“Pet ... the ... moose ...,” Maisey dictates as she prints something in an open notebook. It’s a dot journal—several of my students use them every year—and I’d bet Tony’s ranch that the cover has her face on it.
That seems on brand for what I saw of her on her show.
June snags the notebook and flops it shut.
Huh. I was wrong.
It’s kid artwork.
“Mom, donotpet moose.” June gives her a look. “He wasjoking.”
Maisey beams at all of them. “I know,” she stage-whispers back to her daughter. “But he’s so funny, I want him to stay and keep telling us stories. Now. Kory. Tell us the best thing to do the next time we see a bear.”
“You call Flint. Most of the bears love him. Used to train them in his spare time.” He tips his chin at me, all broad smiles.
Like he hasn’t been on the receiving end of all my muttering about how much she doesn’t belong here and how I’ll be saving her ass from trouble all too often, since we got the email that she was coming.
I scowl.
He covers his mouth, stroking his beard, but I’ve known him too long to believe he’s doing anything but covering a chuckle.
“Too bad school’s starting next week.” Kory keeps grinning at them while he points to the open chair at the weathered plank table. “Always cuts into his bear-circus time.”
I could leave.
Don’t have to ruin my dinner by having it with Tony’s niece and her sexy laugh and hereverything’s fineattitude.
But Iron Moose has the best bison burgers this side of the Rockies, and don’t even try to tell me there are better onion rings anywhere in the world.
Nothing better to help a man heal after getting thrown off a horse.
Plus, Kory’s usually pretty good company.
Usually.
I saunter across the room and take the open seat at my favorite table, which puts me between Kory and June. I’m facing the window that overlooks the bluffs west of town as the sun dips lower in the sky, but my view of the dazzling orange sunset is interrupted by my nemesis.
Why didn’tshetake the seat where she could see the view?
This is literally the best seat in the house.
Whowouldn’ttake this seat?
There’s something wrong with this woman. Anyone who doesn’t want to take the sunset-view seat at Iron Moose is broken.
“Order yet?” I ask Kory.
“Yep. You took too long. But lucky for you, Maisey here says she owes you dinner.”
“And more.” Maisey turns that smile on me.
Doesn’t work.
Not for me.
Or her daughter, whose eyeballs are going round as she curls her lip. “Mother. Please don’t ever say stuff like that in front of me again.”
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Maisey replies. “I was offering to sew him some curtains or take a look at his electrical box.”
