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“That’s a relief,” she admitted. “Because I’m not sure I’m ready to tell you what I was thinking.”

“That good?” He stopped at a gleaming, massive black truck. The truck unlocked and soft blue lights lit up the interior.

“I’m not sure. But if we have a week,” she said, feeling her heart race a little, “I’d like to not lie to each other.”

It was true, but at the same time lightning should probably be incinerating her in one vindictive flash. She’d been living a lie. Working eighty-plus hours a week to protect a lie for years. And now she wanted honesty with a cowboy who wore ‘player’ as comfortably as his Stetson.

“Honesty.” He faced her, crowded her a little after he opened the door. “I’ll do my best, but considering we are starting off with a pretend engagement, I’m not confident honesty is a horse either of us can cling to until the buzzer sounds.”

His eyes looked inky. And the blue light caressed him, giving his stark and symmetrical features an otherworld beauty, like seeing a dramatically photoshopped picture come to life.

“We are starting with a lie,” she said. “And some mystery. But we could continue with truths.”

His eyes narrowed. “From here on out?” His voice held a tinge of skepticism.

Was she ready for that?

“Maybe since this is a game, we could have a code word likepassif we don’t want to answer. So truths only or a pass,” she suggested.

“And a safe word to get out.”

“That sounds intriguing. Like what?”

“Let me think of something good.”

A safe word. Didn’t people use those sexually? She shivered, more from anticipation than fear, only proving that she was a long, long way from Manhattan.

“I was thinking we’d discuss the goal of the game and the rules once we got to Miracle Lake,” Bodhi said.

Miracle Lake. It sounded so evocative. And on a moonlit night as summer wound down, it sounded almost holy—a rite of passage or personal ritual.

“Okay.”

“And since you’d be doing me a tremendous honor and favor this week, you can start thinking about what you’d like from me.”

Her mouth made a moue. Quid pro quo? Was he serious?

“Win-win?” she said doubtfully. Who did that?

“Girl, who the hell you been hanging with? We are now on the same team. You are my partner in this game, and I only play to win, so you got to get something out of it too, and I’ll do my best to provide.”

He looked so sincere that she probably stared at him too long. His eyes were dark pools that beckoned. But it was his mouth that her gaze kept dipping down to fascinate over. His lips were sculpted, masculine, but a little full, and that hint of softness kept her guessing what he could do with that mouth. And whether she wanted him to.

Orgasm.

If only she had the nerve to say that word out loud.

But that couldn’t be something she won. It was too pimpy to ask for, wasn’t it? Yes. Definitely. Because if it were the other way around, him expecting and demanding sex from a woman, he’d be run out of town on the tip of cowgirl boots’ pointy toes. She’d probably file a legal brief—not nearly as badass as personally kicking him out of town.

He tucked the food and thermos in the back passenger area of the truck.

“Okay, honesty. How ’bout we start with your name?” He blocked her way into the truck.

His gaze lit on her mouth, too, but the stab of heat low in her body froze.

She should have been expecting it. Not like she didn’t know his name. She’d even googled him.

What would happen if he googled her?