I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked. “I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house! “Tacos?” “Tacos?” I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.” “I know what a taco is!

Since we're keeping it primal, you smell good," he observed. "It's called a shower...," I began automatically, then trailed off. My memory snagged, taken aback by a compelling and forceful sense of undue familiarity. "Soap, shampoo, hot water," I added, almost as an afterthought. "Naked. I know the drill," Jev said, something unreadeble passing over his eyes.

The more time I spent with him, the more I knew the feelings weren't going away.

Anything was better than nothing. Half-full was better than empty. Ignorance was the lowest form of humiliation and suffering.

Tacos." "Tacos?" I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. "Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese." "I know what a taco is!

He cracked a slight smile, but it didn’t look amused. “I’m not letting you out of my sight. You’re looking a little deranged, Angel. We’ll go together.

That's really eco-friendly of you," Vee told Marcie. "Recycling Nora's old trash.