Page 93 of Property of Whiskey

“What’d you steal?”

“Nothing.”

“What’re you planning?”

Her eyebrows lift. “There has to be something wrong with me being nice?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you ain’t nice.”

“I’m delightful.”

“You bit me.”

“You gagged me.”

“Still got the mark.”

Her gaze drops to my hand before coming back to my face. “You want me to kiss it better?”

Every smartass answer I have lines up behind my teeth and dies there.

Twila catches it, because of course she fucking does, and her smile turns slower.

Plan found.

I grab one of the sandwiches and carry it over. “Eat.”

“That an order?”

“Suggestion.”

“You’re learning.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

She studies the sandwich before looking up at me. “You poison it?”

“No.”

“Drug it?”

“No.”

“Spit in it?”

“Thought about jizzin’ in it.”

Her eyes narrow.

“Kidding.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“See? Knew that nice shit wouldn’t last.”