“Thanks.” Little containers of creamer were on the counter. I emptied three of them into my cup. “Milk?” I offered him one.
“Milk’s for wusses.”
I had raised the cup to my lips, but that stopped me from taking a sip. “Are you calling me a wuss?”
“I’m certainly not calling you Sweetcheeks.”
“Oh?” Son of a bitch. The first man I’d been attracted to since…well, forever, and he had to turn out to be a shit. “Mind telling me why? You think it makes me sound like a rent boy?” I gave him a hard glare. Vincent must have told him what our line of work was. It didn’t matter a hill of beans to him, but too many times people had put us down because of what we did for a living.
The glower that I’d learned from Tim didn’t seem to bother Matheson at all.
“No.” His expression was bland. “It makes you sound like my boyfriend.”
My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. He was flirting with me? “You…uh…you really call your boyfriends ‘sweetcheeks’?”