“Both.”
“You’re already here, so let’s talk.” He pointed to her van. “How about in there?”
At her nod, Mick rushed around the vehicle to climb in on the passenger side. As soon as she’d closed her door, she recognized that the interior of the van wasn’t a great idea, either. The air inside was too thin, too intimate, with scents of snow and masculine sweat twining. She sneaked a ragged breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Where’re we headed?” He pointed to the windshield.
“We don’t need to drive anywhere.”
“Didn’t you just say everyone in town knows everything?”
“But—” She scanned the streets for more dog walkers or shifting curtains.
“Then let’s get out of here before someone sees usparkingright on Maple Street.”
His stress on the word and his annoying grin as she pulled away from the curb made her cheeks burn.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
“Try.”
Without a destination in mind, she turned left on Walnut Drive and then right on Willow Lane. Rows of well-kept 1950s ranches and the occasional early 1900s Queen Anne–style home marched past them in silence and her slower than normal speed on the icy roads.
“Do teenagers even use the term ‘parking’ anymore?” Rachel blurted when she could no longer bear the quiet. Great. She’d turned the conversation back tothat?
Again, his smile. The uninvited tingles were hers.
“You’re asking me?” He scoffed and then chuckled. “I have no idea what teenagers say now. But stop stalling. What had you upset enough to talk to meagain? You might have missed it, but our conversation last night didn’t go well. And, for that matter, why did you show up when I was supposed to be at work?”
“I’ll answer your questions after you tell me why you were walking home in this?”
She pointed to the mess the windshield wipers shoved aside with each swipe.
“I needed clothes since I wasn’t set up at the station yet when I came in to help with last night’s fire.” He patted the knees of his damp jeans. “And I left my truck at the scene. I needed someone to drive me back to pick it up. Thanks for volunteering.”
“You could have taken a rideshare like in the big city,” she said with a smirk.
“I checked my app. No drivers within fifteen miles of the station.”
“Sorry. I can’t help, either. I have to pick up the girls at school in—” she paused to glance at the dash clock “—seventy-six minutes. And the roads are lousy.”
“That’s over an hour. Isn’t Mount Isabel only two miles north to south? And this is nothing for you. I thought Michiganders took pride in their superior snow-driving abilities.”
She lifted her shoulder and let it drop. “Fine.”
Instead of continuing straight, she moved into the right-turn lane and headed south.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“The fire was on County Road 600 East. Photos are up on theInformerwebsite.”
“And you always check.”
He didn’t present it as a question, and she didn’t deny it. Having lived with a police scanner as a lullaby since childhood, she always craved immediate emergency information.
“Okay, your turn.”
“After the sirens last night, I’d guessed you’d need to stop home for a few things.”
