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“You could always return it to the Native Americans it was mostly likely stolen from.”
“You one hundred percent omitted the part about that friend being a jacked-to-shit farmer man with arms like”—she made a whooshing sound—“and his whole ‘if you’re up for some naughty farmers market action, you know where to find me.’”
“Allow me to make myself clear. I don’t give a pickled fuck how or why we came to be married. You are my wife. If you need some fun, you’ll call me. I’ll be the one taking care of you. I’ll give you anything you want, including a properly prepared gin and tonic. If you can’t accept that, you’re welcome to divorce me now.”
Tell me what that cockwobble has done now.”
