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No way she’s this nice.

Bobbi leads us into the living room to reveal the coziest setup I’ve seen. There’s a massive king bed with a fur throw, a roaring fireplace, and the open doors show off the towering mountains in the distance. Who needs an alarm when the sunrise will hit your face every morning?

My eyes land on a hand-carved wooden longhorn sitting on an end table. It looks just like one Walker made, except better. He went through a period before he died where he got really into woodworking and tried to pass off all his shitty designs as even shittier birthday gifts.

They’re all lining my dresser at home now.

My throat feels raw looking at the little wooden longhorn, and my chest starts aching. And why am I thinking about this right now? I hate that this always happens at the most random moments. I swear, my brain can’t be trusted to stay on track.

And here Sabrina is analyzing every detail in the barn.

“Are those swan towels on the bed?” she blurts.

Huh. They are. It’s a downright shame this place is housing two people who would rather kill each other than have hot married sex. Is married sex even hot? Sounds hot.

Stop thinking about sex. Focus.

I drop our bags on the hardwood. “You don’t half-ass anything, do y’all?”

“That was Arch who did the towels,” Bobbi says. “He’s so talented when it comes to things like that.”

“They’re coscoroba swans,” he says with a grin. Cos—what? “I did a stretch at a high-end hotel in Arizona, and towel folding was part of the gig.”

Sabrina and I share a glance. That wasn’t in the profile, so I wonder what else we missed.

“What do you think of the cottage? You love it, right?” Bobbi sweeps a hand toward the horses chomping in the rolling yellow fields.

Sabrina is staring out at the mountains with her jaw hanging open. I go to pop it shut, but she moves to smack my hand away, then seems to remember we’re fake married and laces her fingers through mine. Her nose wrinkles, and I bite back a grin at her disgust. That look alone is worth living together for the next month.

I hook an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders and pull her close, annoyed that I notice the way she sinks against me. “Is this up to your high standards?”

“It’s amazing, Bobbi,” she says, ignoring me, but she’s gone stiff. “Thank you for making this so cozy.”

“Of course,” Bobbi says, bouncing on her feet. “If you need anything, we’re just in the main house. Seriously, don’t be shy. Oh, and I’ll drop off a complimentary breakfast tomorrow morning as part of your stay.”

“Same goes for the swans,” Arch adds with a salute. “Just holler if you need more. I can also do a fan fold or royal fold.”

“Thanks, man,” I say. “I hate when towels are folded regularly. Big pet peeve of mine.”

Sabrina smacks my chest.

We wave like any perfectly normal married couple as they walk out, but the second the door clicks shut, Sabrina whips around with a red face and wild eyes.

“I’m going to strangle you, Montoya.”

I grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

11Lawton

Sabrina opens her mouth to yell at me but stops all of a sudden. She digs through her purse and pulls out a radio frequency scanner—of course she packed that—and scans the room for cameras. No beeps, so we can talk freely.

“I can’t believe you told them we were married,” she bites out. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth?”

My molars grind. I have a brain, for fuck’s sake. It just goes off the rails sometimes, but I know it will irritate her, so I say, “Nah, I’d rather improv life and see what happens.”

I examine a bottle of whiskey on the bar cart. Special Reserve. Nice. “Do you think towel origami is a red flag? I feel like it is, but only ’cause he made a point to call them coscoroba swans, you know?”

“Luke,” she says, using the fake name we gave them. “This is serious. We can’t mess this up.”