“Don’t worry. Your guide check won’t bounce, but don’t expect more than the standard gratuity for your efforts. It’s okay to be subpar.”

Easton exhaled a small laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart, I don’t have it in me.”

“Sweetheart?”

Flushing, he actually scooted back in his chair as if to give her more room. “Sorry, that slipped out.”

Truly sounding apologetic—and a bit embarrassed—Easton glanced down at the papers on the tabletop without meeting her gaze.

Touching her fingertips to his arm to pull his attention back to her, River winked at him. “I like it better when you say it instead of the tabloids. I might actually believe you. And yes, I took the risk. I have a bad habit of leaping before I look.” Sipping her coffee, she hummed in contentment at the warmth going down her throat. “Everything in life is a gamble, Mr. Lockett. You might have a barn full of meat hooks after all. But you never win unless you try.”

A sheepish expression crossed his face. “Will you be super freaked out if I tell you I really do have a barn full of meat hooks?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She pushed his arm with the flat of her hand. “Shut up. You don’t.”

“Five bucks, you won’t even step foot in there. My great-aunt and great-uncle used to live here. Fishing and hunting wild game were how they survived through the winter. I used to be scared to death of their barn when I was a little kid.”

“How about now?” she pressed.

Easton’s beard twitched. “Now, I don’t go in there.”

River could feel her eyes widen. “You’re too chicken to take them down.”

“I’m not chicken. I just don’t…” Easton trailed off. “Yeah, it’s pretty much the worst. I’m too chicken.”

“Show me.”

“You’ll run screaming,” he warned her.

“Oh no, there’s no backing out,” River breathed. “You have to show me.”

“When you start screaming, Jessie and Bree will start screaming.”

“We’re going outside right now.”

Rising to his feet, Easton offered her his hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

• • •

As dates went, it was good they weren’t on one. Taking a woman to a barn full of sharp, pointy objects was not a great way to be romantic. Especially when Easton was struggling to keep his eyes on her face and not the curve of her hips wrapped up in his favorite blanket.

The hand-stitched quilt his grandmother had given him never looked so good.

Technically, he was showing her the barn, but River was three steps ahead of him, her hands finding the side door and tugging. Her enthusiasm would have been endearing if he didn’t think they were a few precious moments from her calling the cops on him.