“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was being judged by my ice cream selection.” I gave him a slow blink and an expectant stare. “Of course. How else would I know if you were a serial killer?” He paused in reaching for his wallet. “What would a serial killer order?” Resisting the urge to crack up, I moved easily around him, inching closer to Kaitlyn working the cash register. “Pistachio. Obviously.”
