Cooking isnโt taught,โ Patch said. โItโs inherent. Either youโve got it or you donโt. Like chemistry. You think youโre ready for chemistry?โ I pressed the knife down through the tomato; it split in two, each half rocking gently on the cutting board. โYou tell me. Am I ready for chemistry?โ Patch made a deep sound I couldnโt decipher and grinned.
Becca FitzpatrickI took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. โYou like Mexican?โ he asked. โIโโ Iโd like to know what youโre doing inside my house! โTacos?โ โTacos?โ I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. โTomatoes, lettuce, cheese.โ โI know what a taco is!
Becca FitzpatrickEvery time you strip my sword, I owe you a kiss. How's that sound?" I bit my lip to keep from giggling. "That sounds really dirty." Patch waggled his brows. "Look whose mind just rolled into the gutter.
Becca FitzpatrickAnd here I thought they were called Peeping Toms." I didn't need to see him to know he wore a smile. "Stop laughing," I said, my cheeks hot with humiliation. "Get me down." "Jump." "What?" "I'll catch you." "Are you crazy? Go inside and open the window. Or get a ladder." "I don't need a ladder. Jump. I'm not going to drop you.
Becca Fitzpatrick