Page 36 of Trigger Happy

“And you don’t want to miss her charcuterie boards,” Arch says, tucking her into his side. “They’re legendary.”

“Who can say no to legendary cheese?” Lawton drawls.

“Can’t wait,” I add.

His thumb grazes the small of my back, right over the curve where my hip dips, and I’m trying, I am, not to think about that kiss. Bobbi loops her arm through Arch’s, and they amble away through the booths. Once they’re gone, Lawton yanks his hand away.

“Really? Asking about her scar?” he says, dodging a toddler running with a bubble stick. “Did you forget how to talk to a human being or do you need me to reprogram you?”

Heat crawls up the back of my neck. “I was trying to get to know her.”

“What’s next? Are you gonna ask how many people she’s slept with? Or maybe how much she weighs?”

My nails dig into my palms. “It’s been a while since I’ve…”

“Since you what?”

“I don’t know,” I say, waving a hand. “Talked to someone about normal things.”

I prefer fading into a person’s life, hiding in corners, and giving them common names they’ll forget. Lawton would never understand. He struts into a room with his broad shoulders and dangerous scowl, and eyes tend to follow him. He takes up space in people’s memories, but I squeeze myself into a person they’ll glaze right over.

I only stand out if it’s on my agenda.

I turn away, expecting him to make some jab, but all he does is say, “You’re a lone wolf like me. I get it, but we need to work on your people skills.”

There’s a tug in my chest, something that has me leaning toward him, but he continues with, “And speaking of people skills…” He stuffs a toothpick in his mouth. “Do you kiss all men with that much unblinking eye contact?”

That tug, thread, whatever it was, snaps. I give him my back. “Only the ones whose souls I’m trying to exorcise.”

18Sabrina

Over the next week, Lawton and I continue our reconnaissance, or recon, as he always corrects. I continue to call it reconnaissance simply to irritate him.

On Thursday, I slip two Ambiens into Bobbi and Arch’s evening chardonnay, hold their phones to their face while they’re sleeping, and hack into Find My Friends so I have their location. Lawton helps Arch mend the fence, but he doesn’t uncover much besides the fact that he listens more than he talks, fishes every weekend, and works at Roadstop Brewery for free, pouring beer out of the goodness of his heart.

They have no mob ties, no cartel run-ins, no speeding tickets. I even watch Bobbi return three grocery carts at a place called the Pantry.

They’re giving us absolutely nothing.

To my surprise, Lawton and I fall into a natural rhythm. The way his lips felt against mine crosses my mind every so often, but only because it’s been a while since I’ve kissed someone.

We sleep with the pillow wall between us (I keep my pistol under my pillow, just in case he flips a switch), brush our teeth together in the morning, and we even trade theories about what the Stocktons are hiding over coffee at Counter Culture Bakery, where a woman named Milly-with-a-y shouts order up! every five minutes. I’m not particularly thrilled we’re slipping into a routine, but it’s better than fighting all the time.

I lean back in our corner booth. “Don’t you think it’s strange?”

Milly-with-a-y pings a silver bell by the kitchen window. “We’ve got a mouthful comin’ up! One pumpkin spice oat milk latte with two shots espresso, one shot caramel syrup, extra hot for Luke!”

Lawton grabs his sugar monstrosity at the window and slides into the booth across from me. “What’s strange?”

I read Bobbi’s profile for the millionth time on Onyx. “That there’s no mention of any previous jobs in her profile? She only started the candle company a year ago. Why would someone want surveillance on them?”

“Easy,” he says, running a hand through his dark hair. “Blackmail.”

I look away from his clenched bicep straining beneath his black T-shirt. “But what was she doing before the candle business?”

“Sitting in a bathtub full of her trust-fund cash?”

“I’m serious.”