"Miss..." she didn't finish her sentence and simply sent a scathing look at Willie Crocker. It wasn't bad as much as it was rather improper. Sighing, she waved a hand, trying to erase Wille from their scenery. "Don't pay him any attention, Plymouth. He's the Crocker gone mad, that one."

She'd choose Garret any day over this Crocker. UGH. UGH. "Willie!" exclaimed the blond. "Stop spitting! Why hasn't your speech improved? Didn't I tell your brother to help you with your little problem?" Did she? She couldn't recall the last time she directed a word at that Butcher's Boy.

Almost undetectable, the corner of her lips turned down slightly. "Stop calling me, Miss Priss." Garret used to do it all the time.