“So, I had sex in a tractor last night.” With a raised brow, I paused my hand on the number pad and looked above my screen at her. “A… tractor. How is that even possible? How many tractors are on St. Thomas that you could have sex on?” “At least one,” she said, sitting back in her seat. “I feel a little dirty about this one, I will admit.” “Really?” She stood and walked over to the coffee pot to refill her cup. “No, not at all. No regrets, my friend. And now that I think about it, I’m sure it was a backhoe.” I shrugged. “Well, as long as it was a backhoe.”
