Page 188 of Property of Whiskey

“Yeah.”

That stops me.

He shrugs. “You’re a fucking pain in the ass.”

“Thanks.”

His smile flashes. “Bossy. Stubborn. Mean when you’re scared.” He counts them against his fingers instead of touching me.

“I ain’t scared.”

“See?”

He’s standing directly in front of me now but still hasn’t put a hand on me. “You know what else?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“You’re brave.”

I look away.

His hand rises into my line of sight and stops before reaching my face.

A question.

I don’t move away.

His fingers settle lightly beneath my chin, and I look back at him.

“Loyal as hell.”

I swallow once.

He notices.

“Whiskey.”

“Good at your job.”

“You don’t think that.”

“I know.”

“Fuck you.”

“And you’re fucking gorgeous when you’re mad.”

Heat climbs into my cheeks.

“Stop.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because somebody spent a lot of time teaching you that too much woman was a problem.”

His voice lowers, and something in the way he looks at me makes it hard to breathe normally.