“I know,” I say softly, deciding not to focus on the ‘job’ part. “And still, thank you.”
He glances at me one more time, gives a quick nod, and goes back to driving.
“Why were you here, by the way?”
His neck moves in a rough swallow, and he starts tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I was coming to check on you.”
“Did my story prove me not guilty?” I bite my lower lip, sounding a bit flirty even to my own ears. Too late to take it back though.
“Yeah. But that’s not why I was coming.” He sounds a bit shameful, even though I’m not surprised that he probably called Archie or Leila the moment he drove off. He must know everyone around here.
“Why?” It’s hard to drown the curiosity in my voice.
“There was a moose,” he says on a forceful exhale, and his cheeks turn the lovely shade of my favorite blush called ‘orgasm.’
“A moose?” I ask, unsure if I heard him correctly since I was busy staring at his face.
“Yes, a moose.” He shakes his head. “Never mind that. I heard about a bear sighting, so I had to come and check on you.”
I consider his words for a moment. I’ve been nasty to him—of course, after he was nasty to me, but that’s not the point—and yet, he felt compelled to come and check on me. Cops in my hometown would leave me to rot (or be eaten, even better), happy they were rid of the problem despite it being their job.
Also, what’s the story with the moose? Is it the same moose Alicia told me about? I think they call him Frank. He’s like an urban legend here or something.
When the Sheriff parks by the bed and breakfast named Dancing Pony, which looks like it just stepped out of a medieval movie, he half turns toward me.
“Go, check.”
“Okay,” I reply quietly, and before opening the door, I add, “Really, Sheriff. Thank you.” I know his name since Alicia told me a few things about him when I explained my unfortunate arrival to town, but somehow, it feels too intimate to call him that when he keeps insisting all of it is part of his job.
He nods. “Go.”
He’s so fast to get rid of me, and I can’t even blame him. Not after the way I spoke to him from the very first time we met. My mood darkens as I pull on the door and climb out without a second glance.
ChapterTen
JOSIE
When I step inside a dark foyer, I’m instantly hit with the authenticity of the place—it matches the outside so well. Gaping around at the beautiful wooden pieces of furniture straight out of my favorite old movies, I don’t notice the person stepping out of the dark.
“Hello,” a female voice suddenly says from my left, making me jump.
“Fucking hell!” I yell, and she laughs.
“Oops, sorry.” She chuckles, not sounding even a bit remorseful. “I thought you knew I was around.”
“No.” I pat my chest, trying to stop my palpitations. “I was too busy admiring the woodwork.” Glancing at the coffee table to my right, I ask her, “Where did you get all of it from?”
“What? That table?” she asks as she follows my gaze.
It’s gorgeous. Made of three large trunks cut to about two inches thick that are put together in a perfect line, it sits on four massive, lacquered legs. Each leg is carved with numerous tiny ornaments, and I’m sure if I lean closer, I’ll see some sort of detailed picture woven together. That’s a masterpiece right there.
The lady clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her. When I look up, I find her smiling at me with a raised brow.
“Yeah, all of it. Where did you get it?” When I’m on a treasure hunt, I cease to be polite. Mentally smacking myself in the face, I add a warm smile to my question to not sound like a total moron.
She must have noticed it because she lets out a Tinker Bell-like laugh. “Oh, I bought it from the local carver.”
My mood instantly perks up. “Really? Who?”
