She's grinning when she comes back from the kitchen with another pair of beers. He's not even looking at her and he can tell she's grinning.
"So."
"So."
"So that one time when we were staking out the strip club -"
"Bikini bar," he corrects.
She ignores him, dropping down beside him on the couch before handing him a bottle. "When you said you couldn't go in because they knew you, it wasn't because you were a patron."
He just sighs and takes a long pull of his beer, completely resigned to his fate.
"It was because you were a coworker."
"I'm so glad I shared this secret with you." He finally turns to look at her and finds a smile so wide it looks like it's going to split her face.
"A stripper. A stripper!"
He looks at his watch. "It's nine-thirty. You have exactly two and a half hours left to mock me for this. That's all you get."
"Oh, I don't think so."
"I owed you a confession, but I do not owe you a lifetime of mocking."
"I'm sure it'll stop being funny in a year or two." She takes a sip of her beer before setting it down on the coffee table. "Or maybe not."
"Really?"
She shrugs. "You read my memoir, I get more than a day."
"Please, it's not like there was anything salacious in there. It was all about work and finance and crap."
"You just called my memoir crap!"
The gleam in her eye tells him she's not as affronted as she's pretending to be. "It's a little bit of a yawn, Kens."
"Oh my god!"
"Who cares about financial planning? I don't." He points his bottle at her. "You clearly don't."
"You didn't seem to find it boring - you read multiple chapters."
"Yeah, 'cause I was hoping I'd get to some good stuff."
She huffs. "Well, not all of us have such scandalous occupational histories."
"You could have at least included the chapter on that threesome."
She smiles and damn does he want to know what she's thinking about.
"Oh," she says, taking a long pull on her beer, "it'd be more than one chapter."