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She pulled me closer with her arms around my shoulders, inspecting my face, her brown eyes roving all over me. I liked how it felt to have her attention on me when she wasn’t yelling at me or frustrated with me. Well, maybe she was a little.

“I like you too,” she whispered. “We were good together.”

“Yeah,” I said kind of breathlessly, remembering when she’d had her hand between my legs. But as much as I thought about her body, I couldn’t get the memory of snuggling with her on my couch out of my head. The memory of holding her. Of her holding me. Of the way it had felt when she’d dragged her fingertip up the inside of my arm slowly as she told me about growing up in New Mexico. “I felt somethin’ that night. It was different than anything I’ve felt before.”

“Me too, but maybe it was just ’cause we were so caught up.”

“No,” I said, tucking that unruly, curly flip of hair behind her ear. It was like that one lock of hair had a mind of its own. Today, it had curved out away from her face, like a hook constantly and determinedly trying to draw my eyes to the edge of her mouth. “I don’t think that’s all it was.”

“How can you know?”

“S’pose I can’t,” I said, “unless you kiss me again. Then I’ll know for sure.”

The cowbell on the front door jangled, and I froze.

No one could see me like this. I shouldn’t have taken the chance.

Releasing her, I stepped back, and Devo, noticing the wince on my face, slid down from the counter. She adjusted her shorts and walked behind the register as a man entered the store.

“Hi,” Devo said to him. “Welcome to The Red Wild Outdoors.” Then she muttered to herself, “God, that’s a stupid name. Sounds like a conservative river rafting company.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her frown to a toothy smile. “What can I help you with today?”

“Who’re you?” Artie Crane asked, removing his cap and running a hand through his short brown hair. He had a big bulge of nicotine gum tucked inside his right cheek. He’d been trying to quit chew for a year at least.

“I’m Devo. I’m fillin’ in for Red today.”

“Red didn’t say nothin’ ’bout a woman workin’ here.”

“Uh, no, he wouldn’t have.” Devo tucked that adorable lock of hair behind her ear again, but it popped right back out. “This is a new… arrangement. But I’m here to help.”

He looked her up and down and laughed. “Whatcha know about ammo? ’Cause that’s what I need.”

She pinched the lock of hair between two fingers and then yanked it behind her ear nervously. “Um, ammo?”

“Ammunition,” I whispered, trying to help. “He means bullets.”

He glanced at me in greeting. “Deputy.”

“Hey there, Crane,” I said, righting my holster around my hips. I wanted to re-tuck my shirt into my uniform pants so it was straight, but how obvious would that have looked? Did he know how close I had just been to sticking my tongue down Devo’s throat? “How’s the family?”

He nodded and looked back at Devo. “They’re fine, but they’re gonna need some food in their bellies come winter, so I need me some ammo.”

Devo’s face fell. “Why do you need bullets to feed your family?”

Crane laughed. “You do know what ammunition is, right?” He threw his hands in the air, turning toward me. “She for real?”

“Crane’s a hunter,” I said. “He hunts deer and elk. He needs ammo—bullets—because he’d like to go huntin’.”

“Of course I know what it is,” she said, rolling her eyes, but then she pegged Crane with a thoughtful frown. “But why can’t you just go buy meat at the Food Mart?”

“That’s not how this works, missy. I got all the necessary licenses and permits. I got my tags. The season starts in a couple weeks. I just need ammo. You gonna sell it to me, or do I gotta go find Red and tell him you can’t do the job?”

“No!” Devo rushed to say. “Nope. I can help you. Um—” She looked around the store until her eyes landed on about a hundred different brands and types of boxes of ammunition under a glass case lining the south wall. She walked there slowly and lifted the lid. “These look nice. The green box is kinda cool.” She picked up a box of birdshot and held it up in the air. “Will these work?”

“Sure,” Crane said, “if I was huntin’ quail. That’s twelve-gauge birdshot for a shotgun. I need the big-game ammo for a rifle. One shelf down and three to your left. Blue box. The Federal thirty-aught-sixes, 180 grain. Gimme three boxes. You see the little elk head on the side?”

Turning the box in her hand to inspect it, Devo nodded. “Aw. He’s cute.”

Now, Crane rolled his eyes. “For future reference, if you’re not sure what kind you need, you can check that. You’ll see an animal or a target for target practice, but most hunters will already know what they need.”