Page 81 of New Nebraska Heat

“Oh, or play a game?” Serenity suggested.

“Like what?” Seb asked eagerly, no doubt dying to plop a controller in her hand and be her video game teacher.

“Truth or dare was always good for a giggle when I was a kid.” Serenity shrugged, blushing at the ears. “And it’s sort of like a trust exercise, which seems appropriate. I… I haven’t had many people I can trust in my life, but now I have it with all of you.” She brushed sparkling eyes over all of us. “And I want you guys to trust each other.” She pushed her hair behind her ear with another self-conscious one-shoulder shrug. “At the very least, it would be a fun way for us all to get to know each other better.”

I hugged her. “Sounds fun.” I looked around the loft. “Everyone want to play?”

Nods all around.

Truth or dare it was.

Bryce

Vodka splashed into my crystal tumbler.

“Thanks.” I toasted Hunter, then said in private tones, “Now, pour yourself one. You look like you could use some loosening up.”

I got a noncommittal grunt in response.

He’d grown stonier with every bite of his Chinese takeout.

He kept stealing sour glances at Dagger, no doubt wondering what he might dare Serenity to do. I myself was curious, but mostly because I was struggling to figure out what my own dare would be.

Even now, as Hunter poured himself two fingers of raspberry gin, he flicked wary eyes toward his twin and added an extra splash of liquor.

I’d thought the food would mellow the mood before we played, but for Hunter, those emptied paper boxes had become numbers on a countdown clock.

Probably best to just geton with it.

“So,” I said, “are we ready to play?”

Serenity set down her finished chocolate liqueur glass and clapped. “I am.”

From the couch, Dagger threw her a wink. “That means everybody else better be ready.” He jumped his brows at Hunter in a knowing challenge.

I sighed internally, already bracing to play mediator and aching for the days when the three of us used to laugh together as easily as breathing.

“Serenity picks first?” Seb proposed, nursing a Bloodweiser as he moved to the couch with Dagger.

“Okay,” she chimed, wiggling down into the loveseat, eyes shining with a childlike giddiness that drove home just how much this meant to her.

Dagger leaned toward her. “If you want to know if they’re telling the truth, Cowgirl, you just ask me, all right?” He tapped his temple. “Between my time on the force and my jaguar senses, I’m a regular human lie detector.”

“Now everyone’s going to pick dare, so they don’t have to get strapped to the Dagger polygraph machine,” Hunter griped.

“Not if we make the dares the prize,” Seb said, forearms draped on his knees.

“What have you got in mind, gamer boy?” Dagger asked.

“Well, Serenity picked this game as a way to get to know each other, so we should mostly stick to truth.”

She swiveled her head between us, lingering a second longer on Hunter, the skin between her eyes pinching. “Well, not if it won’t make it fun for everybody.”

Seb waved a hand. “No, see, we’ll keep the dares in, just add a little ‘red light, green light’ to the mix to keep it interesting. You ever play that?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, smile growing. My heart ached for her. All that enthusiasm over a kid’s game; it all came from beingrobbed of half her formative years. If we had the chance to give her a taste of that simple joy tonight, we’d all better take it. Hunter could suck it the hell up.

“Great.” Seb stood and crossed to the chair, offering Serenity his hand. When she took it, he led her toward the hall to the bedrooms. “So, you stand at one end of the room”—he posted her against the wall alongside the doorway—“and we’re all on the other.”