Storm Warning. Michele Hauf

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СКАЧАТЬ birch trees and out of nowhere a moose charged through the deep snow. It was beautiful. But I’m cautious to check for big critters now when I venture out.”

      “You should stick to the trails. Safer.”

      “Safe is good, hmm?”

      Jason almost responded with an immediate yes, but he sensed by her tone that she was angling for bigger fish. Were those thick lashes as soft as they looked? And did she prefer not so safe? Now that was his kind of woman.

      “Depends,” he said. “There’s safe and then there’s, hmm...wild?”

      “Wild is not a word I’d ever place to anything in this town.”

      If that wasn’t some wanting, repressed sexual desire in her sigh, Jason couldn’t guess otherwise. She had been in Frost Falls a few weeks. Why had he never noticed her before? And could he hope Alex hadn’t already hooked up with her?

      “You, uh, like wild?” he asked.

      “I do.” She finished off one triangle of the sandwich, but from his side view Jason noticed her smile did not fade.

      Oh, he liked the wild, too. In so many ways.

      The waitress set his bill down before him. He did not put it on the station’s expense account. He couldn’t see asking the town to pay for his meals. And now with the closure notice hanging over his head, he wanted to be as frugal as possible with the city budget. Much as he didn’t like sharing the investigation with the BCA—yes, Ryan Bay, the looker, had arrived in town—it was a good thing, considering they had the resources and the finances to serve the investigation properly. As soon as the final autopsy report arrived, Jason intended to meet with Bay at the station house and go over the evidence.

      Reaching for her backpack, Yvette shuffled it on over her arms. Ready to head out so quickly? She still had half a sandwich on the plate. He couldn’t let her leave. Not until he’d learned more, like where she was staying, and did she have a significant other? And did her hair actually gleam when it spilled across her shoulders?

      Briefly, Jason frowned as memories of his early morning stop resurfaced. The deceased had long black hair and a beautiful face.

      At that moment, his cell phone buzzed with a text. Elaine had ID’d the victim as Yvette Pearson.

      “Yvette,” he muttered and wrinkled a brow. That was a weird coincidence.

      “Yes?”

      He looked up and was met with a wondering blue gaze. He’d once fallen for a pair of blue eyes and a foreign accent—and life had changed drastically for him because of that distraction.

      “You said my name?” she prompted.

      “Huh? Oh. No. I mean, yes. Not you. It’s a text.” He quickly typed, Thanks for the info. Forward the final report to me and Ryan Bay. He tucked away the phone and said to the very much alive Yvette, “It’s a case. Not you. Sorry. Police business.”

      She nodded. “Yvette is a common French name.”

      “You betcha. Lot of French Canadians living up in these parts.”

      “These parts.” With a sigh, she glanced out the front window.

      Jason noticed she eyed the black SUV parked across the street. The one that hailed from Duluth.

      “Friend of yours?” he asked, with a nod out the window.

      “You mean the owner of that SUV?” She shook her head. “Despite my sparkling personality, and a desperate desire for good conversation, I don’t have any friends in this town. Other than Colette at the market. She’s the only French-speaking person I’ve run into.”

      “You speak French? I was wondering about your accent.”

      “I’m from Lyon.”

      Lyon, eh? That was a major city in France.

      “So, what is there to do in this town that is more interesting than Friday night at the Laundromat slash grocery store?” Yvette asked.

      “Let’s see...” Jason rubbed his jaw. “A guy could nosh on some of the amazing desserts they have here at The Moose. I have to admit, I’m a big fan of their pie. You want a slice before you rush off?”

      “Much as I would love to, I’ll have to pass. Wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was.” She pushed the plate forward to indicate she was finished. “But I won’t rule out pie in my future,” she said with a teasing tone. “What else you got?”

      “Well, there is Netflix and chill,” Jason suggested slyly.

      “I don’t understand.”

      “It means...uh...” A blush heated Jason’s cheeks. Since when had his flirtation skills become so damned rusty? And awkward. Mercy, he was out of practice.

      “More coffee, Jason?” the waitress asked.

      Saved by the steamy brew. “No, thanks, I should get going. Marjorie is waiting for me back at the office to sign off on some...paperwork.”

      The last thing he wanted to do was let the cat out of the bag that a body had been found so close to town. On the other hand, he expected when Susan Olson next went on shift at the back of the diner, it wouldn’t take long for word to spread.

      He pulled out a twenty and laid it on the counter. “That should cover both our bills.”

      Yvette zipped up her jacket. “Thank you, Chief Cash. I’m going to look up Netflix and chill when I get home.”

      “You do that,” he said. And when she learned it meant watching Netflix together, then making out? “I’m down the street at the redbrick building if you ever need me. Used to be a bustling station house, but now it’s just me and dispatch.”

      “Keeping an eye on the Peanut Gang.”

      “You betcha.”

      He walked her to the restaurant door, and she pointed across the street where a snowmobile was parked before Olson’s Oasis. It was an older model, similar to the one he’d once torn through ditches on when he was a teenager.

      “That’s me,” she said.

      “How far out do you live?” he asked.

      “I’m renting. Here for a short stay. It’s a cabin about five miles east. Lots of birch trees. Very secluded.”

      “Everything around here is secluded. You step out of town, you’re in no-man’s land. That’s what I love about this place. And lots of powder.”

      “Powder?”

      “Snow. When I’m not working, I spend my time on the cat, zooming through the powder. Er, cat is what some locals call the snowmobile. At least, those of us with an inclination to Arctic Cat sleds and racing.”

      “Ah, a thrill seeker?”

      “You СКАЧАТЬ