He’s studying it intently, bent over, eyes roaming over every inch like it’s the missing piece to the puzzle.
It reminds me of how he kissed me Saturday night.
Intently.
With purpose.
I shiver again and add a mental head slap.
Who cares how Davis kisses women?
Not me.
Definitely not me.
I’ll kiss him again this coming Saturday at our fake wedding, possibly once or twice more if Nigel comes to town and Davis hears about it and shows up before Nigel leaves again, and that will be it.
And in the meantime, I have a drawer full of toys to help me do for myself what very few men have ever done for me, and I’m quite content with that.
“Why does it matter where the map came from?” I ask him.
“How much do you know about Sarcasm?”
“Founded by a guy named Walter Bombeck, supposedly a distant relative of Thorny Rock—who once tried to poison Walter. The two towns have been at war ever since.”
He straightens and stares directly into my soul again. Can the man do anything less intensely today? Please?
“Who told you that?”
And I’ll add Annika to the list of people I need to talk to today.
Grady’s wife is from Sarcasm.
That little intel came directly from her.
“Do you know how many people I’ve talked to while we’ve been putting this museum together? And you think I remember who told me what about who?”
He folds his arms. “Yep.”
I shrug with my eyebrows.
He watches me.
I fold my arms and watch him back.
Hello, my name is Sloane Pearce, and I’m a thirty-five-year-old nurse who has staring contests with men who have agreed to fake marry me.
Because even when it’s fake,they’re still fucking annoying.
He blinks first. “You need better security here.”
He’s not wrong.
“To protect it from people like you?” I ask.
That gets me a nostril flare, and his brown eyes go flat.
We’re so gonna sell this fake marriage thing.
