Chapter 3 #2
“A logical deduction.” I smile at Arlo and give him a wave of my hand. “Lead the way, oh knight in flannel armor.”
“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, but I see the quick tick of his lips as he marches up the stairs, leading me to what I hope is a bedroom.
“Lark has your key. You guys will share a Jack and Jill bathroom, but you each have separate keys.” He looks over at me, silently asking if that was the right thing to do.
“Yes, good sir.”
“Crazy woman on the side of the road.” He coughs as his heavy footfalls land on the top stair, and then he leads me to a bedroom. “The town shuts down at eight.”
“Sorry, what?” Why does that excite me? A small town that shuts down at a specific time? Yeah, I’m here for it.
“Except for the bar.” He cracks open the door, but I don’t look yet, I’m too stuck on this conversation.
“There’s a bar?”
“A pub.”
“What’s the pub called?”
“It’s across the street, that way.” He points toward town. “Half a mile, then it’s another half mile before you hit town.”
“So the bar isn’t in town?”
“Ernie didn’t think it would be a good idea.”
“Who’s Ernie?”
“The mayor,” he answers with exasperation. “Keep up.”
I’m just surprised he’s keeping up with me. “The town closes at eight?” I ask again.
“Yes, except for the bar, we’ve been over this. My sister Sera owns the bar.”
“Not the sister who runs the schoolhouse, I hope?” If she’s drinking on the job, that’s a whole new can of worms.
“Different sister.”
“How many do you have?”
“Just the three.”
“And the mother?”
“The crazy old lady in the cemetery.”
“I’m already fond of the crazy old lady in the cemetery. But…” I lean into him, catching the spicy scent of his cologne. “Does she have a name?”
“Saffron.”
“Like the spice?” How ironic.
“Why are you so curious?”
I hide my smile by pinching my cheeks. “Just studying.”
“Yeah, well, don’t.”
“Don’t be a party pooper, this was fun.” And just because it’s me, I add, “It’s almost like it was a date.”
“What?” he screeches, knocking off his beanie with one hand, revealing the most delicious dark hair I’ve ever seen in my life. Falling to his shoulders, he has it pulled back into a partial ponytail with the sides shaved.
I’m so glad I knocked him off-kilter, otherwise I might have never seen his hair.
“Date.” I punctuate the word.
“I’ve got to go. Lark has your keys. Stop by the garage tomorrow, and I’ll let you know the damage.” His boots thump downstairs, and a moment later, the door slams.
“You couldn’t be nice, could you?” Lark glares at me from the doorway.
“That was nice!”
“You were teasing him.”
“I enjoyed teasing him.”
Her head tilts to the side as she takes me in. “You like him.”
“I don’t know him.”
“You only tease people you like.”
Huh, I guess I do. “Hungry?”
“Starved, but I would like to shower, and he forgot our bags.”
“Oh no!” I dart down the steps, nearly tripping over my feet and out the front door and onto the lawn where I do, in fact, face-plant. My face slams into the snow, and something hard hits my chin.
I hope no one saw that.
“That was the most ungraceful thing I’ve ever seen a bird do.” I hear him before I see him, his boots crunching over the snow and his knees cracking as he crouches before me.
I push up on my elbows, fling my hair back, and take in Arlo squatting beside me with two suitcases. “Forgot to ask about the suitcases.”
“I’ve got them.”
“I see that.”
“You know…” For the first time since meeting the burly man, mischievousness flares in his gaze. “I’m not sure how this plays out in the movies, but doesn’t the girl fall for the guy after the first date? Assuming our first date was me nearly hitting you with my tow truck.”
“Oh, that is definitely first date material,” I assure him. “There’s no better meet-cute to be had.”
“It is one for the books.” He smirks, and it steals my breath. Those dimples of his pucker through his beard, and his eyes crinkle at the sides. “Come on, Birdie, you’re bleeding.”
When I glance down, I find droplets of blood in the snow. Tomorrow, my body will ache and demand all the painkillers.
I swear I’m the only person who can accomplish this level of klutziness.
Arlo scatters the snow to reveal a stepping-stone, and his chuckle rings through the air like chimes. “Would you look at that?”
Below his fingers sits the engraving of a moose.
Now I’m not one for coincidences, but this is an undeniable pattern that leaves my mouth hanging open in confusion.
“No.” I scatter the last of the snow. “Impossible.”
“Well, there is the story of the moose.” I know he’s teasing me, but I just can’t help the curiosity that burns within me.
“A moose?” I’ve gone and done it now. Kneeling in the cold snow, my jeans soaked through, I’m hanging on his every word, and from the look he’s giving me, he knows it.
“Legend has it that our forefathers built this town—a group of ice harvesters and their trusty moose. One day, a group of them got lost in these very woods, and they couldn’t find their way back after a heavy snowfall.
These men were always good to the moose, you see, and one lone moose led them back to safety.
” His face lights up as he tells his story.
“Now, when anyone gets lost and can’t find their way, mother moose leads them home. ”
I blink at him for a solid moment before I realize he’s telling me a tall tale. “That’s a movie!” I shove at his shoulders, watching as he falls to the ground.
“I’m serious,” he claims between fits of laughter.
“The one with the ice queen!”
“Elsa!” Lark chimes in from the porch.
“It’s based on this town,” Arlo says with such conviction that I grab a snowball and toss it at his face. “You didn’t.” He scowls.
“I did!” I gather the snow for another snowball, only for him to tackle me with the speed of a moose. Laughter bubbles all around us, spilling from my lungs to echo through the trees…until Arlo smothers my face in the snow and hops up before I can retaliate.
“Keep her from hurting herself more.” Arlo points to a smiling Lark, leaving me in the snow, soaked through, to carry up our suitcases.
“Hey!” I shout at him, and he glances over at me. “Aren’t you going to carry these up for me?”
“Naw.” His smile lights up his eyes. “You’re an independent woman, so I think you’ve got this.”
Oh, he’s sneaky. Dusting myself off, I stand and grab the suitcases and trudge through the snow.
“You should do that more often.” Lark grabs her suitcase.
“Do what?”
“Laugh.”