“Head?”
“One.”
“Anywhere else?”
His eye narrowed.
“You promised questions wouldn’t become an interrogation.”
“That was three.”
“Three was the old agreement.”
I poured tea.
“Are you sore?”
“Yes.”
“Pain or ordinary soreness?”
“What would happen if I refused to classify it?”
“I would become unpleasant.”
“More unpleasant?”
“Difficult, but possible.”
He accepted the mug.
“Expected soreness.”
“Anything sharp?”
“Reid.”
I stopped.
He took a sip, then leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“I’m all right.”
“Truly?”
“Yes.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
“And smug.”
“Why smug?”
“Because I did something that frightened me, and I enjoyed it.”
Warmth spread through me.
“You did.”
