“Mrs. Davies,” Denver greeted. “How is Sunset Ridge’s top realtor?”
“Jolene, please. Mrs. Davies makes me feel old.”
“Jolene,” he corrected himself.
“Put one house under contract. Closed on another. The sun is shining. Always a good day in my book when all that happens.”
“She’s going to show me a rental Wednesday morning,” Sophie told Denver. A beacon of hope illuminated in her dark brown eyes. “It’s just a small place, but I’m so tired of living out of a lodge room. And Caroline would have her own room again.”
“That’s great. I hope it works out.” Denver did his best to hold in his emotions, made easier by pretending to cool his coffee. Despair and frustration tangled in his chest at the money lost on a rental. He had a house—a real home—with plenty of room for all of them. He already knew which room Caroline would love.
Worst of all, questions stirred in his mind like a growing cyclone. How did Sophie plan to furnish a rental? She’d mentioned something about an extra loveseat in the den at the lodge, but that was hardly enough to fill a two-bedroom home. What would Caroline sleep on? Had she planned to use the monthly stipend to buy furniture?
“I was just telling her the owner lowered her asking price,” Jolene bragged, shaking Denver from his whirling thoughts. “She’s firm on the no-pet policy, though.”
“That’s understandable.” Sophie’s eyes dimmed at the news. Though she didn’t have a dog yet, she often talked about adopting one. Caroline loved Denver’s Bernese mountain rescue. Every Thursday as Sophie ushered her out the door, Caroline begged to take Sherlock back to the lodge. “Thank you for asking, though.”
At the ringing of her phone, Jolene dug in her purse. One look at the screen and she nodded a quick good-bye before answering the call. Denver watched her stride away, noting how Mrs. Davies always seemed to be in a hurry.
“Is that for me?” Sophie asked.
Denver handed her the latte, not unaware of the gentle, quick graze of their fingers as the cup passed hands. Perhaps the hardest feat of the past year was pretending that the slightest touch from Sophie left him unaffected. “I was thirsty,” he lied.
She took a sip, and the euphoric expression on her face was enough to brighten his grim day. “Guess we better get going,” she said. “I don’t want to keep you from Malcom’s dead body. Plus, I have to make sure the party decorations are on point.”
Back in the truck, Denver took his time driving through town. It was always too short a ride these days. He wanted to say something—anything—to let Sophie know she wasn’t alone. But to admit he overheard the bank conversation would only serve to humiliate her. Sophie was as tough as nails, but she was a gentle soul.
Now that he didn’t have to compete with the marathon-loving postmaster, he asked, “How was your run this morning, really?” Sophie had been logging extra miles lately, and he suspected it was a combination of determination and stress relief. He hoped the bounced check didn’t cause her to go on another run later today. Running too much this close to the race would fatigue her body in ways it would struggle to recover from.
“It felt good. I needed the fresh air.” She made a point to turn and look him in the eyes. “Found Ed eating our cabbage, though.”
“Ah, sohe’sthe reason you missed your ride.”
“I planted him his own patch; it’s gone already. But I guess you can’t exactly force a moose to practice moderation.” She fished the check out of her purse, unfolding its creases and folding it again. It took all of Denver’s restraint not to ask what she planned to do about it.
“Some days I think that moose is the only excitement we have in Sunset Ridge,” he said with a chuckle.
“Better than a real dead body, don’t you think?” Sophie’s attempt to tease felt flat as she stuffed the check back into her purse, clear to the bottom judging by how much of her arm disappeared.
“Sophie—”
“I really appreciate the ride,” she said as he pulled into the driveway. “Did you want to stay for a while?”
Though he really wanted to say yes—any excuse to spend time with the woman he loved was hard to pass up—Denver could feel how desperately she wanted to be alone. They were connected in a way he couldn’t explain. “I have to stop by my mom’s place before I get back to Malcom and that dead body. Deadline’s next week, remember? But I’ll carry your decorations inside.”
Denver had fallen in love with Sophie the instant he first laid eyes on her, more than a year ago in the Sunset Ridge Lodge. If someone had asked if he believed in all that before that moment, he’d have easily admitted he thought it was a load of crap.
But Sophie Whitmore’s endearing smile, gentle but fierce spirit, and generous heart won him over within seconds that first day his mom insisted he come with her to drop off a pie for the new neighbors. Denver was a quieter sort, more likely to reserve words for the page than conversation. Yet that day, he couldn’t seem to shut up.
“You should at least stay long enough to see the moose decorations before I have to hide them,” said Sophie once they were in the kitchen—the most common gathering spot for the Whitmore clan. She slipped off her cardigan and draped it over a chair at the large oval table. Denver had to force his eyes from her bare shoulders, because the longer he stared, the harder it was not to pull her into his arms.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
He waited while Sophie opened her package and scooped out several items. “No,” she mumbled. “No, no, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
She held up a pack of napkins wrapped in clear plastic. “Does that look like amooseto you?”
