“So where are we going?” I ask.

He winks at me and I melt all over again. A gut punch in the stomach every time.

“Oh, so now you ask where we’re going? Lila, how would you like to go to a honky-tonk?”

I smile back at him.

Here we go again.

***

The restaurant is located high on the top of a big hill with a spectacular view of green mountains in every direction. A large deck overlooks the valley stretching out for miles below.

Sam pulls into a parking spot at the far end of the lot.

“What do you think about God’s country?” he asks, waving a hand at the mountains.

“It’s beautiful,” I say. “I can’t imagine what it must be like waking up to a view like this every morning. The traffic in Atlanta gets to me sometimes.”

He squeezes my hand. “Ever thought about moving? You could have this every day too. There’s nothing that says you can’t.”

I look over at his handsome face, not at the mountains.

There could be worse things than waking up to the view of Sam every morning.

Wishful thinking won’t get me anywhere.

“Don’t move,” he says. “I’ll get the car door for you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of opening a car door, Sam,” I say.

He laughs. “I know. I’m trying to impress you, so work with me here, okay?”

I roll my eyes and sit there like an invalid while he walks around and makes a big show of opening the door and helping me out.

“Don’t forget the tequila,” I say, pointing to the trunk.

“I almost did. Thanks for reminding me.”

He unlocks the trunk and pulls out a brown paper bag.

“We’re brown bagging it?” I tease. “That’s a big bottle. Were you planning on us drinking the whole bottle by ourselves? I have to warn you, I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. A little bit goes a long way with me.”

Not true.

For some bizarre reason, I can drink most men under the table and not even be the least bit tipsy. Must be my metabolism. This little party trick has come in handy plenty of times when working undercover. It always surprises me what people will do and say if they think I’m drunk. I’m dying to know how long Sam’s Southern boy good manners will last if I’m tipsy.

I hope I’m not disappointed.

We walk into the restaurant with Sam holding onto me with one hand and the bottle of tequila with the other. Loud country music is blasting from a room towards the back of the dining area.