I could get you to smile like that, and without sales tax."

I whirled around to find the real Patch standing in the fitting room behind me. He was wearing jeans and a snug white tee. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, and his black eyes smiled down at me.
Heat that wasn't entirely uncomfortable flushed through my body.

"I could make all kinds of pervert jokes right now," I quipped.

Autore: Becca Fitzpatrick