“So I’ve been told.”
The tension in her shoulders eases slightly. “Okay, your turn. What did the lawyer say about the video evidence?”
“Well, I ended up on a phone call with him and the sheriff as he watched the footage. And he said they’ll look into it, as it’s difficult to tell from the footage if she actually spiked my drink or was just reaching for something on the bar. They need more to go on.”
“Damn.” June frowns, still staring at the road like she can rewind the footage with sheer stubbornness. “We need to find that girl.”
“And do what?” I ask. “She’s not going to show up and confess out of the goodness of her heart that she drugged me.”
“No,” she says, warming to the idea. “But we can do some spying. Figure out who she is. Why she targeted you.”
I glance over at her and immediately regret it, because the dress she’s wearing has ridden higher than it should from all the shifting. The hem is sitting all the way up now, showing too much skin, and my brain doesn’t know what to do with that besides spiral.
I force my gaze back to the road.
I laugh once, low. “I’m in. Always wanted to play detective.”
“I’ll get you a magnifying glass.” Then she grins, and it does something criminal to her whole face. Like she forgets to guard herself for a second. Like she’s just… June.
The wind keeps rushing through the open windows, cold enough to bite without being mean about it. It’s spring, but Montana doesn’t care what the calendar says. It smells like cut grass and wet earth and the kind of air that gets in your lungs and makes you feel too awake.
I clear my throat. “Can we close the windows now?”
“Nope.” She doesn’t even glance at me. “I like it.”
“It’s cold.”
“It’s brisk,” she corrects, like that makes it charming.
“My ears are going to hate you.”
She finally looks over, eyes bright with mischief. “You’ll survive.”
“I’m not convinced,” I mutter.
June’s gaze shifts my way like she’s trying not to smile. “You’ve got that tough cowboy thing going. I’m sure your ears can handle a little weather.”
If she knew what I was actually trying to handle right now, she’d stop teasing. Or maybe she wouldn’t. That’s the problem. I can’t tell with her.
My attention drops again before I can stop it, tracking the line of her throat, the smooth skin where her collarbonedisappears under the neckline of her dress, the gorgeous curve of her breasts.
My cock gives a throb, and it’s taking every bit of restraint I’ve got to keep my hands and my thoughts off her thighs.
She shifts in her seat, and the dress rides up another inch.
Then she speaks again, softer. “Do you have time?” she asks. “There’s this place I go sometimes when everything feels like it’s falling apart.” She hesitates like she hates needing anything. “And you seem like you could use it today too.”
I glance at her, careful this time, and find her watching me like she already knows my answer.
“Are you kidnapping me?” I ask.
“Maybe.” She tilts her head, that spark back in her hazel eyes. “Scared?”
I let my gaze drop to her mouth for half a beat, then back to her eyes. “Of you?” I say, voice lower than it should be. “Yeah. Probably.”
Her breath catches, just slightly.
“Terrified.” I lean back in my seat, stretching my legs as much as the small car allows. “I’ll gladly let you kidnap me. Want me to tie up my own wrists and ankles? Make it official?”
