“Biased,” she sing-songed lightly. “Are you sure you aren’t talking about yourself?” She cuddled closer, closing her eyes and breathing him in.
He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably against her, his own eyes fluttering shut as he laughed. “I’m not that modest. No – I’m talking about you and I won’t change my mind about that, okay?”
“I’m not that amazing,” Summer objected, hiding her smile. “I’m short and smart-mouthed and insensitive and plain.” Absently, she started to run her fingertips up and down his forearm. “And I have terrible secrets.”