Page 116 of Property of Bob

“I got drunk when I was prospecting and passed out in a kiddie pool. Apparently, I was bobbing around.”

Ramona stared at me for half a second before she burst out laughing.

“And you better not spread that around, doll.”

She held up her hand, still laughing. “My lips are sealed.”

“They better be.”

Her smile faded.

My thumb brushed lightly along her jaw. “I want you to know me.”

Something changed in her eyes. “I think I’m starting to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of us moved.

I could hear voices somewhere beyond the room. Somebody laughed in the common room. A door opened and closed.

None of it mattered.

Ramona’s gaze dropped to my mouth again.

That was twice.

I wasn’t imagining this.

“You keep doing that,” I murmured.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at my mouth.”

Her eyes shot back to mine. “I am not.”

“You are.”

“I was looking at your scar.”

“My scar isn’t on my lips.”

“Close enough.”

“Not really.”

Her cheeks turned pink. Fuck, that was cute.

I hadn’t expected Ramona to be shy about anything. She’d driven across multiple states by herself in an RV that was practically held together by spite. She’d walked into a clubhouse full of bikers and demanded to know where I was. She’d argued with Prime, Skull, and probably half the club since she’d gotten here.

But right now?

She looked nervous. So was I.

I’d kissed plenty of women. I’d never been nervous about it.