Page 14 of Mountains Divide Us

I wondered why that was. And why had it taken him so long to ask me out? Was it the age thing? Obviously, there were a few years between us, but since I’d met him, I’d been dying to know what was going on in his head. And I guess there was the fact that, however old he was, he was most likely past the wanting-kids stage of life. That made him feel safe to me.

“Well, what’s the story with him? There has to be one because you’re blushing hardcore right now.” Juneau cleared her throat, trying to pull my attention back to her, and she wiggled her eyebrows. It felt like I turned puce from head to toe.

“I think he finally asked me on a date. Or we kind of asked each other…? I’m not sure, but I was waiting for him to leave so I could freak out.”

“Really?” She squealed. “He’s hot. Good choice.”

“Yeah, but he has to be years older than me, and he really doesn’t talk very much. He’s kind of grumpy.”

“Oh, this is classic grumpy sunshine territory. You should know this. It’s a trope I use all the time in my books, and Sam? It’s hot. Give that grump a chance.” She laughed. “You’re lucky; you got grumpy sunshine and age gap all in one guy. You’re a walking romance novel.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

Juneau was smiling and nodding like the Cheshire cat.

“Anyway,” I said with a flick of my wrist, trying to steer the conversation back to the land of rational, “back to you and the reading.”

She scoffed. “Never mind that. When’s your date?”

“Um, tonight. Like”—I checked the clock on the wall above the cookbook alcove—“in six hours.”

“What’re you gonna wear? Something sexy, right? That man has naughty, forbidden sex written all over him. You could get some if you wanted.”

I blushed again, a hot flash of need rushing over me because it had been way too long for me. Well over two years. Probably closer to three. But was she right? Was that what tonight was about? I mean, if it was only sex Frank wanted, would he have put in so much time with me? Granted, he barely spoke, but he appeared every week on time. If I was honest, I wasn’t against a quick shag for the sake of shagging. But it didn’t feel like Juneau was right.

Now, I just needed to decide if I wanted her to be.

Juneau looked me up and down. “What size are you? I think I’ve got just the thing for you to wear, if you need something. It’s a wrap dress, so it’ll fit any kind of curves you’re willing to spill, and it’s easy access if you want it to be. I’m gonna run home, grab the dress for you, and then we can talk about the reading.”

CHAPTER FIVE

FRANK

Shuffling through the usually organized papers and files on my desk, I looked for the notebook I used to log the calls I went on. The one I kept in my jacket pocket was just for quick notes; the bigger one was where I wrote everything down. Shelley had set us up with the computer program the county provided to keep track of it all, but writing these things out on paper with a pen helped me to think things through. “Abey, have you seen my case log?”

Abey Lee, my co-deputy—and some days the bane of my existence—mumbled through a mouthful of chili. Her desk was a messy pile of casework and cracker crumbs. “Yeah. It’s right here.” Pushing a scattered pile of printed papers around, she lifted my notebook from underneath, and I snatched it from her fingers. “I needed a scrap of paper ’cause Max over at Milson Ranch called. His boss is pissed about somebody stealin’ stuff outta the bunkhouse pantry. He wants Carey to look into it, but I didn’t have anything to write Max’s cell number on. I thought I had it but—”

“You can’t just take shit from my desk and rip it up, Abey. How many times I gotta tell you? And why didn’t you just ask me? You know I have Max’s number.”

“Take a pill, Frank. You weren’t here, and besides, those logs are just for your own personal organizational fits. It all goes into the computer system anyway.”

She couldn’t have texted me? “So? I like things how I like ’em. And why were you at the library earlier? You can hang out with your friends on your own time.”

“Sorry,” she said and then, under her breath, added, “stick-up-your-ass ol’ fuddy-duddy.”

“I heard that.”

“I said it loud enough so you could.” I grunted and Abey chuckled. “And for your information, I was on my lunch break.”

I flashed a pointed look at her disgusting bucket of chili.

She shrugged, still chewing. “Shelley said you took a call at the bookstore. How’d it go?” Sprinkling grated cheese over the chili, she took another bite and spoke through the slop, “Oh my God, this chili is so good. We oughta sign José up for one of those cookin’ competition shows. He’d win for sure.”

“It went fine,” I said, frowning at her general sloppiness. The woman couldn’t keep her desk clean to save her life. I always had this irrational fear the mess on her desk would infect mine since they sat next to each other. “There was a theft there too. What’s this damn town comin’ to? People just helpin’ themselves to whatever they want.”

Pushing with her boots on the floor, she turned in her chair as I changed out of the emergency uniform shirt I kept in my truck for when I got called to a case on my day off. I pulled my old Army hoodie over my undershirt, and it messed up my hair. Leaning to the side, I checked my reflection in the front Main Street–facing window. Not that it’d matter too much if my hair was messy. It was short and gray. Couldn’t do a lot with that.

“You look fine,” Abey said. “Gettin’ all gussied up for your date?”

---