Page 50 of Tessa and Nash

“That sounds threatening.”

“It is.”

He watches me for a long moment, then lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You realize you’re very good at this.”

“I know.”

“And what do you get out of it?” he asks, softer now.

I don’t answer immediately. I watch the steam curl up from my coffee. Listen to Buckhorn waking up around us.

“Control,” I say finally. “Clarity. And answers.”

He nods slowly. “And if there aren’t any?”

“Then I’ll say so.”

“And rules?” he asks.

“Oh, absolutely,” I reply. “No lying to each other. No improvising without warning me.”

He winces. “That’s a personal attack.”

“And,” I add, “no falling in love.”

That one lands heavier than the rest. He goes very still.

“Right,” he says after a beat. “Of course. That I think we can do, right?”

I stand, sliding out of the booth and grabbing my coat. “I’ll bring the ring tomorrow,” I add lightly. “We’ll need a story. When it ‘clicked.’”

He stares up at me. “You’re terrifying.”

I smile. “Finish your breakfast, fiancé.”

His mouth opens, then closes. He shakes his head, resigned.

“What am I getting myself into?”

Thomas isn’t home when I get back.

His office light is on, but the chair is empty, and the phone line is busy.

I leave a note on his blotter.

I have an angle. I’m getting close to McCoy. I’ll brief you when I see you next. Don’t make calls until we talk.

Then I go find my grandmother. Because if I’m going to do this, I need the ring first.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nash

January 5th

If you’ve never tried to walk a lie into your mother’s house and set it down on the table as if it’s a casserole, I don’t recommend it.

It’s cold enough outside that the snow squeaks under my boots, the kind of cold that makes your nostrils stick together when you breathe in too hard. Buckhorn Ranch sits ahead of us, lights warm in the windows, the porch light throwing a soft yellow circle onto the steps.