Well, well,” he said. “Five days a week isn’t enough of me? Had to give me an evening, too?

The Patch I knew didn't run from anyone.

I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax." I whirled around to find the real Patch standing in the fitting room behind me. He was wearing jeans and a snug white tee. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, and his black eyes smiled down at me. Heat that wasn't entirely uncomfortable flushed through my body. "I could make all kinds of pervert jokes right now," I quipped.

Here it comes," she said with an expression of pure bliss. "Drug rush ... any moment now ... the surge of warmth ... bye-bye, Mr. Pain..." "Vee-" "Knock, knock." "This is really important-" "Knock, knock." "It's about Elliot-" "Knock, knoooock," she said in a singsong voice. I sighed. "Who's there?" "Boo." "Boo who?" "Boo-hoo, somebody's crying, and it's not me!" She broke into hysterical laughter.

I forced a smile. It was the one I'd been practicing all morning. It felt tight at the edges and brittle everywhere in between.

Stay with me tonight. Let me hold you even if that's all it is. Let me keep you safe.

If I missed out on some really big action, I’m going to be royally pissed off!