I . . . hit him . . . elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“In his . . .In his inguine.”
“Oh, dear God.” It was unclear whether Ralston’s words were meant as prayer or blasphemy.
What was clear was that the woman was a gladiator.
“He called me a pie!” she announced, defensively. There was a pause. “Wait. That’s not right.”
“A tart?”
“Yes! That’s it!” She registered her brother’s fists and looked to Simon. “I see that it is not a compliment.”
“No. It is not.

Author: Sarah MacLean

I . . . hit him . . . elsewhere.”<br />“Where?”<br />“In his . . .In his inguine.”<br />“Oh, dear God.” It was unclear whether Ralston’s words were meant as prayer or blasphemy.<br />What was clear was that the woman was a gladiator.<br />“He called me a pie!” she announced, defensively. There was a pause. “Wait. That’s not right.”<br />“A tart?”<br />“Yes! That’s it!” She registered her brother’s fists and looked to Simon. “I see that it is not a compliment.”<br />“No. It is not. - Sarah MacLean



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