Jack wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He whispered in her ear. “He’s not getting near you again, baby, I promise. No one’s laying a finger on you ever again.

I don’t mind hot and spicy. Actually find that appealing in a girl. And chicken wings.

He maybe, possibly, said that if he got word of anyone getting in your way, they’d find out whether there was any truth to the rumor about him knowing how to kill a man with paper clips.

I don’t mind hot and spicy. Actually find that appealing in a girl … And chicken wings.” Rylann turned her head and stared at him. “Did you really just compare me to chicken wings?” “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Chicken wings are the bomb.

Don't get me wrong. I love a Denver omelette as much as the next girl. But I'm curious whether that’s your thing, or if you try to change up the routine depending on the specific woman. You know… like, green pepper because I have green eyes, ham because I’m so funny, and onions for all the tears you’ll shed after I leave.

It's a truth universally acknowledged that an FBI special agent in possession of great skill and talent is likely to engage in trash talk every now and then.

If you also thinks it means I wake up every morning wondering what I did to deserve having you back in my life, well, you'd be right about that too.