“Our lips are millimeters from meeting again when he says, “I need to know something, and you have to promise to be honest.” “I’m always honest with you,” I protest. “Good. I’m holding you to that.” Those gorgeous brown eyes gleam. “Did you throw the shootout?” I know exactly which shootout he’s referring to. My lips quiver, so I press them together to keep from grinning. “Well?” I shrug.”
