fuck it.”
“This is not happening.”
“Then a man came along, with a tiny-ass schlong.”
“Quit it. Quit it right now.”
“But, alas, he knew not where to tuck it.”
Rachel threw her hands up in the air. “What are you, twelve?”
Michael cracked his knuckles and took another deep breath. Five minutes. Five minutes of this and she was done. He’d bet his collection of naked lady mud flaps on it.
“There once was a girl from Mayotte,” he began again. Rachel immediately clapped her hands over her ears and started humming a tune he didn’t recognize, but that didn’t faze him. He had a powerful set of lungs hidden underneath his barrel of a chest. He could out-volume this woman any day of the week.
“Who suffered from nasty crotch rot.”
An outraged mewl escaped Rachel’s throat. Good. She was listening. He was just getting warmed up.
“She moved to the beach, to showcase her peach.”
Rachel’s lips tightened. He finished the limerick with a mighty roar. “Where men loved the smell of her twat.”
The door to the dressing room fell open a sliver.
“Is, ah, everything okay in here?” came Larson’s quiet voice. He’d obviously been sent against his will, if the sharp whisper at his back was anything to go by. Someone seriously needed to take this boy in hand and teach him to man up a little.
“Come in, come in,” Michael called warmly. “We’re just getting started in here. You guys have me surrounded with Shakespeare all the time, so I thought I’d try my hand. It’s not so hard, this poetry thing. I don’t see what all the ruckus is about. Do you want to hear some of my work?”
Larson’s eyes grew wide, but he slipped in through the doorway just the same. Michael couldn’t have staged it better if he tried. If there was one thing better than being deliberately offensive to an obstinate woman, it was being deliberately offensive to an obstinate woman in front of an audience.
“How about this one? Stop me if you’ve heard it. There once was a man with angina—”
“Out!” Rachel yelled. Despite all her cries of assault, she was the first to make a move, both her hands pressed against his chest as she tried to physically move him out the door. Michael got up from the chair and let her push, taking a few small steps so she thought she was making progress. As soon as they were close enough to the door, he let his hand run up her, caressing from forearm to shoulder, which was bare in her filmy sleeveless top.
In the distance, Larson gulped.
“Unhand me,” Rachel said through gritted teeth, but there were goose bumps all along her arm, her skin’s natural reaction to the rough surface of his hand.
“You assaulted me first,” Michael replied, his voice low. “I have a witness.”
Her lips parted, half temptation, half outrage. It was a temptation he wouldn’t yield to, an outrage he would use to his advantage. Drawing closer, he let his other hand fall along the soft curve of her back, not quite touching, but disturbing so much of the air around them that they both felt the shift.
Just as she leaned in, probably unaware of her own body’s betrayal, Michael reached behind him and yanked on the door. The wash of cold air was a shock, and Rachel’s mouth fell the rest of the way open.
“There’s coffee down there for you if you want. Dominic ordered it. Double tall. Skim milk. Nothing frothy or sweet about it.” He very purposefully raked his gaze over the length of her. It was a sight he could never tire of, even if he had to do it with mockery shielding his real thoughts. “Huh. Kind of like you, now that I think about it.”
With a cry of outrage, Rachel stormed through the door. Larson and Michael watched, side by side, as she grabbed the coffee out of Dominic’s hand and threw it in the nearest garbage can.
“I don’t want a stupid latte, Dom. I want you to behave like a professional for once. Do you think you can manage that?”
He cast a
“This is not happening.”
“Then a man came along, with a tiny-ass schlong.”
“Quit it. Quit it right now.”
“But, alas, he knew not where to tuck it.”
Rachel threw her hands up in the air. “What are you, twelve?”
Michael cracked his knuckles and took another deep breath. Five minutes. Five minutes of this and she was done. He’d bet his collection of naked lady mud flaps on it.
“There once was a girl from Mayotte,” he began again. Rachel immediately clapped her hands over her ears and started humming a tune he didn’t recognize, but that didn’t faze him. He had a powerful set of lungs hidden underneath his barrel of a chest. He could out-volume this woman any day of the week.
“Who suffered from nasty crotch rot.”
An outraged mewl escaped Rachel’s throat. Good. She was listening. He was just getting warmed up.
“She moved to the beach, to showcase her peach.”
Rachel’s lips tightened. He finished the limerick with a mighty roar. “Where men loved the smell of her twat.”
The door to the dressing room fell open a sliver.
“Is, ah, everything okay in here?” came Larson’s quiet voice. He’d obviously been sent against his will, if the sharp whisper at his back was anything to go by. Someone seriously needed to take this boy in hand and teach him to man up a little.
“Come in, come in,” Michael called warmly. “We’re just getting started in here. You guys have me surrounded with Shakespeare all the time, so I thought I’d try my hand. It’s not so hard, this poetry thing. I don’t see what all the ruckus is about. Do you want to hear some of my work?”
Larson’s eyes grew wide, but he slipped in through the doorway just the same. Michael couldn’t have staged it better if he tried. If there was one thing better than being deliberately offensive to an obstinate woman, it was being deliberately offensive to an obstinate woman in front of an audience.
“How about this one? Stop me if you’ve heard it. There once was a man with angina—”
“Out!” Rachel yelled. Despite all her cries of assault, she was the first to make a move, both her hands pressed against his chest as she tried to physically move him out the door. Michael got up from the chair and let her push, taking a few small steps so she thought she was making progress. As soon as they were close enough to the door, he let his hand run up her, caressing from forearm to shoulder, which was bare in her filmy sleeveless top.
In the distance, Larson gulped.
“Unhand me,” Rachel said through gritted teeth, but there were goose bumps all along her arm, her skin’s natural reaction to the rough surface of his hand.
“You assaulted me first,” Michael replied, his voice low. “I have a witness.”
Her lips parted, half temptation, half outrage. It was a temptation he wouldn’t yield to, an outrage he would use to his advantage. Drawing closer, he let his other hand fall along the soft curve of her back, not quite touching, but disturbing so much of the air around them that they both felt the shift.
Just as she leaned in, probably unaware of her own body’s betrayal, Michael reached behind him and yanked on the door. The wash of cold air was a shock, and Rachel’s mouth fell the rest of the way open.
“There’s coffee down there for you if you want. Dominic ordered it. Double tall. Skim milk. Nothing frothy or sweet about it.” He very purposefully raked his gaze over the length of her. It was a sight he could never tire of, even if he had to do it with mockery shielding his real thoughts. “Huh. Kind of like you, now that I think about it.”
With a cry of outrage, Rachel stormed through the door. Larson and Michael watched, side by side, as she grabbed the coffee out of Dominic’s hand and threw it in the nearest garbage can.
“I don’t want a stupid latte, Dom. I want you to behave like a professional for once. Do you think you can manage that?”
He cast a
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