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“I did,” she said. “My parents moved to California when I was nineteen, but I stayed here because I had just gotten my first admin job, and I love it here.”
“The warmer weather is nice, though,” I said. “Especially when it’s a winter like this one.”
“That’s true, but I don’t regret staying here. How about you? Are you from here?”
“I was born and raised in Idaho, but my parents moved us here when I was ten.”
She grinned. “You do not look like someone from Idaho.”
“You haven’t seen the portrait my parents have of me at age eleven in overalls, a straw hat, and surrounded by baskets of potatoes,” I said and then internally groaned at how stupid I sounded.
Riley laughed. “I would pay good money to see that portrait.”
“Define good money,” I said. “Because I have a photo of that portrait on my phone, and I could be persuaded to show it to you for the right price.”
“I have a five dollar bill in my wallet. It’s all yours if you show me that picture,” she said.
“I’ll need at least seven dollars,” I said.
“I’ll raid my piggy bank tonight.”
“It’ll be worth it,” I said. “I’m holding a potato, I struck a very jaunty pose, and my aunt told me I was as handsome as a BackStreet Boy.”
“Which one?” she asked.
“Howie,” I said.
She sat back in her chair. “Pfft. You do not look like Howie.”
“Are you saying I’m not as handsome as a boy band member? Because if you are, you and my aunt are gonna have words.”
She giggled. “When I look at you, no, I don’t think boy band member.”
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I think - why did the hottest man on the planet choose me to play with,” she said with frank honesty.
“Because you’re gorgeous with a killer body.”
“So is Sharonda,” she said casually.
I grinned inwardly. Right or wrong, I liked her little spark of jealousy. “I’m not interested in Sharonda.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t date coworkers,” I said. “Plus, I’m positive Sharonda would not be compatible with me in certain areas of my life.”
“The bedroom, you mean,” she said.
“I do.”
“Maybe Sharonda has a secret praise kink.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but doubtful.”
“Do you ever have, um, a vanilla type relationship?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve tried in the past, but it’s not for me.”
