“We can grab sandwiches at my house,” he said.

“Sounds good to me.” After one final glance around her room—or their room, according to John—and one last pat of her pockets, she was ready. “Let’s go.”

“You sure you have everything?” he asked, and she started another mental checklist, her paranoia kicking in at his suggestion. His dimples were showing, though, and that tipped her off to the tease. “What about a bazooka? Maybe a few anti-aircraft missiles?”

“Let’s go,” she growled, and his earnest expression cracked as he laughed. “You’re one to talk! You have more things in your pockets than I do—and more pockets.” He waved her ahead of him, and she headed for the stairs. “Besides, I don’t use guns of any kind.” Reconsidering that statement, she raised her arms in the air, elbows bent, and made her not-that-impressive biceps pop. “Except for these babies.”

He gave a burst of laughter behind her. “Why not? Seems like that’d be a good equalizer when you’re tiny and your skip is huge and armed and has some buddies.”

Since he’d sounded honestly curious, she decided to answer him seriously, rather than give him the brush-off she typically offered people who asked that question. “Because if I bring a gun to a knife fight, it suddenly turns into a gunfight. You’re right that I’m not a monster-truck-sized person like you”—she ignored his amused choke—“so I use that, take people by surprise, have a plan. If all goes well, there won’t be time for them to draw their gun, and everyone goes home safe that night. Well”—she had to pause—“the skip doesn’t go home, but they’re safe, at least.”

“Huh.” John didn’t sound convinced, although he did seem to be chewing over what she’d just said. “Do you mind if I’m armed?”

She checked in with herself, probing at the idea like it was a potential bruise. There was no lingering ache, though, no tenderness at the thought of him carrying a gun. “That’s fine. I’d rather you do what you need to make yourself safe. We’re both still learning each other’s methods. For example, you go blasting in somewhere without a plan, and I’m more thoughtful and smart and successful.”

His loud boom of laughter made her smile, but she kept her face forward so he couldn’t see how he affected her. As they crossed the living room toward the door, Warrant came running over, straight to John. Molly frowned as she watched her turncoat dog cuddle up to the guy he barely knew. John stroked Warrant’s head and massaged his ears as Molly watched, not sure if she was jealous of the man or the dog.

“Seriously, you need to confess. How’d you turn Warrant into your canine love slave?” she asked.

John looked smug as he dropped a kiss onto the top of the dog’s furry head and then straightened. “I’ll never tell. That’s between me and Warrant.” He winked at the dog, and it was sweeter and less weird than it really should’ve been.