You Can Call Me Patch. No Really.

She Already Has A Car.” “a Ford. That’s Like Toyota’s Worst Enemy.

Is Everything A Joke To You?” I Asked. He Dabbed His Tongue To His Lip Again. “not Everything.” “like What?” “you.

I Study Her,” Patch Said. “i Figure Out What She’s Thinking And Feeling. She’s Not Going To Come Right Out And Tell Me, Which Is Why I Have To Pay Attention. Does She Turn Her Body Toward Mine? Does She Hold My Eyes, Then Look Away? Does She Bite Her Lip And Play With Her Hair, The Way Nora Is Doing Right Now?” Laughter Rose In The Room. I Dropped My Hands To My Lap. “she’s Game,” Said Patch, Bumping My Leg Again. Of All Things, I Blushed.

Religion?" I Asked More Firmly. Patch Dragged A Hand Thoughtfully Along The Line Of His Jaw. "not Religion ... Cult." "you Belong To A Cult?" I Realized Too Late That While I Sounded Surprised, I Shouldn't Have. "as It Turns Out, I'm In Need Of A Healthy Female Sacrifice. I'd Planned On Luring Her Into Trusting Me First, But If You're Ready Now...

Shouldn’t You Be Working Instead Of Fraternizing With Customers?” I Choked. He Smiled. “what Are You Doing Sunday Night?” I Snorted. By Accident. “are You Asking Me Out?” “you’re Getting Cocky. I Like That, Angel.” “i Don’t Care What You Like. I’m Not Going Out With You. Not On A Date. Not Alone.