ass off. Literally. After another few minutes I had to complain.
Shifting in my seat I gripe, “What the hell? Is this AC working? I’m boiling to death here.”
Honey doesn’t even look my way when he quips, “Hot flash.”
I think, F U, but I refrain once again and shake my head. “No seriously. It’s like…” I look down and gasp. It would seem Mr. Clean with his ‘dusting’ hit the button with the seat heater. It’s ninety degrees outside people, so I was already sweating and now this? I won’t repeat what I said, but Honey’s response to my tirade was:
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Relax it was an accident.”
And there I was steaming all over again. Then. THEN. We’re sitting in traffic and all I can smell is diesel fuel. I hate smelling exhaust fumes in the car so that would be why I put my AC on interior circulation. There’s me checking the button and? Mr. Clean struck again. He’d depressed the button. Actually all my settings were screwed up. Honey had only been in my car for less than a minute before I got into it and he’d managed to reset nearly everything. Now that takes talent. And there I was just mulling that over. Looking out the window. Thinking about how I needed to calm myself down when we stop at a red light and I hear him say.
“Oh yeah, babe. I love it when you do that.”
I snap my head around. “What?”
He grins and looks down between us. “You’re rubbing my knob.”
That’s when I notice I was absently stroking the gear shift while I was ‘thinking”. His knob? Funny. There he was doing the male equivalent on heheheh which sounds more like a husky harharhar when I flicked my hair behind a shoulder and look up.
“That would be MY knob and if you’re not more careful with my settings, I’ll be stroking it for the rest of the week without you.”
His grin never wavered, but his eyes went all dark when he whispered, “I thought I was always careful with your settings.”
I’m not gonna lie. He had me, but I didn’t want him to know it. “Not always.”
“Really?”
I shrug. Not sure about what I’m half ass admitting to at this point.
The light turns green and he starts driving again. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
I have absolutely no idea why as I don’t really know what we’re talking about. But never one to jump ship I say, “You’re driving my car.”
He does that one forearm over the steering wheel while he leans back in that guy comfortable in the driver’s seat fashion. “Yes and you just threatened to drive my car for the rest of the week so you can forget about it.”
*Blink, blink* I’m an automobile? I had to ask, “Did you just refer to me as an automobile?”
One corner of his mouth tipped up in a grin, but he never took his eyes off the road when he said, “Not just any automobile. You’re my classy, one of a kind ride with sexy curves and lines that can handle being driven hard and fast or slow and easy. A beautiful classic that I’ve spent years customizing so I don’t like anyone touching it but me.”
The frigging guy! I didn’t know what to say. I was almost speechless, but then I studied his ever widening grin and it occurred to me this was exactly what he wanted me to be. Nevah!
It was hard not to laugh when I breezed through these words, “Great. Then you know how I feel. Keep your grimy paws off my baby’s settings.”
The look he gave me? Priceless with a capital P! But then when he went one better and tried to explain how his whole car thing was analogy? I nearly cried laughing so all-in-all the trip wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I mean it could have been worse. He could have compared me to a jalopy or something.
Riley
Hey you wanna see another portion of my cover for A Perfect Holiday? Scroll down.
There’s me thinking. Hm. That would be a no because I don’t wear my glasses when I’m driving so I doubt I’d see the fly-specks like you just did. But I don’t say anything out loud as this is going to be a long ride so I wanted the journey to start off nice. I know I’m thoughtful like that. J
But then—I feel like one of those infomercial guys saying but wait there’s more—we’re not even a mile from the house and I’m adjusting the AC because I’m frying my ass off. Literally. After another few minutes I had to complain.
Shifting in my seat I gripe, “What the hell? Is this AC working? I’m boiling to death here.”
Honey doesn’t even look my way when he quips, “Hot flash.”
I think, F U, but I refrain once again and shake my head. “No seriously. It’s like…” I look down and gasp. It would seem Mr. Clean with his ‘dusting’ hit the button with the seat heater. It’s ninety degrees outside people, so I was already sweating and now this? I won’t repeat what I said, but Honey’s response to my tirade was:
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Relax it was an accident.”
And there I was steaming all over again. Then. THEN. We’re sitting in traffic and all I can smell is diesel fuel. I hate smelling exhaust fumes in the car so that would be why I put my AC on interior circulation. There’s me checking the button and? Mr. Clean struck again. He’d depressed the button. Actually all my settings were screwed up. Honey had only been in my car for less than a minute before I got into it and he’d managed to reset nearly everything. Now that takes talent. And there I was just mulling that over. Looking out the window. Thinking about how I needed to calm myself down when we stop at a red light and I hear him say.
“Oh yeah, babe. I love it when you do that.”
I snap my head around. “What?”
He grins and looks down between us. “You’re rubbing my knob.”
That’s when I notice I was absently stroking the gear shift while I was ‘thinking”. His knob? Funny. There he was doing the male equivalent on heheheh which sounds more like a husky harharhar when I flicked my hair behind a shoulder and look up.
“That would be MY knob and if you’re not more careful with my settings, I’ll be stroking it for the rest of the week without you.”
His grin never wavered, but his eyes went all dark when he whispered, “I thought I was always careful with your settings.”
I’m not gonna lie. He had me, but I didn’t want him to know it. “Not always.”
“Really?”
I shrug. Not sure about what I’m half ass admitting to at this point.
The light turns green and he starts driving again. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
I have absolutely no idea why as I don’t really know what we’re talking about. But never one to jump ship I say, “You’re driving my car.”
He does that one forearm over the steering wheel while he leans back in that guy comfortable in the driver’s seat fashion. “Yes and you just threatened to drive my car for the rest of the week so you can forget about it.”
*Blink, blink* I’m an automobile? I had to ask, “Did you just refer to me as an automobile?”
One corner of his mouth tipped up in a grin, but he never took his eyes off the road when he said, “Not just any automobile. You’re my classy, one of a kind ride with sexy curves and lines that can handle being driven hard and fast or slow and easy. A beautiful classic that I’ve spent years customizing so I don’t like anyone touching it but me.”
The frigging guy! I didn’t know what to say. I was almost speechless, but then I studied his ever widening grin and it occurred to me this was exactly what he wanted me to be. Nevah!
It was hard not to laugh when I breezed through these words, “Great. Then you know how I feel. Keep your grimy paws off my baby’s settings.”
The look he gave me? Priceless with a capital P! But then when he went one better and tried to explain how his whole car thing was analogy? I nearly cried laughing so all-in-all the trip wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. I mean it could have been worse. He could have compared me to a jalopy or something.
Riley
Hey you wanna see another portion of my cover for A Perfect Holiday? Scroll down.
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