Free Yours to Hold: Ribbon Ridge Book Two by Darcy Burke

Maggie decided on the scallops and Kyle got the duck, both on the condition that they would share bites. This was feeling more and more like a date. She needed to remember that it wasn’t. “Do you want to show me the laptop now?”
    He looked a little surprised. “Before dinner? Okay, sure. But first, you have to try the orgasm-inducing dip.”
    Picking up a chip, she swiped it into the thick, creamy dip and took a taste. “Oh. My. God. You weren’t kidding.”
    His gaze was fixed on her mouth, heightening the pull she felt toward him. “Delicious, right?”
    She had the discomfiting—and arousing—sense that he wasn’t talking about the dip. Or maybe that was her prudish imagination. Ha, as if. The images that were pinging around in her mind at present were anything but sedate. She tried not to think of his muscular thighs or his long chef’s fingers or the breadth of his shoulders. And she sure as hell tried not to think of how much she liked him, despite wanting to keep her distance. Oh crap, this not-date was not going the way it should. “The laptop?” she reminded him.
    “Right.” He pulled it from the sleeve and opened it. He ran his finger over the track pad and turned it so they could both view the screen. He’d pulled the contacts up. The A s stared back at her. Most of them were Archers. “Can you just scroll through and see if any names jump out at you?” he asked.
    “Sure.” She helped herself to another chip and the fabulous dip, then wiped her fingertips on her napkin before turning to the computer. She scrolled down through the B s, the C s, and onward. Nothing looked familiar. Her gaze landed on a phone number at the end of the G s that looked like her brother’s but wasn’t.
    Kyle must’ve noticed she’d paused. “What is it?” His tone carried a hint of excitement.
    She shot him an apologetic glance, hating disappointing him. “Nothing. Just a number that looked familiar, but it’s not.”
    He stared at the screen, his hand frozen halfway to his mouth with a chip. “Shit.”
    “What?” she asked, her neck prickling for some reason.
    “You’re looking at the numbers as well as the names. God, I’m so stupid.” He set the chip on his plate and clicked on the name: Dane Hawkins.
    Maggie dipped another chip. “Why are you stupid? Did you miss that person before?”
    “Yes, but I know him. As Shane Dawkins—I recognize the number now. I hadn’t been looking at numbers before, just names.” He sent her a grateful glance. “See, I knew you’d be helpful.”
    A flush of pride washed over her as she swallowed the chip. “You’re welcome. Who is he?”
    His mouth formed a grim line, and his dazzling blue-green eyes dimmed. “My bookie.”

Chapter Four
    “Y OUR BOOKIE ?” S HE stared at him a long moment. “You gamble?”
    “Not if I can help it. I’m an addict.” He couldn’t believe he was telling her this, exposing his most closely held secret. He’d never discussed the depths of his problem with his family, with Derek, or with any of the friends he’d made in Florida. So why her?
    She twirled her wine glass. “Wow. So . . . you’re surprised that Alex had this guy’s number?”
    “Yeah, particularly since he went to the trouble of disguising his name. That seems to scream concealment.”
    “It does,” she said slowly. “You think this guy—Shane—had something to do with the drugs?”
    Kyle couldn’t think of any other reason that Alex would have his number. God, if Shane was somehow involved . . . Kyle’s shoulders bunched, and anger curled through him.
    She reached out and touched his hand near the laptop. The light contact of her fingers rocked through him, tossing his already overworked senses into overdrive. “Just take a breath.” Her voice caressed him, but instead of relaxing, his body coiled with frustration. “Kyle, breathe. Maybe Alex just wanted to place a bet.”
    Kyle blew out a breath. “Maybe.” He still had to have gotten the