Talk Me Down. Victoria Dahl
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want them driving home in a whiteout.
With a reluctant smile, Ben thought of the costume party he’d been to when he was sixteen, the last one they’d managed to throw in one of the old mines. Damn, that had been a good one, complete with strip poker and smuggled tequila. And he was darn glad it’d been the last. The idea of a party in an abandoned silver mine had been exciting as hell as a kid, but it scared the shit out of him now.
Ben made a mental note to go check the locks on all the mine gates sometime in the next four days. A drunk kid falling down a mine shaft would haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Chief, I’m heading out to lunch,” Brenda interrupted.
“I’ll walk you out. It’s time for my patrol.” He grabbed his hat and, with a glance out his small window, reached for his quilted uniform coat as well. Snow or not, a cold front had moved in with a vengeance. “You haven’t heard anything about the old mines, have you? I thought I’d better check the gates before Halloween. Remember that last bash when we were kids?”
Brenda’s face blossomed into a rare smile that made her pale blue eyes sparkle. “Well, I don’t know what you remember, but my night ended when Jess Germaine threw up all over my new boots.”
“That’s right. I had to take both of you home, then go wash out my dad’s truck.”
“You always were a gentleman.”
Ben opened the door and gestured her through with a wink. Brenda was laughing as she passed him, but when he tried to follow he walked right into her back.
“Sorry. Is something—”
“Hi!” Molly said to both of them from the bottom of the steps.
Ben nudged Brenda to get her to move out of the doorway and down the three steps to the sidewalk. Molly grinned up at them, a pink, fuzzy hat pulled low over her ears. Her wool coat was feminine and way too white to be practical, but at least it was warm.
“Hey, lovah,” she said to Ben. “I hear we’re a hot item. You move fast for a big man.”
He stumbled on the last step—the cement must have buckled this summer—and had to lock his knees to keep from falling.
“That’s not funny,” Brenda said. “Chief Lawson hates gossip.”
“Oh, I’m—Oh.” Molly grimaced. “I totally forgot about that. Sorry.”
Ben shook his head. “No big deal. Brenda, I’ll see you when I get back.”
Brenda hurried off, glancing back to scowl in Molly’s direction more than once.
Molly watched her go. “Brenda? Oh my God, is that Brenda White? She looks just like her…um, never mind. Wasn’t she in your class?”
“Yes.” Ben scanned the block, looking for Miles’s old pickup.
“Ben, I’m sorry. I forgot about that thing with your dad. I didn’t mean to get you into Miles’s column.”
“Not your fault.” Great, now she was feeling sorry for him. “It’s really no big deal. That was a long time ago.”
Her face brightened, eyes sparkling once more, and Ben was shocked again at how different she was. The same, almost, but more. No longer hesitant or self-conscious, she practically oozed assurance, as if the constant flow of people in the city had burnished her to a lovely glow.
She’d braided her hair into two little pigtails that followed the line of her long neck. She looked soft there…really soft.
“Sooo…” she said. “I was just coming over to tease you about the paper, but now I want to see the station.” She looked behind him toward the double doors.
“It looks the same as it did ten years ago.”
“Well, I don’t know what you were doing with your youth, Ben, but I never saw the inside of the police station. I was a good girl.”
Jesus. He successfully fought off the blush this time, which was a great relief. She seemed to take joy in embarrassing him.
Ben opened his mouth to explain that he was leaving and couldn’t give her a tour, but then he noticed that her nose was beginning to resemble the color of her hat. She clasped her pink-mittened hands together and blew against them.
“All right. Come in.” He waved her up and followed behind her. Yes, her ass looked perfectly perky in tight jeans. Round and succulent. Two little globes of—
“Off-limits,” he whispered. When Molly looked back at him, he just shook his head.
HE WAS FROWNING AT HER, clearly not having a good time, and Molly felt a twinge of guilt.
She’d forgotten about his issues with his father when she’d walked over here to laugh about the column. It had all happened when she was twelve and not quite tuned into the scandal of Mr. Lawson having an affair with a teenager. Mr. Lawson, the high school principal, having an affair with a teenage student. What a nightmare.
Ben gestured toward the oversize front desk. “During the summer, the station’s always manned. But in the winter, it’s just us locals. Everyone knows where to find Brenda at lunchtime.”
“Do you guys only work half-time during winter?”
“No, we have an Aspen officer who works here during the summer. It works out perfectly because they need her for their busy season, then when the pass opens in spring, she commutes here for a few months, and the rest of us get to work full-time during the slow season.”
“Quinn said there’s a lot more traffic through here than there used to be.”
Ben nodded. “The mountain biking has really taken off. The rafting companies expanded to include biking and bought more buses. They take the riders and their bikes up to the top of the trail, then meet them back at the bottom to do it again. Helluva way to break your neck, if you ask me.”
“Professor Logic as always.”
“God, no one’s called me that since your parents moved away.” He led the way back, giving cursory explanations. “My office.” He waved into a small, plain room with a neat desk. “The other offices.” A larger room with three desks crammed into it. “Holding cell.”
“Whoa, this is your jail?” She walked up to the big metal door to look through the thick glass window. Nothing very interesting, just a toilet and sink and cot.
“It’s just a holding cell. Anyone we place under arrest gets put over in the county lockup.”
“So who’s this for?”
“Minor violators.”
She glanced back to find him watching her closely.
He raised an eyebrow. “Girls who block snowy streets with their tiny, useless, stranded cars even after they’ve been warned by the police.”
“Ha!” She turned and stepped closer to him, happy when he backed up into the wall. “I’ll be nimble as a little bunny. You’ll see.”
“I do have experience in this kind of—”
“Oh, I know you have experience, Chief. But I’m no beginner, either.”
Clearing his throat, Ben pushed off the wall and headed back toward the front. Unfortunately his coat hid most of his butt, but she could still appreciate the movement of his hard thighs and the tempting sight of the nape of his neck beneath his hat. “Thanks for wearing the cowboy hat for me, Ben.”
The neck turned pink. “It’s part of my uniform, Molly,” he growled.
She was almost positive he was more than a little interested in her, but she suddenly had the fear that his blushes were more the “just leave me alone” kind than the “you’re hot, don’t tease me” variation. He’d