Hot

As I drag my weary body into the house after another day running the shop by myself; Tate is dressed and waiting.
Actually he's wearing clean shorts, his work boots(one pair out of hundreds, maybe), clean tee shirt and he's looking hot.
He has the greatest legs I've ever seen.

-What are you getting ready to do? I ask

-Thought we'd go to the grocery store.

-We? I hate grocery shopping, you know that.

-Why?

-I don't know. I reply in my worst Jewish flavored whine.

-I'll take you to dinner first, your choice. Come on,it'll be fun.

Fun?
It's a tough call, but there is nothing to eat in the house and I hate for him to go anywhere without me on a Saturday night, or any night for that matter.
I acquiesce.

We went to a quiet little Chinese/Japanese place in town. They have the best spring rolls we have ever had, and we've tried a few.
I had Sake, two orders.
Then the torture, the grocery store, but he said it would be fun.

I picked out some lemons and some limes, Tate went to the exotic produce section (imagine that).

Ooh, those are hot, I said in a soft deep voice as I leaned into him by the produce display. They could hurt you, if you let them, I continued. They will make you cry, they will beat you into submission, make you slap someone, yourself even if you don't look out.

He holds his deadpan, pokerface expression as he fills his produce bag, and then turns toward me with a wicked smile.
They make you talk dirty, that's what they do, more habeneros for you.