I certainly wouldn’t have kissed you and we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Clint continued.
Fee waved his words away. “I’m not going to get into an argument about semantics with you, Rockwell. Not right now anyway.” Fee was surprised that Clint—a taciturn, will-only-use-one-word-when-three-are-needed man—was even arguing with her.
Fee placed her hands on either side of his face and rested her thumbs against his mouth. “Be. Quiet.”
“Nothing makes me angrier than when someone who doesn’t know me compares me to someone else,” Fee told him, keeping her voice low but intense. “I’m lots of things—I have a hundred faults—but I am, one hundred percent, my own person. That means I make up my own mind and I get very pissed when people assume they know what’s inside my head.”
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