“And three?”
“And three, I never knew sex could be so good until Vegas.”
I puff my chest up. “I know that’s not a lie.”
“Maybe that’s the lie. Maybe I’m playing into that huge ego of yours.”
“Nah, it’s true. I tasted you and felt you squeeze around my fingers and cock, remember?” I say, and she goes bright red as she tosses a wet sponge at me. I grab it and set it back in the sink. “I’m going to go with, hung from the clothesline.”
“Wrong,” she says. “They did and I fell and it hurt like hell.”
“No way.” That’s like child abuse. “Where the hell were your parents?”
“Working, of course. My sisters were supposed to be taking care of me.”
“Seems like we have working parents in common. But I was a lot nicer to Nina than your sisters were to you.”
“Yup, they locked me in a suitcase once. It’s a wonder I’m not claustrophobic. I don’t see them much anymore. They both work in Manhattan now. I’m their only daughter left here in Seattle, and if my parents continue to pressure me about my choices, they’re going to drive me away, too.” She shakes her head. “Okay, now you.”
“All right. When I was young, I wanted to be a police officer.”
“Hmm,” she says.
“Two, I lost my virginity at fourteen, with Josee Fraser, in her parent’s basement. I think we were watching Veronica Mars.”
“Truth,” she says. “Although I would have guessed thirteen, and just so you know, most times when people give too much detail it usually means they’re lying.”
“Look at the lawyer in you coming out.” I laugh and give her hair a little tug.
“Okay, what’s your third?”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, much like her hair. “Thanks, Cason,” she says. “Sometimes you know, you really do say the right things.”
“Maybe that’s the lie,” I tease.
“You jerk,” she says and throws the sponge at me again. This time I’m ready so I dodge it and pull her into my arms for a kiss. “I never wanted to be a cop,” I say. “I wanted to be a hockey player since the day I was born.”
“And you are, and that is so amazing, Cason.”
“And you’re a chef. You’ll get what you want too, babe.”
I let her go, and we go back to preparing food, and talk about nothing and everything, and it’s weird how natural it feels being with her like this.
“It’s go time,” she says once we have all the food prepared, and goes about opening the truck. I stand back and take in the whole process from inside the truck instead of outside on the sidewalk.
Soon enough the crowds form, and she gives me a quick rundown on how to prepare the burrito bowls. The two of us work together in sync, like it’s something we’ve always done, and once we got the lunch crowd served, we start the whole process over for the dinner crowd.
“You know this is kind of fun,” I say as I stuff my face with a chicken taco.
“It is, isn’t it?”
“I love watching you work, and damn these are good.” I hold it out to her and she takes a generous bite.
“That was a mouthful,” I say, teasing her from our earlier conversation.
She chuckles and sauce spills down her chin, and I slide my finger over it. “So messy.”