“What’s this?” I took the thermos from him and nestled it next to my thigh. It warmed my leg from the side while the box of pastries heated the top of my thighs.
“Muriel insisted that I bring a winter coffee to-go.” I’mlucky that Ranger Rick isn’t around. I’m pretty sure there’s more whiskey in that thermos than coffee.
“You mean Officer Henderson?” I smiled. “I’m pretty sure he’s got a matching thermos in his car right now.”
“Wow.” Nick put the truck into four-wheel drive and the wipers squeaked as they swiped away the snow. “It’s like a whole other world up here.”
“Small town.” I shrugged. “Where are you from?”
“New York. We have small towns there, too, but this feels like I’ve gone back in time.” The bell to the service station dinged as he drove over the cord that ran across the ground.
I could see what Nick was talking about. In Chance Rapids time did seem like it had been paused sometime in the 1960s. I could imagine the gas station attendants, in matching uniforms, running from the shop to check the oil and fill up…Berta.
“Why Berta?” The colorful lights from the Christmas display turned the frosty windows of the old truck into pretty stained glass.
The truck jerked as Nick shifted the truck into reverse. My heart paused for a beat as Nick draped his arm over the bench seat to back out of the parking spot. Underneath what appeared to be a five o’clock shadow cut a gorgeous jawline. His eyes matched the bright blue of the strands of bulbs that hung over Main Street. He wasn’t just good looking, the man looked like he’d stepped off the pages of aMen’s Healthmagazine—Mountain Man edition.
“The man who owned the truck before me was from this place in Canada called Alberta. The name came with the truck and it seemed like bad luck to change it.” He put Berta into Drive and returned both hands to the wheel. “Which way?” He squinted through the windshield, the wipers barely keeping up with the snow falling from the sky.
I pointed my index finger. “This way.”
The smile that spread across his face dented his cheeks.Not only did he have a chiseled jawline, the man had dimples. “I’m assuming that you’re pointing east.” He reached across the truck and squeezed my hand…that was completely covered in my mitten. There was no way he could see my fingers and which way they were pointing.
Giving him an embarrassed grin, I nodded. “Yes. Take a right.”
Nick took it easy, the truck creeping along at a pace that I’m pretty sure a five-year-old on a tricycle could beat.
“I like the name, old girl.” I patted the dashboard of his truck. “I’m familiar with Alberta. When I was young, I used to barrel race. The circuit took me up there.”
“When you were young?” Nick crooked an eyebrow. “How old are you now?”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“That’s young, Evie. Why aren’t you still barrel racing?”
I hoped that he didn’t detect my sigh. “It’s a long story.”
Nick nudged the bell of my earring. It jingled next to my ear, reminding me of my ridiculous outfit. “Is the story that you’re undercover and you’ve infiltrated a gang of grannies?”
I had forgotten that I was wearingmy eighty-year-old librarianoutfit. The smile spread across my face before I could stop it. I was pretty sure that the heat in my cheeks had turned them the same color as the bells that hung from my earlobes. “Not just any grannies.” I lowered my voice. “Have you heard of the Dirty Dozen?”
Nick’s lips twitched. He was trying not to smile. “I have.”
I popped the collar of the jacket. “Well, these grannies make those guys look like…” I couldn’t think of anything witty. “Pussies.”
Nick barked out a laugh. “I was not expecting that.” He smiled and shook his head. “You’re telling me that there is a group of renegade granny bank robbers, hiding out at a book club in Chance Rapids?”
“Not just bank robbers, there are a few train robbers inthere too. Although Gladys spent the evening complaining that ‘train robbin’ ain’t what it used to be.’” I gave the old-timey shucks hand gesture.
“Well, I suppose I’d better be on my best behavior then.”
I was thankful that Nick had picked up on my reluctance to discuss my barrel racing career. It was a bit of a sore spot, one that I wasn’t ready to share with a complete stranger. Nick wasn’t wearing gloves, and I caught myself checking out his ring finger. My heartbeat thumped a little harder in my chest when I didn’t see a ring.
“Why are you in Chance Rapids? Turn down this road.” I extended my arm this time and motioned with my whole hand toward Walnut Street.
The truck fishtailed as we turned onto the street, then ran behind the inn.
Are you single?
