I look meaningfully at my husband, hoping he’ll notice the inflection there. He notices, and has his argument ready. “They were checking out your ...EGS, not your shoes. I’m telling you, real men don’t care anything about shoes, except how easily they can be kicked off when you’re climbing into bed. Or how fast you can run in them when we’re chasing you.” Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. But I continue anyway. We danced for about an hour, and I had a few more drinks. After a while, my feet started. He sighed, Riley wheres my cover? he narrowed his eyes on her once more. Riley frowned, You should really stop doing that, you dont want wrinkles. And your hat thingy is in the nightstand drawer. She calmly said. Its called a cover, remember that. he said as he walked over to the night stand and opened it, he pulled out his cover and put it on. Damn you look hot. Are you sure we cant do a quickie? she softly asked. No, get ready for school. Remember what we talked about. He firmly said as he. More

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