Faefever (Fever, #3)

by Karen Marie Moning

the-goose-and-gander thing. I’m not going to gander helplessly.” “You’re the goose, Ms. Lane. I’m the gander.” As if I could mistake his gender. “That was a double entendre,” I informed him stiffly. “I was being clever. Gander has multiple meanings. What good is being clever when the person you’re being clever to is too dense to get it?” “I’m not dense,” he said just as stiffly, and I sensed one of our childish fights looming on the horizon. “As a double entendre it didn’t work. Look up double entendre.” “I know what double entendre means. And you can just shove your stupid birthday cake. I don’t even know why I bothered!” The silence was so protracted that I decided he’d hung up. I hung up, too, wishing I’d done it first. Twenty minutes later, Barrons stepped through the door from the back of the bookstore. Ice was crystallized in his hair, and he was pale from extreme cold. I was sitting on the sofa in the rear conversation area, too aggravated to sleep. “Good. You’ve finally stopped pretending you don’t use the mirror. It’s about time.” “I only use the mirror when I must, Ms. Lane. Even for me, it is … unpleasant.”