If his touch is keen, he'll feel the muscle beneath her layers, the way they tighten and sit poised for action when his hands pause near her guns. She ain't no fool. She knows intimacy makes as good a distraction as any if someone wants to, say, steal a weapon and cause a fuss.

She may be little, but she can handle herself in a tussle, and there ain't no God in this universe who'll have his side if he tries to take her Colt.

So the kiss comes at a small surprise, and though she returns it like a woman who knows what she's doing, a small part of her stays with his hands and her gun. She's chuckling when they break, teeth dragging over his bottom lip.

"Honey, you've got a death wish."

She yanks him back in for another, in part to make sure the job is done right, and in part because it's been a long time since anybody's kissed her like that.