1
“Moon eyes,” Stacy whispered.
“I tell you what I’m gonna do,” Maggie didn’t even bother turning around. “This chiquita is going to poke out the eyes of those two niños pequeños and feed them to the pigeons.” Being a Latina woman from Astoria, Oregon meant she didn’t pull out her Spanish very often, but these little boys were getting irritating.
“Too bad there aren’t any pigeons around here.”
“Why you gotta spoil a girl’s fun, huh? Just because you got Curt to put that pretty ring on your finger?” Maggie traded a grin with the Firebirds’ Number One pilot.
“Yep. Must be why I do it.” Stacy’s voice went all dreamy in a way that no man was ever going to hear from Maggie Torres’ lips.
She dug around in her toolbox until she found a nice thirty-inch long crowbar, nearly half as long as s
