He grabbed her arm and stopped her under a store awning. “Dammit. Yes, it is.”
She was staring up at him, her hands balled into fists. “Why, Kyle? Why is it suddenly your problem? Tell me.”
Because despite everything, despite the fact that you want to keep Camo, I’m falling desperately in love with youhe thought. But what he said was, “It’s my duty to keep people safe. No matter who they are.”
Her eyes widened and there was that pain swimming in them again. She parted her lips and then shut her mouth again.
“Why don’t you kiss her?”
They both turned to the older man standing in the store’s doorway. He was short with bushy eyebrows, a round belly, and a porkpie hat. For real—a porkpie hat—and an unlit cigar in the corner of his mouth. He smiled and pointed above them.
They looked up. Over their heads like a jolly holiday ax hung a clump of mistletoe.
“Well? Why don’cha?” He sounded disgusted with them, like they were the two biggest dummies he’d ever seen.
“Fine!” Kyle said. And he bent and kissed Arden full on the mouth.
“Fine!” she said after he’d pulled back, and kissed him again.
“See? All better. Merry Christmas.” And with that, the man waved them off as he turned and went back into the store.
Kyle and Arden stared after him. Then they looked at each other. And burst out laughing.
Thirteen
Arden wasn’t done arguing with Kyle, however. He offered to pay for the new cameras to make up for staying with her, and she flat-out refused. But he was quicker with his credit card and the store owner was too smart to say no.
They exited the store, Arden grumbling her thanks as she put the boxes into her backpack. The temperature was dropping and the wind was picking up. She wanted to get back to the snowmobiles and get home. Arden didn’t want to push their luck with the next storm coming in. The last thing they needed was to be exposed during a blizzard in the middle of a field. Even Camo seemed on-edge, pulling on his leash like he felt the change in the weather and knew better than to get caught out in it.
Kyle reached into his pocket and checked his phone. From his frown, he must have read something he didn’t like. He looked up at Arden with the slightest look of puzzlement.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He shook off the expression. “Now, which way to the police station?” Kyle asked.
“There is no police station in Lyons.”
“Stop bullshitting me, Arden. Which way?”
“I’m not bullshitting you. Lyons depends on Boulder County for law enforcement.”
“What? Come on, even Mayberry had a police station. You’re telling me we have to go to Boulder?”
Arden snickered. Mayberry—yeah, Lyons had that innocent vibe, if a bit more Hippie. “There is, however, a police sub-station back the way we came. I hope ‘Barney Fife’ is in today.” Actually, she hoped the opposite—that the weather had made it impossible for the sergeant or any of his deputies to get to town.
No such luck. Sandwiched between an old Tundra and a new Polaris, Sergeant George Williams’ SUV sat in front of the little red sandstone building.
“Thisis the police station?” Kyle asked. “I could put it in my pocket.”
“Sub-station. You probably think Lyons is some sort of little hick town.” But from the look on his face all day, maybe he didn’t care if it was or wasn’t. Those ice-blue eyes took in everything, and she was pretty sure he liked what he saw. Especially when they walked to the bridge over the St. Vrain. She could have stood there all day holding his hand in one of her favorite places on earth. Arden tried to remember if she’d ever taken any other boyfriends to that spot, and she didn’t think so—
Wait, what? Boyfriend? Is that what we’re calling him now? Arden, honey, get a hold of yourself.
“Lyons has everything anyone could need,” she continued. “Including a really good pizza place.”
“Did you want to get some pizza?”
“No, I have something better in mind for dinner tonight.”
