Page 35 of Heimlock

My focus is so homed in on his mouth, I barely register the words. When they sink in, I draw my brow together. “As in what? If I like pickles on pizza?”

The moment is shattered. He jerks back like I slapped him, my finger still in his grasp. Trinte’s powerful frame freezes. “Pickles on what?”

Cringing, I say, “Pizza?”

He drops my finger. “I have to go.”

My eyes widen as he stands in a rush. Is he actually disgusted? “What? Why?”

He brandishes a panty-dropping smile. “I’m fucking with you.” He sits back down, grinning. “But I won’t take back calling you a psychopath.”

After a quick laugh, I exhale, my body relaxing. He had me going there for a second. “Well, what kind of pizza do you like?”

The bartender brings over our glasses. Trinte pays the six corals without blinking, eyes still on me. “I prefer pineapples.”

I bark out a laugh. “Arguably, just as horrifying as pickles.”

“So you agree that it’s horrifying?”

“Objectively, I could see the downsides.”

“Like flavor?”

“And texture.” I shoot back.

“Good to know you’re capable of being objective.”

“I can be very objective.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

“Prove that I’m objective?”

“Yep.”

I look around helplessly. “How?”

Biting back a smile, he scans the room; points to an overweight Satyr in the corner. “That guy. Is he attractive or not?”

“W-what?” I sputter. “I’m not going to play a game of ‘hot or not’ with strangers at a bar.”

“If you can be objective, tell me if you think he’s attractive?”

Compared to you? I don’t voice that thought though. “Fine. But I don’t know how this is going to prove anything.” I twist to fully focus on the male Satyr. He has a piebald pattern on his hindquarters. A rotund belly enters the room before him as he walks closer to the buffet.

Okay, I can do this. Everyone is beautiful in their own way. “First off, that coat pattern is so unusual. I think that’s an interesting part of his appearance.”

“Do you think interesting-looking people are attractive?”

I give him an irritated look. “Are you going to let me answer?”

He motions with a hand for me to proceed.

Looking at the Satyr's face, I say, “He has nice, round cheeks. The woman speaking to him makes him smile; it’s a nice smile. Not too many teeth, and they’re all clean.”

Trinte snorts, but says nothing.

“I can’t tell the color of his eyes, but the wrinkles tell me he likes to smile. That’s a good sign.”