Trixie asked, joining Mitch in the kitchen. Mitch set a bowl on the counter. “Do you know what this is?” Trixie eyed the container. She mashed her knees together and swallowed once. “Yes.” Mitch chuckled. “I forgot you grew up in a home with parents who didn’t hide the fact they were pretty kinky when the lights went out.” “That’s not true,” Trixie said. “And my parents’ home isn’t where I’ve seen a hand of ginger.” Mitch moistened his lips. “Let me guess. That feisty sister of yours keeps a few ginger fingers on ice?” “Which sister?” she asked, a little perturbed at his insinuation. “Ansley,” he replied. “Anyone can look at Tristan and tell what kind of relationship they have.” “Wrong,” Trixie said, smiling to herself. She almost laughed outright.
