Page 112
“You mean ridiculous?”
“Impridiculous.”
“That’s not a real word!”
Hogan loudly laughs on an innocent shrug. “It could be.”
“It’s not.”
“It can be.”
“No, it can’t! You can’t just go around making up words!”
“Isn’t that all language is?”
His question leaves my mouth agape, a position that has him laughing louder and warmer and so deliciously that if I weren’t half brain dead from having them fucked out of my head, I would have no choice but to roll over and mount him like some crazed swan desperate to bond for life.
And they do according to my recreational ornithologist.
And that is a real word unlike the many he keeps making up!
Unexpected buzzing noises begin prompting Hogan to announce, “That’s probably my phone.”
Disappointment drops my stomach. “Club?”
“Work.”
“This early?”
He slowly nods and lets his thumb deliver a soothing rub. “When I’ve got a morning shift on Sundays, I always stop by Adoughable to grab some shit for the opening crew. Weekends are always the hardest, especially during the summer.”
“Aw, you’re so thoughtful.”
H lets one shoulder bounce. “Non-hangry employees tend to be the better ones to manage.” Smugness saunters onto his face. “And hangry is a prime example of how two words can successfully become one and widely accepted among scholars.”
“No.” Amusement pierces my glare. “Do not try to bring scholars into this.”
His light laughs are met by mine prior to him declaring, “I’ll bring you something when I get off of work.”
The promise to see me later – versus the treatment I received last weekend – causes me to beam brightly.
“Fritter?”
“Um…sure?”
There’s no ignoring the suspiciousness in his stare. “Danish?”
“Yeah…that’s uh…good.”
“Strudel?”
“Don’t mind if I doble,” I playfully retort and sit upright.
Rather than smile, he glowers. “You don’t know shit about pastries.”
“That’s not…” Guilt swiftly litters itself into my gaze. “I know…you know…donuts.”
“And?”
