“Not in a long time.”
“What’s a long time?”
“Since I was a kid.”
“How old are you?”
She arched a brow, the little rose gold hoop winking in the sun. “How old do I look?”
“I don’t know. Twenties?” I freaking hoped she wasn’t too young. It was bad enough that I’d kissed her for fuck’s sake.
“How old are you?”
I tightened my hold on the steering wheel. “Thirty-five,” I muttered.
“Relax, Dutch. I’m twenty-eight. Of sound mind and able to make decisions for myself.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were doing the mental math, admit it.” She reached over and patted my arm. “I’m glad you’re not one of those guys who only dates younger women.”
“I don’t want to date anyone.”
“Good to know. Don’t worry, I won’t corrupt you. I got the message the first time.”
I should have been relieved and yet that statement only pissed me off.
The rest of the ride was in silence. I parked at the edge of the lot in the shade for Mouse. It was a cool day, but the sun warmed the truck.
She handed me the Mustang before hopping out. She closed the door and gave Mouse a good rub down. “You stay here and we’ll bring you back a treat.”
Mouse’s tail wagged as he melted down into the seat, his head resting on the open window.
I got out after her, tucking the car in the pocket of the door before grabbing my bags.
“Hey, Phoebe.” A blond woman with a high ponytail glanced at me then back to her. “Who’s your friend?”
“Molly Sutton, meet...” Phoebe paused, meeting my gaze. “Dutch.”
I nodded politely, grateful she didn’t give her my full name. “Hi.”
“He moved in next door during our last snow storm.”
“Oh, welcome to Haven.” She held her hand out. A flicker of something in her eyes. Shit, did she recognize me? “Rude awakening to our fair town. It’s been a snowier than usual season.”
I shook it. “I’m learning that.”
“Dutch is from California. Rude awakening is an understatement.”
“Oh, I guess it would be. Well, you better get in there. We’re getting another doozy of a storm if Edie’s post is true. And it usually is.” Molly waved at both of us and pushed her cart full of bags toward her car.
“Edie’s what?”
Phoebe laughed. “We have a town Facebook group. Edie is our town librarian and eerily accurate when it comes to sussingout the totals for our snowstorms.” She fished out her phone and zigzagged through the parking lot as she flicked through screens.
I course corrected her by grabbing her hood.
“Thanks,” she said absently. “Oh, guess I’m glad I came out with you. We’re supposed to get eighteen inches.”
