Talk Me Down

“Well, I don’t know what you were doing with your youth, Ben, but I never saw the inside of the police station. I was a good girl.”

Jesus. He successfully fought off the blush this time, which was a great relief. She seemed to take joy in embarrassing him.

Ben opened his mouth to explain that he was leaving and couldn’t give her a tour, but then he noticed that her nose was beginning to resemble the color of her hat. She clasped her pink-mittened hands together and blew against them.

“All right. Come in.” He waved her up and followed behind her. Yes, her ass looked perfectly perky in tight jeans. Round and succulent. Two little globes of—

“Off-limits,” he whispered. When Molly looked back at him, he just shook his head.

HE WAS FROWNING AT HER, clearly not having a good time, and Molly felt a twinge of guilt.

She’d forgotten about his issues with his father when she’d walked over here to laugh about the column. It had all happened when she was twelve and not quite tuned into the scandal of Mr. Lawson having an affair with a teenager. Mr. Lawson, the high school principal, having an affair with a teenage student. What a nightmare.

Ben gestured toward the oversize front desk. “During the summer, the station’s always manned. But in the winter, it’s just us locals. Everyone knows where to find Brenda at lunchtime.”

“Do you guys only work half-time during winter?”

“No, we have an Aspen officer who works here during the summer. It works out perfectly because they need her for their busy season, then when the pass opens in spring, she commutes here for a few months, and the rest of us get to work full-time during the slow season.”

“Quinn said there’s a lot more traffic through here than there used to be.”

Ben nodded. “The mountain biking has really taken off. The rafting companies expanded to include biking and bought more buses. They take the riders and their bikes up to the top of the trail, then meet them back at the bottom to do it again. Helluva way to break your neck, if you ask me.”

“Professor Logic as always.”

“God, no one’s called me that since your parents moved away.” He led the way back, giving cursory explanations. “My office.” He waved into a small, plain room with a neat desk. “The other offices.” A larger room with three desks crammed into it. “Holding cell.”

“Whoa, this is your jail?” She walked up to the big metal door to look through the thick glass window. Nothing very interesting, just a toilet and sink and cot.

“It’s just a holding cell. Anyone we place under arrest gets put over in the county lockup.”

“So who’s this for?”

“Minor violators.”

She glanced back to find him watching her closely.

He raised an eyebrow. “Girls who block snowy streets with their tiny, useless, stranded cars even after they’ve been warned by the police.”

“Ha!” She turned and stepped closer to him, happy when he backed up into the wall. “I’ll be nimble as a little bunny. You’ll see.”

“I do have experience in this kind of—”

“Oh, I know you have experience, Chief. But I’m no beginner, either.”

Clearing his throat, Ben pushed off the wall and headed back toward the front. Unfortunately his coat hid most of his butt, but she could still appreciate the movement of his hard thighs and the tempting sight of the nape of his neck beneath his hat. “Thanks for wearing the cowboy hat for me, Ben.”

The neck turned pink. “It’s part of my uniform, Molly,” he growled.

She was almost positive he was more than a little interested in her, but she suddenly had the fear that his blushes were more the “just leave me alone” kind than the “you’re hot, don’t tease me” variation. He’d always been quiet and almost shy, until he loosened up and got funny. So was this shyness or interest? How to find out?

Well, she’d always believed in the shortest route. “My brother says you’re single.”

Ben stopped so quickly that Molly reached out to stop herself from bumping into him. Her hand connected with a rock-solid back. When he turned, she felt muscles shifting even under the heavy coat, and then, instead of her hand resting on his back, her arm was actually curled around his waist, her hip touching his. Even Molly was startled at how she’d just made herself at home.

He raised a meaningful eyebrow at her arm until she removed it.

“Accident. Sorry. I swear I’m not a hussy.” The word hussy made her laugh until she snorted, and Ben’s eyes crinkled a little in amusement.

“Look, Molly. I think you’re cute. And I am single. But it’s a small town, you know? Too complicated.”

“Too complicated? Really? Jeez, you’re a real live wire, Professor.”

“Come on. You know how it is.”

“I was only trying to finagle a date. A date. I promise not to chain you to the basement stairs.”

“I don’t date women in Tumble Creek.”

“Seriously?” Yes, he was probably being serious. He’d always been too logical for his own good. “Come on, Ben. What do you do, fly north when the days get longer? Do you have a set migration route or do you have a different set of stops each year?”

“I…It’s complicated.”

“Huh. I’ll say.” She brushed past him, making sure to inhale his scent when she got close. Mmm. Cold air and forests. Nothing complicated about that. He reached past to open the door and his chest brushed her back. Nice. She wasn’t giving up that easy.

Grinning, she walked down the uneven steps and waited for him at the bottom. “It’s not complicated,” she finally said. “I promise you I’m a simple girl.”

He didn’t look as if he believed her. It probably didn’t help that a man across the street started shouting her name. Please don’t let it be one of Cameron’s boys, she prayed as she turned toward the sound of a car door slamming.

“Molly Jennings, is that you? I was just on my way to your house.” Mr. Randolph was heading for his trunk.

“Hi there, Mr. Randolph.”

He popped the trunk, then reappeared with a big vase of roses. “These are for you.”

“Oh, good God,” she groaned, though she did manage to paste a smile on her face.

The flowers bounced jauntily in the man’s arms as he jogged across the street. “Two dozen roses. This young man must think real highly of you.” Mr. Randolph shifted the flowers to one hand, fumbling for the note. “Was it Devlin or Evan?” He patted around for his reading glasses.

“Devon,” Molly snapped, reaching for the damn flowers. She caught the smirk on Ben’s mouth and sent him a glare.

“Simple, huh?” he muttered. “Just another Denver guy, Molly?”

“Yes. He’s a friend. From Denver.”

Mr. Randolph exploded with laughter, totally overdoing it in Molly’s opinion. “A friend! Ha! Those are long stems. Forty dollars a dozen. What’ve you been up to down in Denver, Ms. Jennings?”

“Nothing.”