“Oh, you didn’t know?” I keep my tone light, teasing. “Your bestbuddy goes by different identities these days.” I tip my head up like I’m thinking. “Thought I’d double-check which one showed up this morning. Is it Craig Miller?”
Ben’s hand pauses over the shells just long enough to confirm I’ve struck a nerve. Then he slides back into his easy swagger like it means nothing. “Guess it depends on who’s asking.”
Rex squints. “Wait—Craig Miller? Cybil’s boyfriend from high school?” Recollection lights his eyes, and he grins. “The one we convinced to use deer attractant as a bug spray?”
Ben’s lip quirks. “I think it was an improvement.”
I narrow my eyes. “What are you, twelve?”
“Just needed a throwaway name for some business stuff.”
“Business stuff,” I echo. “Sounds legit.”
Ben counters smoothly, “What about you? Any interesting deals lately? Work trips?” He closes the shotgun with a soft click, his smile still in place but his voice quieter. “Russian oligarchs?”
He’s watching me now. Closely. Too closely.
Since I don’t know whose side he’s on, I can’t tell whether his question is a warning or bait. Either way, I need to tread carefully.
“You’re nothidinganything?”
“Areyou?”
“Nope,” he says, with just enough ease to make it suspicious. “Just doing my job.”
“Me too.”
Rex glances between us like he’s missed the start of a movie. “Am I missing something here? Cybil’s a secretary for some developer, right?”
“Yep, just a secretary.” I smile, slow and sharp. “Although you can’t take people at face value these days.”
Ben steps closer, lowering his voice. “No. You really can’t.”
The way he looks at me—it’s not teasing anymore. It’s layered. Like he’s trying to decide if I’m friend or foe. And I’m doing the exact same thing.
I look over his shoulder at the open field, grasping for clarity, for the steady ground I used to feel under my feet whenever I was here on theranch. But nothing feels simple anymore. There’s no good reason for Ben’s smolder to affect me the way it does. None. And I know just how to wipe that smug look off his face.
“Though with the way you’re shooting, you might need more practice.”
“Ooh.” He rests the shotgun on his shoulder in the safety position. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“The only challenge I see is you hitting your target.”
I don’t know why I’m engaging in this. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s old habits. But there’s something in the way he’s looking at me that makes it impossible for me to walk away. I want to go toe to toe with him if only to prove I can. To prove I’m not the girl he spoke about to Rex all those years ago.
He sets his shotgun on the table, picks up another from the case, and checks the barrel like he’s done it a hundred times. “Tell you what,” he says, sliding a glance my way. “Since you’resocurious about my job, how about a bet?”
I arch a brow. “A bet?”
Ben leans a hip against the table, all confidence. “First one to hit two clean shots gets to ask the other a question and theyhaveto answer it.”
“Ben—”
“Truthfully,” I add, cutting Rex off.
His grin ticks up as he hands me the shotgun. “Of course.”
Rex groans. “You two are exhausting.”
