“Okay, maybe a lion.” She smirks, then softens and reaches over to pat my hand. “Trust me, June: I’ve known the man a long time. He’s not as scary as he seems. Not all the time, at least.”
“I’m not scared of him.”
“Good effort! With a little more practice, that will be much more convincing.”
I frown, and she gives me a sheepish smile. “He’s not that hard to decipher,” she promises. “He’s just a man, after all. At the end of the day, they’re all suckers.”
“Sure,” I say with a heap of sarcasm. “It has nothing to do with the fact that you look like a supermodel.”
She doesn’t fake-humble and wave away the compliment like some women would. There’s no false humility in her smile, either. Instead, she nods. “Oh, that’s definitely part of it. And it’s enough for most men. But others are more
