She zips her lips and fastens her seatbelt. “I uh … have a bottle of hand sanitizer in my purse.” Shoving the truck into drive, I ignore her. It’s going to take more than a bottle of hand sanitizer to fix this mess. “Don’t worry about dinner either. I’ll grab something at home.” I shoot her an incredulous look. She snorts out a laugh. “I’m sorry.” She laughs some more. “It was the Zinfandel on an empty stomach. Do you want the ring back?” There’s no way I’m acknowledging her until my balls are no longer sticky with vomit.
