Page 68 of Trigger Happy

“No, it’s fine,” I say, clearing my throat. “I just didn’t expect us to talk about our sex lives over energy bites.”

“You’re right. It’s definitely a chocolate cake kind of conversation.”

“Are y’all gonna sit there talking all night?” Lawton shouts, showing off two neon plastic Cider Bla$tarz. “Or are you ready to play?”

Arch cracks his knuckles. “And don’t think I’ll go easy on you two just ’cause I like you.”

“Yeah,” Bobbi agrees, helping me to stand. “We’re competitive. A couple of years ago, I might have made a guy cry because of some light trash-talking.”

“Guy?” Arch interjects. “The kid was eight.”

“Oh, we’re ready,” Lawton says with a shit-eating grin in my direction. “But my wife’s aim is about as good as her taste in coffee, so she might need some help. Ain’t that right, baby?”

He spins me by the waist, turning me toward a row of metal apples ready to rocket to the top and ring a tiny bell. “How ’bout I show you how it’s done? I know you haven’t had any real experience shooting a gun, but all you have to do is point and pull the trigger. Think you can handle that, honey?”

I fight an eye roll. He knows I could hit that target if I were blindfolded in a hurricane.

“I’ll manage, sweetie.” I tighten my grip on the toy gun.

The guy running the booth lifts a whistle to his lips. “Everyone line up! On the count of three!”

Lawton’s chin brushes my shoulder as his fingers lace over mine, sending heat blazing through every place we touch. “Nice and steady, now. We don’t want you getting distracted.”

He bites my earlobe, and a zing of heat shoots through me. That’s fine. Two can play.

“One… two… three!” the guy calls out.

I twist toward Lawton and catch his mouth with mine right as I pull the trigger. He sucks in a surprised breath. Apple cider shoots out in a thin stream, making the metal apple rise while his groan rumbles against my lips. I keep kissing him, even throwing in some complicated tongue movements just to prove a point.

It starts off as a tease, but somewhere between his hands searing my waist and the cinnamon apple taste on his lips, I forget this is all an act. Our mouths sync up, moving like a memory. By the time the buzzer goes off, he’s hard against my back and there’s a hot ache pulsing between my thighs.

“And we have a winner!” the guy managing the booth yells.

I glance down the line of people. Everyone else is still spraying cider, struggling to get their apple halfway to the bell, but Bobbi and Arch are done. It looks like we just barely beat them.

Bobbi curses.

Arch lets out a laugh and says, “I can’t believe you two stole our title. Guess we’ve been underestimating you.”

My eyes narrow. They might be the reigning champs, but that’s suspiciously good aim for an amateur fisherman and a woman who makes lavender soy candles for a living.

I pull away from Lawton, a little breathless, a lot smug. “How’s that for good aim?”

He doesn’t respond, just stares at my lips. I think he might lean in, but he shakes his head and steps back. “We should go find that booth.”

Oh.

My shoulders fall as the cold, cinnamon-laced breeze fills the distance between us. Right. The assignment. It’s been a few days since we’ve shared anything with the client on Onyx. We should really check in with details. We have a job to do here, after all, and I’m the only one who forgot.

34Lawton

That fucking kiss.

It actually made me dizzy, and now I’m about to do something real stupid because of it—like rip my ex-nemesis’s sweaterdress off in the middle of a fall festival and get arrested for public indecency.

That’s how I know my head’s not screwed on right. And it’s not just the kiss. It’s the way she’s leaning into me instead of pulling away. Sabrina doesn’t rely on anyone. Never has.

But she’s relying on me.