Skipper ticked things off an invisible list. Her bestie's taste still hadn't changed. Sloane had an eye for always getting good-looking ones.
Dusty skin. Strong jawline. Tall. Nicely trimmed beard. Dark bristly eyebrows. Dishy. Ritzy clothes. His eyes were a glimmer with interest over a stellar smile. A deep voice with an earthly scent swirling around him.
He was perfect. Too perfect.
Skipper furrowed her eyebrows at the guy, she felt he was hiding something. Or maybe Sloane was just lucky at picking up hot meats with zero good values.
"Are you sure ya name ain't fake? Fisher? Really? I ain't seen any Fishers' half as decent lookin' as you."
Skipper didn't plan to be nice with her choice of words today. Sloane had already told him about her prickly personality.
She scrutinized him from head to toe several times and could only conclude that his only blemish was his fat eyebrows, which knitted at times when he was displeased or uncomfortable.
