Come on,” he said, and then dragged me toward the house.
I stopped when we got to the porch. “What is that smell?”
Ryan sniffed his shirt and with a smile said, “Armani. You like it?”
“Not you,” I said. “It smells like someone is frying up dog vomit in your house.” This took Ryan by surprise. I guess it was pretty random. “You’re
really sick sometimes, Baker,” Ryan said. “You know that?

Author: Kelly Oram