So, are we still on tonight? For our dinner?” I asked.“Hell, yes. We’re on for tonight. We’re on for tomorrow. We’re on for the foreseeable future.”.

So, are we still on tonight? For our dinner?” I asked.“Hell, yes. We’re on for tonight. We’re on for tomorrow. We’re on for the foreseeable future.

Oh. "So the best way to fight you is to strip naked and attack?"His eyes flashed with a wicked light. "Yes. You should try it and see what happens.

One school of thought says that the best way to handle an issue like this is exposure therapy," Mad Rogan said. "For example, if you're terrified of snakes, repeated handling of them will cure it."Aha. "I'm not handling your snake.

Speak to me.""I hate you.""Okay." Mad Rogan let go of me. "You're fine.

Do you have a girlfriend?” Grandma Frida asked. I put my hand over my face. “No,” Mad Rogan said. “A boyfriend?” Grandma Frida asked. “No.” “What about . . .” “No,” Mom and I said in unison. “But you don’t even know what I wanted to ask!” “No,” we said again together. “Party poopers.” Grandma shrugged.

Had I known you were going to pull a pretty ribbon out of your sleeve like some two-bit magician, tie me up with it, and indulge your mental torture fetish in your basement, I would've shot you. Many times.""Two-bit magician?""Men like you enjoy being flattered.

And let’s be honest, you weren’t exactly harmed. I even took you home.” “You dumped me on my doorstep. According to my mother, I looked half dead.” “Your mother exaggerates. A third dead at most.” I stared at him. Wow. Just wow.

Can you turn so you’re not pressed against me?” “I could,” he said, his voice amused. “But then you would have to lie on top of me.” My brain said, “NO.” My body went, “Wheee!