ALISON
"Wet Pussy."
"Leg Spreader."
"s*x in the Jungle."
"s*x on the Farm."
"No way. I call bullshit." Noah leaned back and scowled at me. "There's no such drink as s*x on the Farm. You just scrambled when you couldn't think of anything, and you riffed on my s*x in the Jungle."
I pointed my finger at him. "You'd be wrong, mag man, because it just so happens there is so a cocktail of that name."
He smirked. "Oh, really? What's in it? Hayseed and ninety proof?"
"Nope. It's made of vodka, peach schnapps, cranberry juice and orange juice." I smiled triumphantly.
"What the hell does any of that have to do with a farm?"
I shrugged. "I have no idea. Maybe someone made it up on a farm. Or maybe because it has peaches, cranberries and oranges in it."
"That doesn't make any sense."
