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“If I do get my face burned off, just shoot me in the back of the head and leave me for the crows.” “Gross.” “What? Birds love barbeque.”
“That’s the reason you’ve been in the wind the past week?” “Uhhh…” I held up my hand, the base of my neck growing hot. “I am a person. ‘She’ isn’t great, but it’s definitely more flattering than ‘that.’”
“How very modern of you. What makes you think I was staring at your ass?” “Because you were standing behind me, and it would have been impossible not to stare. My ass looks damn fine in these jeans.”
“Don’t get excited,” he advised. “I can take a hit. I can take as many as you can throw and then some, pretty boy.” Pretty boy? Now, that was just offensive.
