“And how terrible of you to have bad thoughts about your wife.” Her words make me groan, not just because of how she said that, but because of the images it paints in my mind too. “Come on, Tink, don’t say it like that.” Her smile is innocent, her eyes are anything but, as she asks, “Like what?” I flick my stare around the diner casually, cracking my neck in the process to prolong my answer before I reply, “Like you’re mine for the taking.” Now she just looks amused, “How come? What if I were yours for the taking?”
