“Do you think they're going to buy that a guy in tacky leather chaps dances like this?" I scoffed when he twirled me back into his embrace. "Keep it up, and I'll put you in the chaps." He didn't smile, but I sensed an undercurrent of amusement.”

“He inclined his head at my dress. "What's the occasion?" "Homecoming," I said, twirling. "Like?""Last I heard, Homecoming requires a date.""About that," I hedged. "I'm sort of...going with Scott. We both figure a high-school dance is the last place Hank will be patrolling."Patch smiled, but it was tight. "I take that back. If Hank wants to shoot Scott, he has my blessing.”

“Nice costume," he said. "Ditto. I can tell you put a lot of thought into yours."Amusement curled his mouth. "If you don't like it, I can take it off.”

“Angel," he murmured, clasping my face between his hands. "I don't think you understand the lengths I would go to if it means keeping you here with me.”

“I turned my face up to his. I could hardly look at him the same way. I was crying without realizing I'd started. "You made a deal with Hank. You saved my life. Why would you do that for me?""Angel," he murmured, clasping my face between his hands. "I don't think you understand the lengths I would go to if it means keeping you here with me.”

“Try it on.""It's probably a little snug. Marcie tends to buy down when it comes to sizing." He merely smiled."It has a slit up the thigh." His smile depened."Zip it up?"Patch's eyes made a slow assessment of me, sharpening to vivid black. "I'm going to have a hard time sending you off with Scott in that dress. Just a heads-up, if you come home and the dress looks even slightly tampered with, I will track Scott down, and when I find him, it won't be pretty.”

“I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked.“I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house!“Tacos?”“Tacos?” I echoed.This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.”“I know what a taco is!”