Flor's Fiasco (Icehome, #16)

by Ruby Dixon

“She does not ride my face as if my tongue must be conquered—”

His eyes gleam and he pats his chin. “Then come and sit.” I laugh. How is it that such a surly man has such a good sense of humor? Why does that sly smile he gives me make my heart flip in my chest?

She teases. “Because you are quick to toot your own horn there, buddy.” I reach up and touch my horn, confused. “What is tewt and why do you think I am doing it to my horn?”