You’re not going to drive me home?” I asked. A waste of breath, since I knew her answer. “There’s fog.” “Patchy fog.” Vee grinned. “Oh, boy. He is so on your mind. Not that I blame you. Personally, I’m hoping I dream about him tonight.

My first job entailed spending a summer working in a cornfield in Nebraska.

I didn’t break his jaw, but if he lays a hand on you, it will be the first of many things to break,” Patch said.

Thinking. A process by which I use my brain to make a rational decision.

Let me show you,” he said in my ear. “Like this. Feel that? Relax. Now pivot your hips—it’s all in the hips.

You laugh, but you haven't seen me in a tux. Or maybe you don't like broad-shouldered guys with muscular chest and washboard abs?

Father' is such an arbitary word. Douche bag, on the other hand.