“Looks like he recovered from the wood chipper pretty well. Want me to kick his ass?”“No, I don’t want you to kick his ass.”“You sure? Because I specialize in deassholization.”This time she smiles. “Deassholization?”“Yeah. Just think of me as the Orkin man of assholes—utting assholes in their place.”“Well, I appreciate the offer, but he’s not worth it.”I reach forward to tuck a stray lock of raven hair behind her ear. “If he hurt you, he’s worth it.”

“You sure? Because I specialize in deassholization." This time she smiles. Deassholization?" "Yeah. Just think of me as the Orkin man of assholes--putting assholes in their place.”

“How did you get my number anyway?”“Some asshole named Nash.”“Asshole?”“Yeah, asshole. Don’t tell me you don’t think he’s an asshole!”I laugh uncomfortably. “Um, no I don’t think he’s an asshole. He’s always been nice to me.”asshole. He’s always been nice to me.”“Of course he has. You’re gorgeous. What man wouldn’t be nice to you?”“Plenty.”“Assholes, all of them,” he teases.“They’re assholes, too?”“Yep.”“Is everyone an asshole today?”“Yep,” he repeats. “Word of the day toilet paper.”I laugh, genuinely this time. “Is that right?”

“I was supposed to be meeting someone, but they had to cancel. After I’d already gotten here, of course,” I explain, bitterness dripping from my voice.“Want me to kick his ass?” he asks. I look up at him and he’s grinning at me over the top of his glass.“No. You might be embarrassed when she gets the better of you.”

“And you should warn him that if he hurts you, I will scissor kick him in the nuts.  Tell him, okay? You tell him that.  Because I mean it.  I’ll go all kinds of Bruce Lee on his tasty ass.”

“I’m lying on Cash’s chest, tracing his tattoo.“What does this mean?” I whisper.“It’s the Chinese symbol for awesome,” he teases lightly.I giggle. “If it’s not, which I imagine it isn’t, then it should be.”“Are you paying me a compliment? I just want to be sure, so I don’t miss it.”I slap his ribs. “You make it sound like I’m mean and horrible because I don’t throw myself at your feet.”“You don’t have to throw yourself at my feet. Although if you want to, I’m sure I can think of something for you to do while you’re down there.”I look up at him and he’s waggling his eyebrows again.“I’m sure you could.” Shaking my head, I settle back onto his chest and resume tracing the ink shapes. “Seriously, what do they mean?”Cash is quiet for so long I begin to think he’s not going to answer me. But then he finally speaks.“It’s a collage of things that remind me of my family.”

“I try to hide the smile I feel that he’s coming in without me having to ask. It’s like some unspoken agreement has been reached between us. I’m his and he’s mine.”