By the time Kit escaped the police station, there was only an hour or so of daylight left, but she still wanted to go to the tower. She was tired and needed to see a friendly face—especially if that face was Wes’s. It had been a long day. Mr. Espina had contacted a lawyer, who’d arrived with custody documents and other contracts for Courtney to sign. In return, she had been released.
It bothered Kit that Courtney wasn’t getting any jail time for what she’d done to Sam—and the others—but Sam had assured her that he didn’t care if she was punished. All he wanted was to stay with Jules and his other siblings, without the threats of having to return to Courtney or Jules going to prison hanging over their heads. Since Courtney had signed legal custody over to Jules, all the kids were ecstatic. They didn’t even want the inheritance left by their father, but they agreed to accept it when the lawyer mentioned how it would drive Courtney crazy to only get a tiny sliver of the fortune their father had possessed.
“Honestly,” she told Justice, who’d spent most of his day happily hanging out with Jules and her siblings, “I’m glad they’re sticking around town. I’d hate to lose my training buddies.” She hoped they wouldn’t hold it against her that she’d unintentionally led Courtney right to them, especially since everything had turned out for the best.
As she neared the turnoff for her street, Kit hesitated, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel and peering at the darkening sky. It would get dark even more quickly, thanks to the gloomy clouds that’d gathered. She hadn’t realized how accustomed she’d become to the sunny weather until it changed.
She passed the turnoff, continuing toward the western pass. Sticking his head between the seats, Justice rested his chin on the center console, his droopy jowls spreading out to either side.
“I know,” she said as if he were judging her. “We’ll get a half hour of work in before it gets dark, and we don’t have a helper, so we probably won’t get much accomplished, but I don’t care. Wes is probably waiting for us. I did tell him we’d come to the tower to train today. The only way to tell him I couldn’t make it would be to call on the radio, and then everyone and their brother would be in our business, and we’d probably piss off another dispatcher.” She knew she could also email him, but she honestly didn’t want to chance that Wes would tell her not to come.
Justice heaved a long sigh.
“Fine.” The only reason she was making the trip to the tower was because she wanted to see Wes again, and it was a little silly to try to convince herself—or Justice, who couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying—otherwise. “Today was tough, and the only thing that got me through was knowing that I’d get to see Wes. We’ll do some basic obedience training, have a Pop Tart, and get home in time for dinner. Sound like a plan?”
Half asleep, Justice didn’t respond.
“Good. That’s what we’ll do, then.” It probably wasn’t normal to discuss her plans with her dog, but that was the nice thing about her new town: the weirder she was, the more she fit in with everyone else.
They’d just gotten over the pass when the snowflakes started to fall. They were big and beautiful, like something out of a Christmas movie, but the closer Kit got to the tower, the thicker the flakes got. As she turned onto the two-track path leading to the tower, the previous tire marks were blurred, filled halfway with new snow.
The wind picked up, and she was grateful that the surrounding trees blocked the worst of it. She wouldn’t want to be on the highway in this, since the visibility had to be just a few feet. In the midst of the trees, the snow swirled around her SUV, the fresh, white covering giving the forest a magical appearance. Despite the sparkling fairyland around her, Kit’s shoulders tightened as she slowly rolled through the falling snow. Considering Wes’s inhospitable neighbors, this was not a good place for her to get her vehicle stuck.
It wasn’t until she pulled into the clearing surrounding the tower that Kit allowed herself to relax, exhaling a long breath. She felt like she’d been holding it since the snow started falling. Now that she was out of the shelter of the trees, the wind hit the side of the SUV hard, making it shudder from the strength of the gusts.
Parking next to the tower, she braced herself and opened her door. Although she thought she’d been mentally prepared, the cold wind still shocked her, blasting through her layers like they were tissue paper. Hurrying to get Justice out of the SUV, she revised her plan. There was no way they were going to do any training in this snowstorm, not without her losing a few toes from the cold.
By the way he huddled at her side, rather than jumping around like a wild thing in the snow like he normally did, Justice agreed with her. He stuck close to her as she hurried for the tower door, silently thanking Wes for his genius when the door swung open as soon as she looked toward the camera.
