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“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.”