Page 22 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

“That’s a gross exaggeration.”

“No.”

“There were, like, six kids.”

“You had sign-up sheets.”

Sarah groaned. “I was twelve.”

“And color-coded teams.” His face was way too handsome when he smiled.

Why was she even noticing that?

“Those weren’t teams.”

“Sarah.” His eyebrows rose.

“Fine.” She kicked at a patch of frozen gravel. “They were color-coded teams.”

She pulled her collar up another inch against the wind and Hudson’s widening grin.

“Right.” She started walking again, back toward the truck, because standing in a parking lot being looked at like that by Hudson Kane was not a sustainable long-term strategy for getting through this day, or this entire situation generally.

Hudson fell into step beside her and matched her stride.

They weren’t touching.

The space between them felt crowded anyway.

9

Hudson fell into step beside Sarah as they crossed the lot.

She glanced sideways. “You know, I can make it to my truck without a federal escort.”

“I know.”

She looked at him for a second, as if deciding whether to argue, then kept walking with a shake of her head.

They crossed the remainder of the lot in companionable silence, the afternoon already fading toward the blue-gray light that came before dusk.

Sarah reached her truck first.

“See?” She spread her hands. “Survived.”

“Congratulations.” Hudson turned toward his rental.

Powder compressed beneath his boots.

A stuffed whale named Blubbs surfaced unexpectedly, followed by Sarah solemnly shaking its flipper like she was meeting a visiting dignitary. He hadn’t seen that version of her coming. For reasons he had no intention of examining, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Behind him, Sarah’s radio sputtered into life.

“Got your Jake Mercer.” Walter’s voice crackled through the radio. “Leased a place on Birch Hollow Road eight months back. You want it or should I keep it for myself?”

Hudson spun around, meeting Sarah’s gaze.

“Send it.” Sarah ended the call before Walter could improve on the information.