Page 46 of Trigger Happy

I grimace.

At least her people skills are improving.

Sabrina strolls down the steps of the Little Red Barn in black cargo pants, a long-sleeve wick-away shirt, and… I lean closer. Is that a bulletproof vest? Overkill, but she looks good. So good that my hiking pants feel a little snug.

That kiss.

I hold in a groan because the reminder is doing things to my body that I won’t have time to take care of until I’m showering alone.

“Mornin’.” Arch rocks back in his boots. “What’re you two up to today?”

“Hiking.” I slide an arm around Sabrina’s waist and pull her to my side. She goes rigid against me but lets me tug her close.

“Yeah?” Arch says, tying back his brown hair. “Where to? Need any recommendations?”

We planned to hike to the coordinates Sabrina found on Bobbi’s wrist, but I can’t tell him. What’s a hike in the area? The Forge? No. That’s not right. I should’ve looked it up. There is this great pizza joint by Penny Lake, though, that has this jalapeño BBQ chicken honey pizza that I’d kill for. Seriously. They drizzle locally sourced organic—”

Sabrina jumps in, cutting off that rogue thought. “The Forks. I heard it’s beautiful.”

My shoulders loosen. I’ll give it up to her. She thinks ahead, and doesn’t get distracted by BBQ chicken pizza.

Arch nods. “You’ll like it out there. It’s quiet. Not too many people this time of year, either.”

Is that a threat?

“Perfect,” Sabrina says.

My hand drifts to the curve of her back, but she tosses me a look that says, if your hand touches my ass, you won’t have one anymore, so I don’t go any lower.

“Well,” he says, clapping his hands. “Have fun. Don’t get lost.”

Arch starts back toward the main house down the gravel path. He stops to feed the horses some hay, but the minute he turns around, Sabrina’s sliding out of my grasp. “Touch my ass again and you won’t be able to use your right hand.”

“It’s a good thing I’m ambidextrous.” I’m not about to lose a fight to a leftie just because I didn’t practice with both hands. I shove the coffee in her face. “Here.”

She eyes the to-go cup. “Is it poisoned?”

“Nah, too much work, and I forgot to pack my arsenic.”

She takes a careful sip. I go to open the passenger door for her, but she beats me to it, sniffing the air. “What does it smell like in here? Is that cardamom?”

Cardamom, then.

“Don’t know. Why are you wearing a bulletproof vest?” I say, shutting the truck door.

She pulls on her seat belt. “Because September is mating season.”

“And you think a bulletproof vest will attract a mate?” She rubs her arms, so I turn up the heat.

“It’s mating season for the animals,” she says. “The last thing I want is to be attacked by an angry mama bear on our hike.”

“It’s the mountain lions you’ve got to watch out for, and I’m pretty sure a bulletproof vest won’t scare them off,” I say, reversing out of the driveway lined with trees.

The red leaves are overtaking the gold now. We don’t get these kinds of colors down in Texas. Ma always says the Hill Country rusts this time of year, the leaves turn more of a dark, muted orange, not these bright reds. I like it here.

Sabrina drops a backpack that probably weighs about as much as she does on the truck floor and starts rummaging.

“What are you gonna pull out of there?” I ask, flicking on my blinker. “A bomb? A baby? Fuck. Don’t pull out a baby.”