"Darlin’, that is above my paygrade," he’d scowled. "And requires conditioning that, one, I’m not invested enough to undertake, and two, you are not experienced enough to administer. That’s like offering me an ice cream cone on the other side of a dung heap and then setting the dung on fire. I don’t need the ice cream that badly." "But you love ice cream," she reminded him, kissing his throat as he harrumphed. "Yeah, well, I love cake too, and there's a sexy lil’ cake in the kitchen that I can help myself to any time the cake desires. I can live happily with cake. You can keep your ice cream."
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