Page 80 of Fixed Asset

Oh . . .

Well . . .

That was a nice thing to say.

“No dice, my good fellow. I am my own special brand. A one-off, never to be made again.”

“So what you’re saying is, I have to challenge Jack to a duel at dawn and hope I’m quicker on the draw so I can take you from him and not look over my shoulder every day for the rest of my life.”

Jack growled.

I smiled.

“You could hope you’re quicker than Jack, but I guarantee you I’m faster than the both of you, so you’d lose the duel and I’d ride off into the sunset with Jack.”

I dreamed of us horseback riding—and baby, I gotta admit, that one threw me. My ass has never been on the back of a horse, and I have no interest in ever riding.

My smile got bigger.

The laughter I heard that time was definitely Jack.

“You think you’re faster on the draw than me?”

“No doubt. When we get back from Mexico, I’ll prove it to you.”

“Ten bucks says I’ll smoke your ass.”

That made me crane my neck and look over at the makeshift workstation—a.k.a. two end tables pushed together so Ryan and Aiden could open two spiral-bound road atlases.

Ryan looked smug and sure of himself. Aiden was giving me a ‘you don’t wanna make this bet’ look. I glanced at Jack, and his features were neutral.

“Twenty bucks says I can draw from the hip and put a bullet downrange faster than you. Another twenty says I can clear a course faster than you. I’ll throw in another ten that I score higher on accuracy too.”

Suddenly, Ryan didn’t look so sure. “I feel a moral obligation to warn—”

“You’re not morally obligated to tell me anything,” I cut him off.

“Because you don’t want to have to reciprocate and tell me your quals.”

He was correct.

I shrugged.

“You’re on.”

I nodded and looked back at the tablet with Shep’s report. “Just don’t be a sore loser and bellyache when I take your fifty bucks.”

“I never lose.”

Famous last words.

“Oh, and I don’t take ones. My name’s not Candy, and I don’t wear glitter and clear platform heels.”

“Do strippers still accept dollar bills?” Mason joined, because of course he wouldn’t miss out on a stripper conversation. “I thought with inflation they were up to fives.”

“Like you don’t know,” Aiden threw in.

“Never been to a strip club. What, do they only accept Venmo and Cash App now?”