Stepping inside, Kit almost ran into a broad, flannel-covered chest. “Oh!” she said, looking up at Wes. “I thought you’d be upstairs.”
“I saw you pull up and wanted to open the door before you froze.” He closed the door behind them, and the howling wind was instantly muffled. Justice slipped his head under Wes’s hand and was rewarded with ear strokes. “Heavy rain or snow messes with the facial-recognition. I’m working on fixing that.”
“Thank you.” There was a coatrack next to the door, so she removed her boots and coat, hanging it next to his before following Wes up the stairs. Justice bounded ahead, back to his bouncy self now that they were out of the wind and snow. “I should’ve checked the weather before heading out, but I was in a hurry, worried about running out of daylight to train in.” She gave a huff of laughter. “Guess it doesn’t matter whether it’s light out or not now. There’s no training in this.”
“Did you want to use the tower?” he offered as they reached the top. The large, round room was warm and bright and welcoming, smelling of split pine and woodsmoke, just like Wes.
“I think I’ll give Justice the day off. I’d prefer to stay here until the snow and wind let up, if you don’t mind?” She dreaded making the drive back to town in the middle of the nasty storm. Despite their predicament, though, she wasn’t sorry she’d come. Just seeing this big, bearded, flannel-draped man made the tension of the day ease out of her. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until she’d set eyes on him and everything inside her had suddenly relaxed.
“No.”
She blinked. That was unexpected. “We can’t stay?”
“No.” He let out a huff and stared at the lofted ceiling for a moment. “That isn’t coming out right. No, I don’t mind if you stay. Yes, you can stay. I want you to stay. So please stay.”
Once again, she was reminded how much she loved his mannerisms and the way he always said exactly what he was thinking, and she smiled for what felt like the first time in a long, stressful day. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” There was another long pause as they stared at each other. Justice, finished exploring the space, returned to lean on Wes and did his head-under-the-hand trick again. Wes blinked, as if pulled from his thoughts, and asked, “Would you like something to eat?”
Kit smiled more broadly than the offer probably deserved. “Yes. That would be wonderful.”
* * *
Wes’s thoughts ran in high-speed circles. He’d never felt so nervous—and yet so excited—before in his life. Kit was here, in his tower, and they were alone—except for the dog—and he needed to get her some food before she started wondering what was wrong with him. As he moved toward the cupboard, the dispatcher’s voice came from the radio, announcing that both the east and west passes were about to be closed due to the winter storm. He wasn’t surprised. With this wind, the visibility had to be terrible.
Wes grabbed the s’mores box and held it up in question. When he saw Kit’s frown, he started to return it to the shelf.
“No, that would be perfect. I’m just thinking about the pass being closed. Is this storm supposed to continue all night?”
He froze, the consequences of the closed pass suddenly hitting him. Normally, he left his home so rarely, especially during the winter, that the road conditions didn’t affect him too much, but this time, it was different. Kit couldn’t leave, which meant she would need to stay. With him. Possibly all night. He swallowed hard, his brain temporarily experiencing a whiteout that rivaled the conditions outside. “Uh…”
Looking concerned, Kit walked over to the wall of windows and peered out into the snow-filled dusk. “Last time I was snowed out of Monroe, when I first got to Colorado, it was for almost a week.” Turning, she gave him a tentative smile. “If you’re stuck with me and Justice that long, you’ll probably end up tossing us out in the snow after a few days.”
“No!” he said, and realized that came out too vehemently when she looked startled. The idea of being trapped with Kit for hours—if not days—was sending blood racing through his veins. This would be the true test of how they got along, and he worried that she’d be the one wanting to toss him into the snow, rather than the other way around. He tried to speak again, more calmly this time. “I can’t imagine ever getting tired of you.” When her eyes widened again, he mentally swore. Had that sounded too intense? He felt like he was trying to navigate a minefield while blindfolded. Conversation—especially a conversation with a woman he liked—was not his strong suit.
