“Dude, I’ll buy you a fucking Vespa if only to see the wind in your hair.” They looked at each other, both of them deadpan. “If it wasn’t for that stupid earflap hat,” Sawyer continued, “I’d run my fingers through your locks right now.” “Tonight,” Ryan promised. “After the girls have gone to bed.” “By the fire?” “With Jane’s chocolate cake between us. I’ll whip us up a bearskin rug.”
