Page 62 of Trigger Happy

She waves a hand. “Things just get busy.”

How busy can someone be between making candles and snapping pictures of ricotta toast? No kids, no nine-to-five. She can’t be that busy.

She reaches for the saddle, and my heart jumps against my rib cage when I see what’s on her skin. There’s a dark, purple bruise circling her wrists. The sight perks me up. Maybe she got the bruise while she was out burying another body.

I nod toward her wrists, keeping my tone innocent and open. “What happened there?”

Her focus shifts to Arch for a split second before she plasters on a sunny smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she says with a shrug. “I just fell.”

“You… fell?”

“Yes,” she insists, her grin tightening at the edges. “It’s really nothing.” She waves me off, but side-eyes Arch again. I follow her gaze, and my eyes thin.

“Are you sure?” I soften my voice, surprised by how genuine my question feels. “If something happened, you can tell me.”

I mean it too.

“I’m really fine. Let’s get you set up on a horse. I think Dragon will be perfect for you.”

My gaze flicks to Arch again, who’s chatting with Lawton as they saddle up another horse. His hands look big enough to encircle her wrists, even big enough to circle her throat. A sharp, intense stab jolts through me. It’s the same feeling I get before I pull the trigger, like anger but darker. The intensity surprises me, but before I can do anything about it, Lawton’s hands come around my waist.

“All right,” he says. “Up you go.”

I want to ask Bobbi about those bruises, but he hoists me onto the hairy dinosaur. “A little warning next time.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

His hands linger on my waist for longer than necessary, and I can almost feel the ghost of his fingers scraping against my jaw before he kissed me. When he finally steps back, I let out a heavy breath.

The horse shifts beneath me, and I grab the reins with what I hope looks like confidence.

“Relax,” he says, patting the horse’s neck. “You’re holding on like he’s about to throw you off.”

“He might. I don’t speak horse,” I say, trying not to flinch as Dragon tosses his hair.

Mane?

“He won’t,” Lawton says like he can read the horse’s mind. “Just throw your bulleted plans away for once and give Dragon some control. You’re too stiff. He’s gonna feel that, and it’ll make him tense.”

“I’m perfectly relaxed,” I say with a white-knuckled grip on the reins.

“No. You’re not.” He steps closer again, his hands brushing over mine as he adjusts my grip. His fingers linger on the raised white scar on the back of my palm, and he strokes it once, twice. Fake, fake, fake, I chant.

“See?” he says. “Loosen up.”

Lawton hooks his boot in the stirrup and swings a leg over his own horse, Mudflapper, mounting the monstrosity with perfect ease. The sun catches on the faint sheen of sweat at his neck, and the way his thick, solid thighs grip the saddle has me reaching for my water bottle.

He glances over his shoulder and winks. “That turn you on?”

I shoot him a glare that he catches with a smirk and gently nudge my horse into a slow trot.

“Come on, Dragon.” I click my tongue. “Let’s go.”

Lawton’s horse breaks into a canter, and as he flies past me, he says, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

THE RIDE, DESPITE my initial reservations, is unexpectedly beautiful. The Tetons rise in the distance, their peaks still dusted with snow that glitters in the crisp sunlight. I’ve been watching the same hawk circle in the sky for the past hour. It’s the perfect fall day, too. Cool in the shade and warm in the sun.