He grins. “Do you have a costume?” “Absolutely. Wicked Kitty.” “Come again?” He scrutinizes me. “Black leather teddy. Black thigh-high boots. Ears. Mask. Whip.” “That sounds hot,” Maren says. Fitz shoots her a look, but I don’t think it’s a kind one. “I was thinking you could dress up as a smoke jumper.” He gives me a tight grin. My forearms rest on the counter, so we’re face to face. “I’ll go as a smoke jumper if you go as the wicked kitty. Someone’s wearing the wicked-kitty costume.” “I’ll pay you a hundred dollars if you go as the wicked kitty,” Will offers. “I’ll add an extra hundred,”
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