Obviously, this had to be a midlife crisis. Broadrick didn't eat cookie dough. One time, he brought his mini blender to our hotel room and made me his "special" breakfast shake. It had spinach in it. Who eats freaking spinach for breakfast?
He grabbed a large metal bowl from the kitchen island and peeled over the plastic wrap. "I decided the military can't give me what I want."
I shoved the ball of dough in my mouth, chewing so quickly I didn't get to enjoy the chocolatey taste. Good thing I had a roll in my fridge at home. He dipped his finger in the bowl with the dough, and I slapped his hand away. Who knew how long that had been sitting on the counter?
"Now what? You're planning to hang around Pelican Bay and eat expired dough?"
He eyed the dough for another second, as if conside
