The Best Man (Blue Heron #1)(67)

“How about handcuffs?”

“Again...uh...not a lot of experience. And not seeking any.” Crap. Was there a way to keep this date from going down the toilet faster than her black wraparound sweater? Her brain groped around for a solution and came up empty.

“Do you like being submissive? Would you have a problem calling me Master?”

“No, and yes. That’s really not my thing, Ryan. Maybe we can shift course here, huh?”

“Hey.” The puppy dog look returned. “I answered your questions. It’s only fair.”

Faith took a slow breath. It’d be so nice to just walk away now. She could. However, she really didn’t feel like seeing the look on Levi’s face if she did. “Fine. Go for it.”

“Great!” Ryan clapped like a little kid. “Would you like it if I locked you in my boudoir for twelve hours and only left you a glass of water?”

“Do men have boudoirs? Because that’s a very girly term to me. And no. I’d get very hungry.”

“I see. I suppose I could slide some slices of baloney under the door.”

“Baloney? I’d need more than that.”

“Maybe some American cheese?”

“No,” Faith said. “I would require a gourmet pizza with shrimp, mustard and pesto from The Red Salamander, a bottle of chardonnay, and at least one pint of Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Brittle.”

“I see.”

“Also, I wouldn’t let you lock me anywhere. I’d kick you in the nuts if you tried that, buddy.”

“Oh! Awesome!” Ryan beamed. For the love of all that was holy... “What if I came in dressed as Zorro with absolutely nothing on under my cape?”

“You look nothing like Antonio Banderas. I would have to reject you. I imagine I’d laugh.” Jeremy was going to have to pay for this, oh, yes indeedy. And speaking of the town’s beloved doctor, where was he? “Hannah? Can we have the—”

Ah, hell. Levi was looking at her, a slight smirk on his face. And even if Ryan was a pervert with a terrible imagination, at least he was into her. “Never mind,” she told the girl. She turned her gaze back to Ryan of the Debauched Dimples. “Next question.”

“Great! Okay, say you were my cleaning woman, and you were on your hands and knees in my kitchen and I came in. What would you say?”

“I’d say, ‘Why is this floor so filthy? Can’t you learn to lean over the table?’”

“And I would say, ‘Take off the uniform, Cinder-Slut, and put your skills to other uses.’”

Faith folded her hands. “I would say, ‘No, sir, I will not! I require that you hie unto the market and buy me the Clorox Cleanup I asked you to get last week.’”

Ryan looked a little confused. “Uh...then I’d say, ‘Do as I say, serving wench!’”

“No, no, that won’t work,” Faith said, “See, I’m the cleaning lady, not the serving wench. Now I lost my character’s motivation. Scene.”

“You’re not doing this right, Faith,” he said, a sulky note in his voice.

“And you’re a fairly unimaginative perv,” she returned. “The maid is the best you can come up with? Yawn.”

Ryan’s phone buzzed. “I have to answer this,” he grumbled.

“By all means,” she said. Someone plunked into the seat next to her.

“Hey, Pru!” Faith said. “How’s it going?”

“Great. Got a quick question for you. Am I interrupting?”

“Not one bit.” Ryan was muttering into the phone, his hand cupped around it so she wouldn’t hear.

“Okay, well, here’s the thing. Carl’s sexting me.”

“Wow. I... Wow.”

“Check this out. What color panties r u wearing? Do I tell the truth? Because I think it’s the ones with the squirrels riding their little sleds. Or should I make something up?”

“Um, you know, do what you think is best,” Faith said. More wine would be called for very soon.

“Tell him you got on a red thong, and you want him to take it off with his teeth,” Ryan offered, pausing in his phone conversation. “Or even better, tell him you’re not wearing any panties at all. And that you’d like to play serving wench and master when you get home.”

Prudence stared at him. “This is your date?” she asked Faith.

“Sorry to say, yes, he is.”

“I have to go,” Ryan said. “My mama has a wax ball in her ear. Faith, what do you say? Wanna hook up? The ear will only take a minute, and it’s easier with two people, since she needs to be restrained.”

“I’ll take a pass,” Faith said. “Good luck.” Ryan threw a few bills down on the table and left, grumbling about the lies of erotic fiction.

Pru was texting. “Being sexy is exhausting,” she said. “I’m wearing a thong,” she narrated. “Come and get it, big boy. You know what I miss, Faith? My periods. At least then, I’d have a few days off. And when a woman yearns for her periods, that’s a sign that the end of days is coming.” Her phone chirped, and she paused to read. “Ah, shit. Look at this.”

She shoved her phone across the table so Faith could read. am deeply disturbed. be more careful with the send button, for the love of god. will accept gifts to undo the psychological damage just inflicted. xox your son, Ned