“Good.” Her surprise seemed to have faded, and she was smiling again, so Wes let out the breath he was holding. “Could I check the weather forecast?” She gestured toward one of his computers.
“Of course.” As he moved toward the closest laptop, he realized that he was still holding the box of Pop Tarts, and he handed it to Kit as he passed.
When she laughed, he hesitated, trying to figure out why, but she waved him on. “I’ve got this. I’m not the best cook in the world, but I can manage to toast a Pop Tart. Did you want one?”
“Yes.” He pulled up the weather site. It loaded slowly, but Wes had expected that. He was glad the satellite internet was working at all, since it tended to go down during storms. When the site finally displayed, his stomach gave a hop of excitement. “The snow will continue until approximately midnight, but there will be high winds through the night.”
She made a face but didn’t appear to be overly upset, which made Wes hopeful that she didn’t mind having to stay the night. “The plows won’t even try to clear the passes until the wind dies down, since the snow would just blow right back over the highway. Guess you’re stuck with us. In hindsight, I should’ve checked the weather forecast before coming out here. Sorry about this.”
“I’m not… Sorry, I mean,” he blurted out.
“You’re sure?” Kit was eyeing him closely, and he felt that warm feeling in his chest again at the way she seemed to really care what he thought and felt. “I know you have to really cherish your privacy to spend the winters out here. I hate to intrude on you like this.” Justice settled on the rug by the woodstove with a loud groan, making Kit laugh. “Obviously, my dog doesn’t care that he’s intruding.”
Wes smiled—he loved the sound of her laughter. “Neither of you is intruding.” He wanted to change the subject, since he was worried that the more she apologized, the greater the risk was of him admitting how extremely glad he was that she was here. “Did you figure out the toaster?”
His topic change worked. “I think so.” She glanced at it, tilting her head as she examined the appliance. “It’s not like any toaster I’ve ever seen before.”
“I modified it.” He joined her in the small kitchen area and checked to see that she’d gotten it working. “Heat-producing appliances typically use the most energy, so I…” He glanced at her, not sure if she would want to hear the technical details. If Leila were here, she’d definitely be telling him she didn’t care. He decided to play it safe and not delve into the process. “I made it more energy-efficient.”
“Huh.” She examined the toaster and then returned her gaze to him. “You’re really smart, aren’t you?”
“In some areas, yes.” At the moment, he would’ve traded a good portion of his technical knowledge for a few more social skills. “Other things are harder for me.”
Kit made a hmm sound. “I think we’re all that way. I like police work and training dogs and mentoring kids, but if I try to do anything more technical on a computer than writing a case report, it tends to go badly.”
“Go badly?” he repeated, carefully extracting one of the pastries from the toaster and juggling it from hand to hand until it was cool enough to pass to Kit. It wasn’t until she accepted it with a wry look that he realized she might not want to eat something he’d just handled extensively. “Sorry. Did you want that one instead? I won’t touch it.”
Waving off the offer, she took a bite. “At my last job, the joke around the station was that I had hands of death when it came to computers. I’ll be innocently trying to set up a spreadsheet or answer an email, and bam”—she held the Pop Tart in her mouth so she could clap her hands together once before rescuing the pastry—“blue screen of death. I seriously should come with a warning label.”
After glancing around at the array of computers and electronics, Wes picked up the second Pop Tart. “Good to know.”
She laughed. “I’m also horrible at art or decorating or anything creative.”
He loved hearing about things she was bad at. If she’d been as perfect as she’d first appeared, there’d be no way she’d ever be interested in him. If she had foibles and flaws, though, then there was a chance she could see past all his idiosyncrasies to what was inside. Except for his parents and his sister, no one had ever bothered to look that deeply, but the way Kit listened to him so closely and watched him for his reactions made him hope that she would try.
“Sooo…” she said, drawing his attention away from his thoughts.
He waited, not sure what that drawn-out word meant.
“Since I’ve revealed a few of mine, what are your weaknesses?” she asked.
Surprised, he stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “You can’t tell?”
