“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 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.”

“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.”

“Are you gloating inside? That's what this is about, isn't it? Getting me to trust you so you could blow it up in my face!" [...]"I get that you're angry—," said Patch."I am ripped apart!" I shouted.”

“Shh!” the guy beside me hissed again.“Blame him,” I told the guy, pointing at Patch. The guy craned his neck back. “Listen,” he said, facing me again. “If you don’t quiet down, I’ll get security.”“Fine, go get security. Tell them to take him away,” I said, again signaling Patch. “Tell them he wants to kill me.”“I want to kill you,” hissed the guy’s girlfriend,”

“I need to get back to work,” Patch said. He gave me a once-over that lingered a bit below the hips. “Killer skirt. Deadly legs.”

“My mom's coming home soon," I said. "We should go to your place."Patch ran a hand across the shadow of stubble along his jaw. "I have rules about who I take there." I was getting really tired of that answer. "If you showed me, you'd have to kill me?" I guessed, fighting the urge to feel irritated. "Once I'm inside, I can never leave?"Patch studied me a moment. Then he reached into his pocket, twisted a key off his key chain, and slipped it into the front pocket of my pajama top. "Once you've gone inside, you have to keep coming back.”