I’m not here for that.” His gaze dips to my chest. “Well, I wasn’t. What do you mean ‘not here’?” “Spit it out.” “Alright.” He glances over at the kitchen. “You think your mother’s got any of that banana pudding in there?” “Good grief.” I sigh. “I should have known.” He gives me that wide-eyed, innocent look he thinks he’s good at. “What?”