When she rolled her eyes at him in response, he smiled. The gesture seemed like she was teasing, rather than mocking him. “Of course I can’t. You are a mad-scientist-level genius—minus the ‘mad’ part—and sweet and modest and brave enough to get between me and five loaded shotguns. I’m not seeing any negatives, and it’s making me a little self-conscious here.”
That made him blink as his brain tried to wrap itself around her words. She’d dumped out so much in front of him that it made his head spin with delighted disbelief. “I make you self-conscious?”
She picked crumbs off her hoodie, peeking up at him through her lashes in a way that he found almost unbearably appealing. “A little, yeah. You’re just so smart. It’s a little intimidating.”
“I’m intimidating?” He huffed a laugh, having a hard time believing the picture she was painting.
“Not obnoxiously so.” She hurried to amend her words. “You’re too nice to rub your brains in my face.” After a short pause, they both laughed. “Sorry, that was kind of a graphic way of putting it, wasn’t it? I just meant that you’re not pretentious or snobby, even though you’re smart enough that you could get away with that. It makes you really easy to like.”
His insides were so warm that he felt like he was positively glowing. Not only had she just admitted that she found him smart, and nice, and brave, but she’d also said flat-out that she liked him. Even if she left the tower and never returned, the memory of her words would be enough to keep him company for years on the long, lonely winter nights. It was such a huge deal to him, what she’d just said, that he couldn’t think of any worthy response. Instead, he took the chicken’s way out and changed the subject…again.
“Are you thirsty?”
She took the switch in topics with easy grace, and it made him like her even more. “Oh God, yes. Ever since I moved here, I feel like I can’t drink enough water.”
“Are you having any trouble adjusting to the altitude?” Grabbing a spill-proof travel mug, he filled it with water from the tap. After screwing on the lid, he handed it to her.
“Not really. I’ve found I can’t run as fast as I could at sea level, but that just motivates me to work out more.” She examined the mug with a wry expression. “Leave it to you to have a glass that astronauts probably use in space.” Pushing the button on the side to open the lid, she took a long drink.
He ignored her space-cup comment, figuring that she didn’t want to hear facts about space travel. It was getting easier to know when to share and when to be quiet, he realized, and he gave Leila a silent thank-you for always being so blunt with him. “Once your body adjusts to it, you’ll be able to visit your former home state and run even faster there without getting breathless.”
“That’s something to look forward to.” The radio chirped, and the dispatcher assigned a traffic-accident call east of town to a county deputy. When their voices went silent, Kit asked, “Mind if I use your radio to let the dispatcher know I’m not reachable by cell phone?”
He gave her a go-ahead gesture, and she moved over to the radio, careful not to step on a snoring Justice’s tail. She quickly gave the dispatcher the information. Before she could even take a step away, an amused voice came through the radio.
“Whatcha doing at the tower with Wes?”
He recognized the voice as Hugh Murdoch’s and eyed Kit to see how she was taking the teasing. She just grimaced in a good-natured way as she picked up the mic again.
“None of your business.”
A long, exaggerated sigh came over the radio, and Kit met Wes’s gaze. Her long-suffering but amused expression made him smile, and he loved how it felt as if they were a team, the two of them against the rest of the town. If he had Kit on his side, the gossip and the stares of the rest of the area residents didn’t matter. With just that small gesture, Kit had turned things around so that it felt like they were the normal ones. For the first time in his life, Wes felt like he was on the inside of something, and he felt a huge surge of affection for Kit for making that happen.
“Greenie,” Hugh continued on the radio. “Spill. It’s been a rough day…and week. And year. I need a distraction, and my soap is in hiatus right now. Help a partner out.”
The dispatcher spoke before Kit could. “Mind taking this gossip session off channel one in case there’s a real emergency?”
Kit snorted before raising the mic. “Excellent idea. Good night, Hugh. Stay safe.” She replaced the mic and walked away from the radio. “I don’t know how Grace—Hugh’s girlfriend—doesn’t strangle him on a regular basis. I consider myself pretty even-keeled, but he tests my patience sometimes.”
