“Are you crazy?" I said."Crazy about you.""Patch!""Don't worry, we've got time.""How do you know?"He staggered back a step, with his hand over his heart. "Your lack of faith hurts.”

“This is crazy," I told Patch in an undertone."I'm crazy." He was on the brink of smiling again. "About you.”

“You didn’t tell me she was so soft on the eyes,” he said to Patch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He spoke with a heavy Irish accent.“I didn’t tell her how hard you are on them either,” Patch returned, his mouth at the relaxed stage just before a grin.”

“Patch leaned back against the booth and arched his eyebrows at me. The gesture said it all: Pay up."You got lucky," I said. "I'm about to get lucky.”

“I didn’t break his jaw, but if he lays a hand on you, it will be the first of many things to break,” Patch said.”

“This isn't over," I said. "After everything we've been through, you don't get the right to brush me off. I'm not letting you off that easily." I wasn't sure if it was a threat, my last stab at defiance, or irrational words spoken straight from my splintered heart."I want to protect you," Patch said quietly.He stood so close. All strength and heat and silent power. I couldn't escape him, now or ever. He'd always be there, consuming my every thought, my heart locked in his hands. I was drawn to him by forces I couldn't control, let alone escape."But you didn't.”

“I watched him pitch the ball at a table neatly lined with six bowling pins, my stomach giving a little flutter when his T-shirt crept up in the back, revealing a stripe of skin. I knew from experience that every inch of him was hard, defined muscle. His back was smooth and perfect too, the scars from when he’d fallen once again replaced with wings—wings I, and every other human, couldn’t see.“Five dollars says you can’t do it again,” I said, coming up behind him.Patch looked back and grinned. “I don’t want your money, Angel.”“Hey now, kids, let’s keep this discussion PG-rated,” Rixon said.“All three remaining pins,” I challenged Patch.“What kind of prize are we talking about?” he asked.“Bloody hell,” Rixon said. “Can’t this wait until you’re alone?”Patch gave me a secret smile, then shifted his weight back, cradling the ball into his chest. He dropped his right shoulder, brought his arm around, and sent the ball flying forward as hard as he could. There was a loud crack! and the remaining three pins scattered off the table.“Aye, now you’re in trouble, lass,” Rixon shouted at me over the commotion caused by a pocket of onlookers, who were clapping and whistling for Patch. Patch leaned back against the booth and arched his eyebrows at me. The gesture said it all: Pay up.“You got lucky,” I said.“I’m about to get lucky.”