When Trace simply held her hands out to her sides and looked at her, Priss asked, "Are we going to have sex now?"

His mouth twitched, and his gaze warmed, but he sounded dead serious when he said, "Yeah, I think we are.

Don't bitch about the clothes that you try on. Blush all you want--"
"What makes you think I'll blush?"
"If you don't, we won't take them.

Trace started on his way again, this time taking the lead. "She's five-four and weighs less than one-twenty. Matt can handle himself."

"Says the man with the black eye.

I'm telling you now. Without knowing for sure if you sent them, or why, I was left to my own discretion. If you want me to bother you with every little detail that comes up, just say so." He shrugged. "But I was under the impression that you wanted me to handle shit."

Murray's face reddened with bluster. "I do, damn it."

"They were shit," Trace explained. "They've been handled.

Trace cursed. He actually wanted to hit something, but a tree would break his knuckles, he didn't want to put another dent in the truck, and Dare would hit back.

You trust him, Trace, and you know it."
"With my back," Trace snapped. "Not with my sister.