"That I do, my friend, that I do. But if I have to sit here and watch you model yet another pair of Air Jordans, I'm going to go into a coma."

"Air Jordans? Veronica, where have you been the past five ten years? Jordan retired and took his shoes with him." He shook his head as he lifted his pant and showed off the logo. "Vintage."

"Tennis shoes. Rubber and canvas."

"And I suppose your desire to shop for lip gloss is more important. At least my shoes are made of stuff found in nature. I bet there's at least four chemical compounds you can't pronounce in the stuff you're putting on your lips."

"Monosodium glutamate makes my lips sparkle and shine." She smiled. "You buying those?"

"Or the blue pair. I can't decide."

"Get those. Black is the new black." She tossed him his jacket. "Besides, you'll be beating off the girls when you fly down that basketball court all sleek and dark."

"That's me, girl."

"Aw yeah." She stood and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I'll be beating your admiring hordes off with a stick."

"That won't be necessary." He rested his head against the top of hers. "Ain't no girl every gonna come between me and my Veronica."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

He shook his head. "Just keep the snickerdoodles coming, you know, so my affections don't wander."

"You love me because of my Betty Crocker cookbook."

Wallace picked up his shoes and started toward the counter. "That's not the only reason." He grinned. "You look sassy in her apron."