“You cook?” “For you, yes.” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you going to make?” “Baked ziti and garlic bread.” “Mmm,” she moaned. The sound was enough to make me want to start humping her leg like the needy dog I’d turned into whenever she was near. She could’ve put a collar on me, and I would’ve allowed her to dog-walk me all around town with a smile on my face.
