Page 236 of Worth the Trip

I lifted one brow.

Recognition arrived.

“Look at you.”

“What?”

“Using my own mess against me.”

“Annoying, isn’t it?”

“Actually, accountability looks fine as hell on you.”

“Landon.”

“Yes, baby. I’m hungry.”

“Come eat with me.”

We bought seafood plates and found a picnic table beneath one of the broad trees bordering the lawn. I had barely settled before Landon stole one of my fries.

I stared.

“You have your own.”

“Yours looked better.”

“They came from the same tray.”

“Visual assessment suggested otherwise.”

“You’re a thief.”

“Allegedly.”

I stole a piece of shrimp from his plate.

His brows rose.

“Community redistribution.”

“You developing dangerous policies.”

“I learned from an intellectual thug.”

“Who?”

I looked around.

Landon laughed.

I held the shrimp toward his mouth.

“Open, baby.” For one beautiful second, Big Lando had absolutely nothing to say. I smiled. “Problem?”

He leaned forward and accepted the bite, his lips brushing my fingertips.

“Nah.”