‘No.It suits you and that horse.’
‘Forget that and focus, Porter.Can you see this?’She practically poked the tablet in his face, displaying a picture of the horse.‘See the difference in the colouring, the ageing on his brand’s markings?I think it’s been covered with something else.’
Porter took the tablet and pinched at the screen to enlarge the image.She was right.‘I’m not a branding expert, but I do know someone who is.’
‘You do?’
‘Yeah.Runs the local stock brand register.She’ll tell you straight away if it’s a flaw in the design or something else.’
‘Where can I find her?’The hope in her eyes was just gorgeous.Made worse when she nibbled on her plump pillowy bottom lip he’d tasted and was tempted to snag between his own teeth before settling in for another one of those punishing kisses.
Deadset, this was hard…
He scrubbed a palm over his face and sat up, focusing on the tablet’s screen.
‘She lives at Elsie Creek Station.’He glanced at his watch to avoid looking at her.They needed to have boundaries, after all, they worked in the same police station.
If Amara wanted to be professional about this, he could too.
‘As it’s after sunset, you won’t get a straight conversation out of her until morning.She won’t talk business until then.’Not like Amara, who was all business, never pleasure—except when she melted into his kiss.
‘Why not?Is she a big beer drinker?’
‘Gin.By the jug full.She’s a blacksmith, who has a rule that when she douses the flames of her forge, and she’s dragged her old cattle trough to fill with ice, there is no way she’ll talk shop, or even English, after hours.Especially not when the ice hockey is playing.’He chuckled to himself.‘Although, I think her husband built her a spa, to not use the trough anymore.’
‘Can we call or email her?’Amara slapped her palm on the table, leaning forward, the excitement at finding answers shining in her eyes.She loved the hunt for clues, just like he did.
‘Send me those pictures…’ He slid her tablet back towards her.‘I’ll email her tonight and then follow up in the morning.’Hopefully, it wasn’t what it looked like.Because if that brand had been tampered with—if the horse was stolen—he didn’t want to think about how it’d effect Amara.Not after what she’d been through.
‘Thank you.’Amara tapped on her tablet.‘Can you CC me in?I’d like to meet this woman.I’m sure Finn would like to know her, too, especially if branding is her expertise.’
‘Finn knows her very well.In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t met her yet.’
‘Why?’Was there a hint of jealousy in Amara’s dark brown eyes?Or was that a level of protectiveness she had for her boss?
‘Bree is Finn’s ex-wife.’He chuckled at her surprise, which then turned into a frown—oh, she was being protective over her boss.
‘Don’t worry, Bree and Finn are still friends.Although, I think her new husband isn’t quite sure about the connection yet.Ryder Riggs, he’s a mate of the Sarge’s.’He pointed to Marcus’s closed office door.‘They drink the high-end bourbon together.Total bourbon snobs, like I’d imagine you are with your wine.’
‘I don’t drink wine.The sulphur upsets me.Like dried fruit.’She sat back in her chair, thinking hard.‘You know everyone.’
‘No.But I’m not shy about saying hello to people.’It’s something she needed to learn if she wanted to be a small-town cop.
‘I say hello.’
‘Yeah, right.’He shook his head, shuffling through the final reports for the night.‘You realise that being approachable is one thing you need on the job, especially out here?Along with being community-minded.We’re here for the people, not for the arrest numbers.’
She scowled at him.It was dark and filthy because she liked to spout off her numbers, especially the livestock they’d saved.
But then she paused, looking around the simple station.‘You like it here, don’t you?’
‘I do.Didn’t think I would.At first I thought I was being sent to the far ends of the scorched earth and that it’d suck.’
‘What happened?’
‘The place accepted me.Even if they still call me Policeman Porter, at least they know my name.’
‘They don’t know me.’
