Silence

We don’t have to go back to my place, Angel. I can take you home, if that’s what you want. Or, if you decide you want to sleep at my place, on opposite sides of my bedroom with a Do Not Cross line drawn down the middle, I’ll do it. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it.”

Patch leaned on the banister, dressed in a tailored black suit and silver tie. I gave him a flirty smile. He held out his arm and escorted me to the door. He smelled warm and earthy, like sun-baked sand. Unable to control myself, I grabbed his jacket lapels and hauled him into a kiss. “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.

Patch made a low, questioning sound. “Not bad?” I bent my head toward his. “Practice makes perfect.”