"Ames, I"

Whirling, she grabbed the pint from him and strode inside.

He cursed and followed. "What did you mean by the ice cream would go to your...ass? What's wrong with it the way it is?"

As if she'd discuss her weight problem. He of the abs and gluts and biceps wouldn't understand. Mortification knew no bounds.

Keeping herself busy, she rinsed the spoon and set it in the sink, then capped the mint chip and put it in the freezer. Hands on his hips, he ...