Annie-Jean said to her double oven, her hand gently rubbing the side like she was talking to a dog. Or a man. Emery laughed. “You know, the oven’s not going to keep you warm in the middle of the night.” Annie-Jean spun around, her eyes filled with mischievousness. “I disagree. This thing gets me hotter than any lover I’ve ever had. You should give it a go. See for yourself.” Emery laughed again. “Thanks, but I prefer my lovers in human form.” Annie-Jean smirked. “Is that right? I’m pretty sure you hung your heart on a horse as soon as you could walk and never looked back.” She went on packaging another perfect box of oatmeal and cranberry cookies. “That’s not the same thing. I’m about more than just horses.” Annie-Jean’s eyebrows went up. “What?” “Name the last man you dated who wasn’t affiliated in some way with farms or horses or racing.” Emery’s mouth opened and snapped back shut. Huh. Had she really restricted herself to the racing industry and nothing more?
