Can't Touch This (Can't Touch This #1)

She sighed, irritation bright in her gaze. “You truly need to install that filter we discussed. If you want someone to do the surgery to stop vulgar man thoughts from leaving your brain and vomiting out of your mouth, I could recommend Polly if you want an impartial physician.”

“Polly?” I wracked my brains. Thorn River was a small town, but I hadn’t met anyone called Polly before. And I would remember because all parrots (especially ones belonging to pirates) were called Polly.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t be happy operating on me? You’d outsource my personality change to another?”

“Oh, you’d actually like me to do it?” She snorted. “And here I was thinking you didn’t trust my skills seeing as you have a death grip on your dog and refuse to let me inspect him.”

“Oh, you can inspect him. You just have to say the magic words.”

This is stupid.

Stop it.

But how could I stop when her reaction was so damn addicting?

Bending a little to bring our eyes in line, I murmured, “All you have to say is, ‘Can I touch your wiener,’ and then he’s all yours.”

“He, huh?” She rolled her eyes. “Rather convenient.”

I smirked. “It is convenient that Pikachu is a boy. Otherwise, the veiled insinuations of touching my cock would be odd if I referred to it as a girl.”

She pointed a finger in my face. “Ah ha, I knew you were talking about your…umm, manhood.”

I exploded in laughter, scaring the mutt. “Manhood? How old are you? Eighty and reading Fabio shirt rippers?”

She crossed her arms. “It’s a correct term for that part of a man’s body.”

“Sure it is. But cock sounds so much better.”

“How about dick?” She smiled sweetly. “That’s a common one and wouldn’t you know…it’s what you’re being right now.”

I couldn’t keep a straight face. I laughed harder. “Damn, you’re adorable when you’re mad.”

She froze. “Who says I’m mad?”

“Your cheeks are pink and you’re yelling at me.”

“I’m not yelling.”

“Are too.”

“What are you? Twelve?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Older. In fact, I’m guessing I’m the perfect age for you.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m probably slightly older than you which women seem to like and I’m taller—which is also a good thing from what I’ve heard, and I’m stronger. Therefore, I’m perfect.”

Wariness painted her face. “Perfect for what?”

“A date.” I held out Pikachu. “Go ahead and touch my wiener. But if you do, you have to go on a date with me. That’s the second time I’ve asked you. I deserve an answer—or an award for my patience.”

“Bah!” She wiped her hands on her scrubs. “No way.”

“No way you’re going to touch my wiener, or no way you’re going to go out with me?”

“Both.”