Page 24

Pete handed us each a small whiteboard and pen.

“Okay, first question: diamond painting is sometimes conflated with what other craft?”

I shifted a quick glance at Andi. Did she know? I’d spent enough time haunting the craft store aisles, picking up yarn to have a pretty good idea.

Quickly, I scribbled down my answer and wager.

Andi bit her lip as she considered her answer before writing her response.

Pete waited as the other bar patrons finished humming theJeopardy!theme song before turning to us with a beatific smile.

“Okay, first up—Andi from the Rejects. Final answer?”

Andi forced a smile. “Cross-stitch?”

I held my expression calm, waiting for the rest.

“And how much did you wager?” Pete asked.

“All of it,” she responded confidently.

“Allllllll of it. Righty-ho. And, Ty, what about you?”

The older man turned his gaze to me, and I grinned. “Cross-stitch.”

“And you wagered?”

I flipped my board so he could see.

“All of it.”

Pete wiped his brow. “Wow, okay then. You two did not come to play. Let’s go to question number two. The score is still tied.”

My heart raced as I waited for the question, sneaking a quick peek at Andi. Her curls rioted around her head, reminding me of the stolen moments in the hall, and how springy they’d been in my hands as I cupped her face, kissing her.

Remembered heat washed through me, and I shifted quickly to focus on Jimmy.

One of my oldest remaining friends. One who had specified his sister as off-limits.

“Next up, the topic is famous traitors.”

Ouch. I glanced guiltily at Jimmy. I hadn’t done anything irrevocable.

Yet.

I had to keep it that way.

“This member of the Jesse James’ gang famously shot Jesse in the back of the head, which was generally considered a dick move in the Old West. Who was this dickish traitor?”

Luckily, I’d cut my teeth watching westerns with my grandpa. Jesse James was peak cowboy, and I knew the culprit.

Andi bit her lip, and watching her worry the plump flesh sent a shiver down my spine. Jimmy wouldn’t tap me in the back of the head if I hooked up with Andi, but I’d for sure be drilled out of the gang. No more workout buddies, no more game nights. I shook myself, focusing instead on my answer.

As the bar wound down their humming, Pete turned to us with a grin.

“Well, folks? What have you got? Ty, why don’t you go first this time?”

I grinned. “Robert Ford was the famous asshole who shot Jesse James,” I replied confidently.