Crazy Sexy Love (Dirty Dicks 1)

“Whose idea was it to take the class?”

“Linc’s. He used to date a girl who was a chef. We signed up through her.”

“Well, did you learn to cook? Is that why you put in a state-of-the-art kitchen?”

“I did learn to cook—a few things at least. And no, I put in a state-of-the-art kitchen because I was hoping one day I’d marry a woman who would put it to good use.”

“Is that so?” I ask, laughing.

He smiles and nods. “Yup.”

“And what about Linc? Did he learn how to cook?”

“Let’s just say some people shouldn’t be allowed in a kitchen or around a stove.”

“That bad, huh?”

“We made more trips to the emergency room during the course of that class than I have through all of my bull rides—and trust me, there have been many trips caused by the bull.”

I bite my bottom lip. “You’ve had quite a few injuries over the years.”

“How do you know?”

“I follow your career, remember?”

“That’s right. My sexy stalker.”

I swat at his shoulder but miss. “I wasn’t stalking.”

He winks. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

We’re keeping things light, but I have to ask… “Nothing too serious though, right? I sometimes felt like Coop sugarcoated when he gave me updates.”

“Nah. Nothing too serious.”

Rhett looks away, and that’s how I know he’s lying.

“Tell me.”

He takes a deep breath. “Three concussions. Fractured pelvis. Dislocated shoulder. Rotator cuff strain.” He lifts the offending arm. “A few broken ribs here and there, and a broken wrist.”

I open my mouth to ask him more, but he cuts me off.

“Now it’s your turn. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Nice deflection.”

“Thank you. Answer the question.”

I scrunch my brow, trying to come up with something fun I’ve done in the last six years. “I think you pretty much know everything.”

“Nah. There has to be a wild, crazy story in there somewhere.”

I shake my head. “After dad’s stroke, I buried myself in work. Aside from the occasional beer with Claire and Tess, I haven’t done much—watched movies with Dad, bartended, worked at Animal Haven.” I frown, thinking about all the things I didn’t do. “I’m boring.”

“You’re not boring.”

“Really?” I lift a brow.