You’re going to have some really sexy scars back here, Owe.”
“Do girls go for that sort of thing?”
She was surprised to hear him speak and realized he’d spit out the piece of wood. It was marred with impressions of his teeth. “Scars like this are a sign you’ve survived in battle.”
“Some battle,” he said ruefully. “Me and a cactus going three rounds, and I nearly bit the dust.

Author: Joan Johnston