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Well that certainly came out harsher than I meant. What the hell is it about this girl that makes me go all Clan of the Cave Bear every time another man is mentioned? Maybe that salon chair was a time machine that sent me back to prehistory. Yes, judging by my cock, I'm living in the Stone Age.
"Good thing he's not the guy who invited me out to dinner then," she replies.
"Yeah. Trust me, you do not want to rattle Rosalie's cage."
"Girlfriend?"
"Wife."
"So…what time is our reservation?" Her eyes drift to the ignition button.
"Right. Dinner."