He leaned back and nodded. “Thought so. I’d heard you married and left town.”

I grimaced. “Divorced and came back to lick my wounds.” Damn, that maybe sounded too bitter.

Crash lifted his tea and downed it in one big swig of a gulp as if there were a shot of something else in there too. He leaned forward and the burning urns threw light over a very nice set of shoulders, and some rather well-defined biceps. Of course, it made sense that he’d have sculpted arms given he was swinging a hammer around all the time. I lifted my teacup between us and watched him over the rim of it as I took another sip. Mostly because I wasn’t sure I could talk right in that moment.

Too busy drooling.

Corb and Sarge were lovely to look at, but they were . . . pups. Annie was right about that much. They were young, and still thought with parts other than the head on their shoulders.

Crash, on the other hand . . . I wouldn’t kick him out of bed. I mean, assuming I could get that far with him. That dark hair had a few silver strands at the edges that only added to the urge to run my fingers through his thick locks. I had to clench my fingers around the teacup to stop myself. Himself had pretty much no hair anymore, and what was left was short and stubbly. Not an ideal playground for a woman’s fingers.

I pursed my lips. “The wonder twins, they mostly had guns, and the blades they had were poorly made.”

“Because guns don’t take a lot of skill,” he said softly.

I pointed out the pair of pistols above us on the wall. “You have guns too.”

“Those are special.” He didn’t lean away from me. “You don’t like guns, do you?”

I shrugged. “I know how to use them, and in the right place and time they are worth having. But they wouldn’t be my first pick, no. Too much noise, too much attention.”

I must have said the right thing because he gave me a look that had me squirming. He liked what I’d said. Agreed even.

Crash tapped his fingers on the table. “Two blades, one for each thigh, not too long. No guns for you, not yet.”

A rush of excitement whipped through me. “Really? You’ll sell me two knives?”

He stood and reached for a pair of knives mounted on the wall, retrieving those as well as what looked like some sort of holster system for them.

One was the turquoise-handled knife I’d been drooling over; the other had a silver handle that was shaped perfectly for my hands.

“I’ll take four hundred for the pair,” he said. When Feish gasped, Crash smiled and added, “And then I’ll take ten percent of your first bounty.”