Page 85 of Back in the Saddle

He raised his head to look down at me. “You think you’re boring?”

“I spend most of my free time watching TV.”

“So do the vast majority of Americans.”

“You’re a former FBI agent and current badass private investigator. You make pizza dough from scratch and top it with figs and shit, not pepperoni. Your first thought on what to do to spend the day together is hike. No shade on hikers, and I’d probably get some good photos along the way, but huffing and puffing my way up Camelback Mountain, getting sweaty and gross, is not exciting to me.”

“So we won’t hike.”

“Okay. But so far, mostly what we do when we’re together is watch TV and talk deep shit about our lives, and make no mistake, I love learning about you. But I think we could both use a break from deep shit.”

His was smirking sexily when he said, “Agreed.”

“And I’m not sure I’m up for a day of watching more movies.”

“Same. Do you travel?”

“Sorry?”

“We could take a day trip to Prescott or Sedona.”

I relaxed.

Maybe I wasn’t totally boring.

“I love PrescottandSedona,” I told him.

“Then I’ll make you coffee and a bagel and get dressed while you chill with some breakfast. I’ll take you to your place so you can get ready. And we’ll head out. Is that a plan?”

“It’s a total plan.”

He tipped his head to the side. “So, do you travel?”

I nodded eagerly. “It’s not like I head out and discover Arizona every weekend, and I wish Bisbee wasn’t too far away. That’s definitely an overnighter trip, but if you haven’t been there, you have to go. Though, I hit Sedona to peace out or Prescott to chill out. They’ve got totally different vibes, but they’re both awesome.”

“Right, babe, but do youtravel?”

His stress on the word “travel” had me tensing again.

“I’m not exactly financially in a position to jet to Paris,” I noted.

“Do you want to jet to Paris?” he asked.

There were a lot of things in life I wanted that I’d learned a long time ago I couldn’t have.

As such, this was threatening to get us into deep territory, so I answered, “I never really thought about it.”

“Paris is the first thing you mentioned when you talked about traveling,” he noted.

Oh shit.

“Honey,”—his hands gave me a squeeze—“we’re real. We share. That’s the deal. You don’t have to bare all. If you don’t feel like talking about this because it leads you to a place you don’t want to be right now, we won’t. But just tell me that. Don’t hide from me. Yeah?”

“I’ve never really had the money to go far, but I’ve been to Anaheim, four times. And Orlando, twice,” I blurted.

He blinked.

Oh God.

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