“Caw-ta n’ Aw-wie could hab der own TV show.” “You know what would help with that?” Jennie’s perfectly shaped brows lift as she aims a pointed glance at my mouth. “Fucking swallowing before you speak.” I stop chewing, and when our eyes lock, my ears burn. Jennie’s a Beckett, that’s for sure. An unfiltered smart-ass like her older brother, with his same dimples and irritating smirk. But where Carter’s eyes are a deep green, hers are a soft, cool blue, with almost the faintest hint of violet.
