Page 38 of Trigger Happy

I have to keep reminding myself that someone wants intel on Bobbi, so I don’t fall for her charm. That knowledge makes me more determined to find the cracks in her rustic-luxe lifestyle, because the only thing this perfect is the Girl Meets Cowboy set.

“Oh, and thanks again for the goat soap. That’s seriously so sweet,” Bobbi says, resting her elbows on her marble kitchen island that was shipped all the way from Carrara! Or was it Turkey? Arch!

I gesture to the wooden cutting board full of prosciutto-wrapped dates, a scattering of almonds, and olives in a little bowl. “After you made all this? It’s the least I could do. I mean, how’d you know I liked warm brie with fig jam?”

“Who doesn’t?” She uses a crostini to scoop out a dollop of brie. “And I love hosting people. Gives me an excuse to spend twenty dollars on cheese I can’t pronounce.”

She pauses to swallow, and I try to come up with a natural segue to shift the conversation to something more revealing. “I’m surprised Stan doesn’t sell goat cheese with all those soaps.”

Eh. Decent.

“Oh my god, that’s genius.” She slaps the marble counter. “Isn’t Stan just the best?”

“The best,” I agree, popping an olive into my mouth. “How long have you known him?”

She thinks for a second, her blue eyes squinting. “I’ve been stopping by his booth for a few months now.”

“Only a few months?” I prod.

“Mm-hmm. This ranch has been in my family forever, but I’ve always been more of a free spirit. I spent a while hopping around the world, staying anywhere that would give me a work visa. Then I met Arch and convinced him to move back here with me, because as much as I loved all those places, you just can’t beat the Tetons. There’s something so compelling about the mountains. You could disappear and no one would find you. I’m obsessed.”

Disappear, huh? What does she get up to in the mountains?

“And so I told him he should pack the fuckin’ toolbox!” Lawton’s voice booms through the sliding glass doors.

Out on the sprawling wooden deck, Lawton’s talking to Arch, probably bonding over cowboy boots or something. Bobbi walks into the pantry to refill the crostini, so I head outside and take a seat on the outdoor couch next to Lawton, careful not to touch him. He’s already relaxing by the crackling firepit. The saffron ball of sunlight hovers just above the mountains, teasing the end of the day.

Lawton glances at the sliver of space between us, and then hauls me onto his lap without hesitation. “What have you been up to, Wife?”

His voice curls around the “wife,” and heat flutters down my spine. My brain fires off flashing-red warnings, but it seems to have lost communication with my body.

It’s not fair that he’s so unfazed, but if he can act normal, I can too. I slide my hand up his thigh, hoping to see him thrown off, but that insufferable grin doesn’t budge. “Bobbi was telling me about all her traveling.”

“You’ll have to get her to tell you the story about how we met,” Arch says, sipping from his tumbler. “How’d you two meet?”

“Wait!” Bobbi shouts from the gigantic sliding glass doors. “Don’t tell it yet! This is my favorite part. I need all the details.”

She rushes back outside and plops onto Arch’s lap, burrowing into his chest like a little blond hamster. “Okay, I’m ready now. Let’s hear it. I want to know everything. Well, not everything everything, but almost everything.”

“You want to tell them?” Lawton murmurs against my neck.

The place where his breath meets my skin tingles, and I wish I could tell my neck this is fake. “Why don’t you? You tell the story so much better than I do.”

The faintest glimmer of panic flares behind his eyes, but this is what he gets for scoffing when I said we should practice Our Story.

“Okay,” he gulps, scrambling. I bite back a victorious grin. “Well… Our families have known each other for a while, but the first time I saw her was, uh, at a gala a while back. Years ago. In, um… Monte Carlo. It was in my early twenties.”

A gala? I didn’t know Lawton knew that word.

“Okay, love it already. So glamorous,” Bobbi says, leaning forward.

“Yeah.” He coughs into his fist. “I didn’t know who she was, so I asked my brother, and he said, ‘That’s Sab—Sophie—and don’t even think about it. She’s off-limits.’ ”

I smile so hard my molars grind. What happened to the meeting at a mutual friend’s wedding story? He better have practiced this.

“Forbidden love. Classic,” she says. “Why was she off-limits?”

“Our folks are in the same industry, but they don’t like each other,” he explains, toying with my hair. “But I couldn’t stop staring, and neither could everyone else. She had all eyes on her that night.”