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.
Becca FitzpatrickI didnโt break his jaw, but if he lays a hand on you, it will be the first of many things to break,โ Patch said.
Becca FitzpatrickThe older woman waiting for admittance looked at me, then over her shoulder at Patch, who was vanishing down the hall. โHoney,โ she told me, โhe looks slippery as soap.
Becca FitzpatrickShouldnโt you be working instead of fraternizing with customers?โ I choked. He smiled. โWhat are you doing Sunday night?โ I snorted. By accident. โAre you asking me out?โ โYouโre getting cocky. I like that, Angel.โ โI donโt care what you like. Iโm not going out with you. Not on a date. Not alone.
Becca FitzpatrickHank had left me his doomed army, and heโd left Marcie his inheritance. Unfair didnโt begin to cover it.
Becca FitzpatrickThere was no sign of Jules. โBad news,โ said Elliot. โThe man is sick. Youโre going to have to settle for me.โ โSick?โ Vee demanded. โHow sick? What kind of excuse is sick?โ โSick as in itโs coming out both ends.โ Vee scrunched her nose. โToo much information.
Becca Fitzpatrick