Page 44 of Rocky Mountain Cowboy Christmas
“Hmm.” The sound was noncommittal, but Steve had a feeling what he’d said hadn’t made a difference. She was still going to thank him over and over for saving her and Lucy’s lives. If it meant he could continue spending time with her—even if it was at the DMV—he was surprisingly okay with that.
She climbed into the truck, and he closed the door carefully before moving around to get into the driver’s seat. As he buckled his seat belt, he caught another glimpse of the remains of the house, a stark, black silhouette against the gold of the late-afternoon sun. He paused, disturbed by the menacing grimness of the scene.
“Drive!” Camille whispered harshly, making him start. “Go! Now!”
“What is it?” Tense and alert, he scanned the area for real danger. His hand automatically reached for his truck radio mic, so he’d be ready to call for backup. There was nothing that he could see, though. The neighborhood was quiet as always.
She groaned dramatically. “It’s too late now. She knows we’ve spotted her.”
“Her? Who?” Steve leaned forward so he could see out Camille’s window. He caught a glimpse of Mrs. Lin hurrying toward the car, and he suddenly understood Camille’s rush to leave so she didn’t get caught in a conversation. The realization was so anticlimactic that he snorted a laugh as his hand dropped off the mic. It was obvious that Camille was trying to glare at him, but she couldn’t hold it.
“It’s not funny,” she wailed quietly. Despite her words, laughter bubbled in her voice. “We’re trapped now. Next time I say ‘drive,’ you put your foot on the gas and floor it, got it?”
“Got it.” He struggled to regain a straight face as he lowered Camille’s window. Mrs. Lin was only a few steps away, carrying stuffed shopping bags.
“Good. I caught you.” Mrs. Lin was puffing a little from exertion. “I thought you were going to drive off like mannerless heathens, leaving me coughing on your exhaust.”
Steve fought the urge to chuckle again. It was Camille’s fault. Normally, he knew people thought he was serious, even stern. He’d rather stay quiet and listen than talk. When he was around Camille, though, he became as happy and chatty as Maya on a sugar high. Camille made him feel lighter somehow, even when dealing with something as serious as a fire.
“No mannerless heathens here,” she lied through her teeth, as if she hadn’t been demanding that Steve do just that. He swallowed another laugh. “We’re just in a hurry, since we’re headed to the fire marshal’s office, hoping to catch her before she leaves for the day.”
Glancing at the dashboard clock, he saw it was four forty. Even though Camille was using their rush as an excuse, it was actually true. They needed to move if they wanted to talk to Jackie.
“The fire marshal?” Mrs. Lin’s voice was full of prurient interest, and Steve felt all of his good humor drain away. Camille didn’t need nosy townspeople questioning her about her loss for their own gossipy amusement.
“Something we can do for you, Mrs. Lin?” he asked, knowing his tone came out short but not caring. Camille’s feelings came first, and he was willing to be rude if necessary. In fact, he was willing to do a lot more than that to protect her.
“No. I have something for you, Camille.” She lifted the two stuffed shopping bags she was holding. “This isn’t much, just a few things from me and Gladys, but everyone in town heard what happened and wants to help, so you should be getting much more in a few days. What’s in here isn’t like your usual sloppy getups, but at least this way you’ll have something to wear until you can manage to go shopping.”
Suddenly realizing what Mrs. Lin was doing, Steve hopped out and circled the truck. “Here,” he said, feeling much more kindly toward her than he’d been a minute ago. “Let me help.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lin. That was so kind of you and Mrs. Murphy.” Camille got out of the truck as well. She moved as if to hug the older woman but awkwardly came to a halt when Mrs. Lin raised her hand and shook her finger in Camille’s face.
“No getting up to any of your usual tricks with any of those Springfield boys, understand? It’s bad enough when I was the only one watching, but now there are easily corruptible children to think of. Don’t be leading them into any trouble, missy.”
Steve stiffened. He didn’t care what Mrs. Lin thought about him, but he was furious that she’d accused Camille of doing anything that might hurt the kids. This was Camille’s neighbor and her grandma’s friend, someone who’d known Camille her whole life. Mrs. Lin had to know her better than that, which made what she said so much worse, since her only reason was to be cruel.
“You—oof!” Camille’s elbow caught him in the ribs, cutting him off. The nudge surprised him more than it hurt, and he got the message and closed his mouth, keeping his rant inside.
“I have no tricks to get up to,” Camille said, somehow keeping a smile on her face as she held Mrs. Lin’s narrowed gaze. “And I think Steve’s children are more likely to lead me into trouble than to follow me there, so I think they’re safe.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Safe fromme, at least. If they manage to blow up the ranch, that’s on them.”
Mrs. Lin gaped at her, startled into silence. Steve couldn’t hold back a grin. It was the first time he’d seen June Lin speechless, and he loved that Camille had won the argument—for now, at least.
“Camille, we should go,” he said, putting the bags in the back seat with the box of sculptures they’d retrieved from her Buick, as well as all of Camille’s purchases. Rose Varez, the manager at the bank, had known about the fire even before their visit earlier, and she’d helped Camille withdraw cash from her account and given her some temporary checks to hold her over until her new bank card arrived. It was a good thing, too, because Camille had refused every offer Steve had made to pay for anything. He knew it would’ve crushed her pride if she’d had to accept money from him because she couldn’t access her account.
“Right. Can’t miss the fire marshal.” Her smile brightened, becoming more authentic—likely because escape was imminent. “Thank you again, Mrs. Lin. And thank you for watching for looters for me, too.”
Mrs. Lin glanced around, as if checking the area. “Well, no problems yet, but I imagine they’ll be trying tonight.”
“Make sure to get some sleep.” Climbing into the passenger seat again, Camille waved as Steve closed her door and hurried around the truck. “Bye, Mrs. Lin.”
Steve could only manage a short nod in farewell as he eased the truck away from the curb. Camille rolled the window up, and they traveled the short distance to Jackie’s office in silence. As Mrs. Lin’s words replayed in his mind, he grew more and more annoyed.
“I don’t like how she talks to you,” Steve finally said as he parked in the lot next to the county building.
“Me either.” Despite her words, Camille didn’t sound too concerned, and his irritation on her behalf rose even more. “Whenever she implies I’m a harlot—or just calls me that outright—I remind myself of how she was after Grandma died, so depressed and remote, and I try to be grateful that she’s gotten her feistiness back. Besides, for her to successfully slut-shame me, I need to feel shame, and I try not to fall into that trap.” She shoved open her door and hopped out. As they headed for the building entrance, she added, “Plus, I was so shocked that she and Mrs. Murphy got together to actually do something good that I wasn’t paying much attention to what she was saying.”
Steve chewed over Camille’s answers in his head as he held the door and then followed her inside. “I still don’t like that she implied you’d hurt the kids,” he grumbled.
