“You don’t look like a witch. Is that really what they call you?” he asks. “Sometimes they put a b in front.” He’s American and Texan and therefore a gentleman, so it takes him a moment to realize this is a joke. “My momma would yank a knot in my throat if I used either word for a lady.” “Lucky for you I’ve rarely been accused of being a lady,” I say with a wink, and I haven’t been married so long that I don’t enjoy watching him blush.
