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If there’s one thing I really hate, it’s when someone underestimates my intelligence. Especially when that someone is male and inconveniently hot.
It’s a time-tested truth that the best-looking men are always the absolute worst.
Even when he was insulting me, he was attractive. The jerk.
“You don’t know me, but I’m as stubborn as a drunk goat on a narrow bridge.” I made a face at her. “That’s the dumbest metaphor I’ve ever heard.” She pursed her lips and considered it. “How about this? I’m as stubborn as if a drunk goat and a brick wall had a baby.” “What’s with the drunk goats? You spend a lot of time around alcoholic farm animals?”
The little psychopath was actually bewitching.
The only thing worse than a smart-ass woman was a smart-ass woman who was right.
“Is this how you always respond to bad news?” said Dax drily as he watched me pour. “No, that’s usually when the tacos come into play, but I’m winging it. You want vodka?”
For fuck’s sake. These ominous one-liners were really starting to chap my ass.
“You’re so lucky I’m not a flowers-and-foreplay girl.” I growled, “And
“You know what?” I shouted, jabbing a finger in his creepy direction. “I won’t be intimidated by a faceless, undead weirdo! You and your boneyard stank can go suck an egg!”
