Page 25 of Naughty With The Mountain Man
The diner is warm,with fogged windows and the smell of bacon grease and cinnamon. Christmas garlands hang sloppilyover the doorframes, and there’s a plastic Santa in the corner that’s seen better decades.
Our server, Greta, spots us and lights up.
“Ellie! I was hoping I’d see you today.”
Ellie grins. “Hey, G. How’s Jack?”
“Still trying to convince me he doesn’t need snow boots, despite nearly freezing his toes off at recess yesterday.” She leans against the table, scribbling something on her pad. “And who’s this?”
“Micah,” Ellie says, casting me a glance that softens at the edges. “A friend. He’s, uh… helping out for a bit.”
Greta raises an eyebrow like she seesexactlywhat kind of helping is going on but doesn’t comment. “Nice to meet you, Micah. Try the pie. I made it this morning.”
“You bake too?” I ask.
“I do it all, baby,” she says with a wink before bouncing away.
Ellie’s shoulders shake with a quiet laugh. “She’s the best.”
“She’s trouble.”
“You’re just not used to people being nice.”
I grunt but don’t argue.
We order, and while we’re halfway through greasy burgers and curly fries, the door chimes and Nate steps inside, shaking snow off his shoulders and scanning the room.
His eyes land on us. Then on Ellie. Then, slowly, on me.
I brace for a lecture, but instead, he heads straight to our booth with that unreadable calm I know too well.
He’s not just visiting.
He’s got news.
Before he can even sit down, Greta swoops in. “You’re late, Mr. Bishop. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”
He smirks. “Not a chance, Greta. You know I can’t stay away from your sass.”
“Damn right.” She pours him a coffee without asking. “Stay out of trouble.”
“Iamtrouble.”
She laughs and walks off, but not before brushing her hand a little too long over his shoulder.
Ellie raises her eyebrows. “Do I sense something between you two?”
Nate slides into the booth beside her, ignoring the question with practiced skill. “We’ve got a few leads,” he says instead, dropping his voice low. “Nothing concrete. We’ve found the store that the ornaments were purchased at and are trying to locate purchase orders now.”
My jaw clenches. “Location?”
“Close. Next town over. Little shop.”
Ellie frowns. “I hate this.”
“I know,” Nate says. “We’ll find whoever’s responsible.”
I lean forward. “What about cameras in the store?”