Wes tried to imagine riding around in a vehicle with someone for eight or more hours a day and shuddered. For him, that would be hell—unless he was able to partner up with Kit. She’d be the only one he’d be able to tolerate being in such close quarters with for an extended length of time. Most people made him feel tense, but Kit had the opposite effect. She actually relaxed him, making him feel calm and almost unbearably excited at the same time. As she sat on the couch, curling her socked feet underneath her, he couldn’t look away. There was a sinuous grace to her movements that fascinated him, making him feel as if he could happily watch her do simple daily tasks for hours on end.
Her gaze turned curious, making him realize that he’d been staring. As much as he wanted to keep watching her, he knew it would make him come off as strange.
As he sat on the opposite end of the couch, he hunted for a socially acceptable question and finally came up with “Do you like working there?”
Tilting her head, she glanced down as if considering the question. “Right now, it’s challenging,” she finally answered, sounding as if she was picking each word carefully. “I think it’ll get better once I get to know the people and the area, and my partners learn that I can be trusted.” She gave him a quick glance, and he wondered if she’d realized too late how much that last bit revealed. “It’s been a hard few months for Monroe and its police force, so it’s natural for everyone to be…cautious.”
Even though he was isolated geographically, he couldn’t have missed the news about the lieutenant who’d been arrested for working with the people who’d attacked Monroe. Kit was right about it being a hard few months for everyone in the area, especially law enforcement, but he still felt a strong need to defend her. Why couldn’t everyone see how trustworthy and good Kit was? Wes had known immediately, and everything she’d said or done after that had just confirmed her integrity. “Are they making it hard to do your job?” he asked.
She smiled at him, a surprised yet open grin that made him blink from the brilliance of it.
“What?” he asked, still a little stunned.
“You live up here by yourself, rarely interacting with other people,” she said.
“Yes.” He spoke slowly. Although her words were accurate, he wasn’t sure what she was getting at.
“I didn’t expect you to be one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever met.”
“Intuitive?” He said the word slowly, feeling it out. No one had called him that—ever. “I don’t feel like I’m intuitive.”
“You are.” The way she sounded so certain made him start to believe it was true. “How else could you have managed to get your crazy-ass neighbors to trust you? And whenever we talk, you always know exactly how to sort out my scattered thoughts.”
He considered that for a long moment, feeling that unfamiliar warmth in his chest spread even more. Intuitive. It wasn’t a word he’d ever attributed to himself, but he really liked that she saw that in him. “I’m not sure if you’re right,” he said finally, “but I hope you are.”
The silence that fell after that wasn’t awkward, although it wasn’t exactly comfortable either. The sparking tension between them reminded Wes of the air right before a thunderstorm rolled in, when everything was still and charged and thick with anticipation of what was about to come.
Breaking their eye contact, Kit placed her water bottle on the rough-hewn wood of the coffee table. Wes sat back, surprised to find that he’d been leaning toward her. With the tense moment interrupted, he felt like he should say something, and he glanced around for inspiration. He was still hunting for words when she spoke.
“Do you have any cards?” she asked, making him frown.
“Playing cards?” When she nodded, he glanced around again, as if he could pull them out of thin air. “No.”
“Board games?”
“No.” He was the worst host in the world. It had never occurred to him to have any cards or games, since he simply played on his tablet or his computer when he had the urge. That reminded him that the tower wasn’t completely out of entertainment options. “Want to play Call of Duty?”
“Oh yeah.” She beamed at him. “Although I need to warn you that I’m really, really good at it.”
“Yeah? Controllers.” The robot cat retrieved them and zipped across the room to offer them to Wes. “Then I need to warn you that I’m probably better. Screen down.” A large monitor lowered from the ceiling to hang six feet in front of the couch.
“Enjoy those delusions of superiority while you can,” Kit warned, teasingly elbowing him in the side. His skin lit up at the touch. “I’m going to enjoy destroying you.”
He stared at her until she glanced over and made a face.
“Too far?” she asked.
“No.” His voice sounded rough, and he cleared his throat and focused on handing her a controller. “No, that was just right.”