Chapter 22

“Oh!” Lou paused in the middle of pouring steamed milk into a cup, twisting her head to look at Callum. Even though her stalker was no longer a threat—and was no longer, full stop—Callum still kept the habit of coming into The Coffee Spot for the last hour or so of her shift. Lou thought he might be addicted to the cranberry white chocolate scones. “The insurance agent called earlier this afternoon.”

He flicked a look at the couple impatiently waiting at the counter. Although she wrinkled her nose at him, Lou finished their drinks and rang them up before continuing.

“They’re basically giving me enough to erect that pup tent you were about to stick me and Chad into for the training week.”

“I wasn’t going to…” He shook his head, cutting off his defensive objection. Lou grinned. She always counted it as a win when she was able to send Callum on a verbal detour. “Not enough to rebuild your cabin then?”

The couple lingered, sipping their beverages. Apparently, Lou and Callum’s conversation was interesting enough to delay their trek back to civilization.

“A closet, maybe.” She tipped her head, thinking. “I could build one of those tiny homes. Actually, I don’t think I could afford that. Maybe a teeny-tiny home, if they make them.”

“They do. It’s called a tent.”

“That’s what I thought.” Frowning, she warmed up the scone she’d saved for Callum. “I could get a pop-up camper to pull behind my truck. When I get a truck, of course. That way, I could move my house every few days and experience different views.”

“You’re not living in a camper.” He bit into the scone and chewed angrily.

“Excuse me.” The female half of the eavesdropping couple took a step closer to the counter. “Are there any more of those scones?”

Lou pasted a regretful smile on her face. “Sorry, no. This was the last one.”

“I didn’t see it in the display.” The woman scowled. “I specifically asked if you had any scones, and you said you were out.”

“I had to hold this one back. It was defective.”

“Defective?” Her eyes darted between Lou’s expression of fake sympathy and the small bite of scone Callum hadn’t eaten yet. “It looked fine.”

“I licked it.” Lou heard Callum choke on the last piece of scone, but she couldn’t look at him or she would start laughing. If his airway was blocked, he was going to have to give himself the Heimlich.

The woman’s suspicious expression didn’t ease. “Why did you let him eat it then?”

“Oh, his tongue is in my mouth all the time,” Lou said sweetly, and Callum’s coughing increased. “I didn’t think he’d mind my germs.”

With a sound of frustration, the woman stormed out of the shop, followed closely by the male half of the couple. The bells rang merrily as the door closed behind them, as if celebrating their absence.

“Sparks,” Callum rasped once his coughing died down. “You’re going to kill me.”

“But what a way to go.”

“True.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her closer and leaned across the counter. “Now give me some of those germs.”

Her burst of laughter was interrupted as his mouth met hers. The kiss was short but intense, and she was dreamy-eyed and breathing hard by the time it ended.

“Stop talking about living in a camper,” he ordered, although his crooked smile softened the harshness of his command. “You’re staying with me at my house, and that’s final.”

She studied him, trying to throw off the brain-numbing aftereffects of his kiss and think logically. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looked a little startled. “That was, well, easier than I expected.”

“There are conditions.”

“Ah.” Sitting back, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Shoot.”

“I want to contribute. Financially.”

He grunted. Lou was beginning to be able to translate his nonverbal sounds. That grunt was not agreement. She narrowed her eyes. “Nonnegotiable. You know, my neighbor has this nice little pop-up camper parked by his woodpile. I bet he’d let me buy that baby for a song. It’s only, what, fifty years old or so, and once I got the packrats to move out—or at least tamed them a little—it’d be a cozy little nest for me.”

“Fine. Some financial contribution.”

The emphasis on “some” concerned her, but she accepted the concession. “I’ll need complete control of the whiteboard until we solve the Willard situation.”

His grin was back. “Agreed.”

Tapping her chin in thought, she gave a nod. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“For now.”

He still looked wary. “I’d never try to take away your independence. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” she said. “In the hospital, I had a lot of time to think, and I realized that loving you doesn’t make me weaker. To save you, I dove into a frozen reservoir, killed a guy, and almost died.” He flinched, and she gave him an apologetic grimace. “Loving you actually made me into kind of a badass.”

He extended his hand, as if to shake to cement their deal. When she put her hand in his, he pulled her toward him instead. This time, the kiss was even longer and more thorough. It didn’t end until someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

Pulling back, Lou put on her customer-service smile as she turned to look at the throat-clearer with eyes that didn’t want to focus. “Sorry about that. What can I get… Oh, Ian. Hey.”

He gave a short nod. His expression was grim, even more so than it had been at the bar in Liverton. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Callum stiffen, as if bracing himself for trouble.

“Lou. Callum.” Ian practically growled the terse greeting. “We’ve got a problem.”