She watched him lift his chicken breast, sink his teeth into the flesh, and tear it off the bone like a starved animal. She laughed. “You do you. I’m good doing me.” With a napkin in each hand, she picked up the rib and nibbled from the center, careful not to get sauce on her face. But the paper dissolved, leaving her with a soggy mess. “Fine, I’m starving. If I have to become a savage, so be it.” Picking up the rib, she clamped her teeth into it and twisted her head like a dog with a chew toy. Sauce dripped off her fingers and smeared across her chin, and she looked to Brodie with an expression that said, What now, genius?

Licking the sauce off his fingers, he made a popping sound when each one left his mouth.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Am I, though?”

She nudged him. “This is delicious. And, I have to admit, it tastes better when I eat it with my hands.” She sucked sauce off her thumb. “So, I have to get something off my chest.”

“Is that another American saying from your roommate’s dad?”

“Yes. Did I get it right?”

He nodded, then gestured. Go on.

“I was mean when I said you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t follow through. I’m just upset about my situation. The Jubilee really drove everything home for me, you know? I’m valued for my womb, and that scares me to death because there’s so much more I want to do, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get to do any of it in St. Christophe.” She lowered her wrists to the edge of the table, looking defeated. “Brodie, I can’t do anything to jeopardize our partnership, but…”

“But you want to lick barbecue sauce off my naked chest?”

“That’s too gross to even address.” But she gazed down at her plate for a moment. “Is that…have you done that before? Licked barbecue sauce off someone’s breasts?”

“Not barbecue sauce, no. I’m not that into mixing food with sex. Mostly, I want to taste your tits, not sauce.”

A wave of desire fluttered across her features, and she tensed.

“You like that dirty talk, huh?”

“Well, apparently.” She said it so primly, it made him crack up. She balled up a napkin and tossed it at him. “Anyway. I’m sorry for taking a shot at you. That wasn’t nice.”

“We’re good, princess. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“But you’re following through now. With Owl Hoot.”

He ripped open a moist toilette and cleaned his hands. “Thing is, Owl Hoot…that was my dad’s dream.”

“I haven’t met him yet. What does he do?”

“My dad passed away nearly four years ago. In an avalanche.”