Leather & Lark (Ruinous Love, #2)

by Brynne Weaver

“Exactly. So thank you for your totally unnecessary judgments, Budget Batman,” I say as I flick a dismissive hand toward his neoprene unitard,

I pretend to be confused. She does not pretend to be infuriated.

“A snow globe,” I say slowly, waiting for her to look up, which she doesn’t do. “You made a severed finger into a feckin’ snow globe.” “It was almost Christmas,” she says with a shrug. “It felt … festive.” “F … fest …” I blow out a long, thin stream of a breath and set the jar back down with numb fingers.