Page 15 of Danger

“No,” I say, “I just read people well.”

He grins, flashing a dimple. “Don’t tell her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, but… when areyougoing to tell her?”

Charming picks up the cat, and lets Peach drape over his arm like a scarf. “When the time is right, I guess.”

I shake my head, dunk the mop again. “I don’t like that phrase. Whose to say when the time is right? What if you miss the right time entirely?”

He meets my eyes, and for a heartbeat it feels like he’s weighing something heavier than his own secrets. “You’re a bright light, you know that, Winnie Hawthorne?”

I try not to blush, but I do, which is probably why I pretend to have trouble with the mop wringer. “So are you, Charming.”

He looks down, laughs, and the sound follows me all the way back to the bar. I drop off the next best whiskey option then start to pick-up the empty bottles and glasses scattered around.

I’m backing away from a table of half-finished beers when I turn too fast and run straight into a very solid chest.

“Oh! Sorry?—”

The tray wobbles, but a hand shoots out and steadies it before anything crashes.

“You’re good,” a deep voice says.

I look up—way up.

Shit. Danger.

Before I can even step back, someone at the bar perks up like they just saw a celebrity walk in.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Mr. Seeds from the rodeo committee says, sliding off his stool. “Dutton Stetson in the flesh.”

Danger gives him a polite nod. “Evenin’.”

Mr. Seeds sticks out his hand like he’s meeting the governor. “Man, we’re real proud to claim you around here. That ride last month? Unreal.”

“Appreciate it.”

“You need anything at all—tickets, arena time, space for training, you just call me. We take care of our own.”

I’m still standing there holding a tray like an idiot.

Anything at all. Funny. I asked that same committee for a tiny booth at the rodeo. They told me they were “at capacity.”

Danger gives another easy nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mr. Seeds finally notices me. “Oh—sorry, sweetheart, didn’t see you there.”

Clearly.

I force a smile. “Happens a lot.”

Mr. Seeds claps him on the shoulder one more time. “Seriously, son. You just say the word.”

Then he wanders off like he didn’t just ruin my night.

I adjust the tray on my hip. “Must be nice.”

Danger watches me a second too long. “What’s that supposed to mean?”