Page 210 of Property of Whiskey

The only escape route I’ve got is being an asshole. “Then you opened your mouth and ruined it.”

She shoves me.

I laugh.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You were getting emotional.”

“You said love. That’s way too fast.”

“I said damn near.”

“That ain’t better.”

“Technically is.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“This is my house.”

“Your daughter likes me better.”

“Probably true.”

She tries not to smile.

Loses.

I kiss her forehead before I think better of it.

That stops both of us.

A fucking forehead kiss.

Christ.

Sex I understand. Forehead kisses are where men start losing property and making terrible financial decisions.

Twila looks up at me. “You just…”

“No.”

“You did.”

“Forget it.”

“That was sweet.”

“Take that word out of my house.”

She laughs quietly.

I put one finger against her lips. “Shh.”

She gives my finger an offended look. Then she bites me. Not hard.

Still.