“Well, well, well,” Johnny mused, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Looks like someone else”—he paused to make air quotes—“jumped the gun.” “I most certainly did not,” Claire huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “The only thing I jump, Johnny Kavanagh, is a skipping rope.” “Uh-huh.” Johnny arched a brow and mimicked her earlier words back to her. “You keep telling yourself that.” “We don’t all think with our genitals,” she countered. “Considering my genitals were recently sewn back on with a needle and thread, I’d say that’s very true,” he shot back huffily. “Needle and thread.” Gibsie
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