Page 141 of Property of Whiskey

“Complicated.”

Twila lets out a breathless laugh. Her palm settles against my chest. No shove this time. “You really don’t want her?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Twila.”

“What?”

“I was about two minutes from putting you through my mattress before she knocked.”

Her cheeks heat. “So?”

“So if you still need reassurance, I can provide a practical demonstration.”

She bites her lip. On purpose.

“Cocky.”

“Interested in my cock again?”

Her eyes drop to my mouth.

“Yes.”

That one word nearly sends the whole damn day straight back off the cliff. I bend toward her.

My phone rings. I stop an inch from her mouth. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Twila closes her eyes. “I’m gonna shoot somebody.”

“Can’t. I took your gun.”

“Still holding that over me?”

“Forever.”

The phone keeps ringing.

I pull it out.

Bullet.

Every bit of heat leaves my body.

Twila sees it happen.

“What?”

I answer. “Yeah.”

Bullet’s voice comes hard through the speaker.

“We got trouble.”

I walk toward the kitchen. “What kind?”