“I knew there was a railroad,” he corrected.
I narrowed my eyes. “How’d you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Iknow because Durango is a famous Wild West town, founded in 1881, that wisely preserved its history for weirdos like me.”
“You’re not a weirdo.”
For some reason that assurance in Calvin’s tone made me blush. “Er—well, that’s why I know about the railroad. How doyouknow?”
Calvin didn’t answer until he’d rounded a corner and came on to an absolutely pristine street of historical buildings and quaint boutique shops. He parked on the side of the road outside a grand four-story brick building, turned the ignition off, then pointed out my window. “I know because I booked us a ride on the railroad through the Strater.”
I gave Calvin a quick glance, but my hand was already on the door handle, and then I was opening it and scrambling to my feet. I stared up at the famous hotel and once social hotspot of Colorado, almost in disbelief, but nope—there was the sign over the front door.
THE STRATER HOTEL
Calvin shut the driver’s door and came around the front of the car. “Seb?”
“We’re staying here for the week?”
“Yup.” Calvin put a hand on my back and rubbed small circles. “You okay?”
“Because… it’s closer to tourist sites?”
Calvin nodded slowly. “That, sure. And because I thought you might enjoy a Victorian hotel more than the Holiday Inn. What’s wrong?”
Shaking my head, I hastily said, “No, nothing.” I put a hand on the back of Calvin’s neck and pulled him down into a kiss. “Thank you. This is amazing.”
“Worth the drive?”
I laughed quietly. “I take back any and all complaints.” I kissed Calvin again.
“Do youmind?”
We both turned toward the steps at the same time. A woman, closer to Calvin’s age, stood just outside the front doors, one hand on a toddler trying to escape her grasp, the other on her hip, striking a true Mom Pose. Behind her, a completely mortified teenage boy was holding his phone and gaping at his mom through a curtain of long, stringy hair. A third kid was a few feet away, arms wrapped around a parking meter, swinging back and forth, completely oblivious to Mommy Dearest’s conniption.
“Do youmind?” Mommy repeated, pressing on that final word even more than the first time.
Now, I know I’m the last person who should form opinions based on another’s sense of fashion, but the pleated capris, tucked-in blouse buttoned to her throat, and carefully placed pearl necklace under the collar—honey was fresh out of her white picket fence suburbia.
“Ma’am?” Calvin asked politely.
“There are children here,” she hissed.
“Mom,” the teen tried.
“Hush, Jeremy!” She wrangled her toddler again, and the kid started crying. “You’ve made Aaron cry,” Mommy said accusingly, very much at us and not Jeremy.
I kept my hand wrapped around Calvin and said, “I think he’s crying because he’s got a load in his drawers and a face sticky with snot.”
“If I wanted to see—” She struggled a beat before spitting out, like the words tasted bad, “—gay sex, I’d rent that on pay-per-view.”
“And if I wanted to see kids licking parking meters,” I said calmly, “I’d go to the zoo.”
Mommy’s expression twisted like a corkscrew. She looked to her right, then left, and saw the middle child was, indeed, now licking the meter she’d been swinging from. “Mandy! You don’t know where that’s been!” She dragged the toddler behind her, grabbed Mandy with her other hand, and hoofed it down the sidewalk. “Jeremy!” She snapped over her shoulder.
Jeremy was smirking as he reluctantly followed at a distance.
