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“If we’re not using real names, we need fake ones. And identities.”

I grin. “What did you have in mind?”

She gives me a look. “Cowboy.”

My stomach drops. “What makes you think I’m a cowboy?”

She points at my boots. “Duh.”

Fair. I laugh. Okay, maybe she doesn’t have a clue who I am.

“Okay. Fake names,” I agree.

She nods. “You first.”

I think for a second. “Tank.”

She immediately bursts out laughing. “No.”

“What’s wrong with Tank?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“You can do better than that. It was the name of our red heeler we had growing up,” she says, shaking her head.

I can’t help my laughing. “Fine, we can choose for each other. What should my fake name be?”

She studies me. “Hmm.”

I wait, trying not to look like I’m checking her out, but I am. She’s stunning.

“Beau.”

“Beau?” I ask with one eyebrow raised.

She shrugs. “You look like a Beau.”

“That’s a terrible name.”

“Well, it’s definitely better than Tank.”

I shake my head. “Fine.”

She extends her hand. “Nice to meet you, Beau.”

I take her hand, and the second our hands touch, something shifts between us. Her skin is soft and warm, and my pulse jolts unexpectedly.

She seems to notice it too because her smile falters for half a second. Then she clears her throat. “Your turn.”

“My turn, what?”

Again, I was busy being mesmerized by her and wasn’t paying attention.

“Fake name for me,” she says, shoving her curly hair behind her ear and leaning in like she’s waiting.

I look her over. On the tip of my tongue, I want to call her gorgeous. But instead, I swallow hard.