Misty grinned at him. “It’s all for science,” she agreed, and lifted her mouth back to his.
~*~
“I had a to-go order.”
Across the counter, Crystal Blue, proprietress of Crystal’s Diner and current pain in Denver’s ass, pursed her lips. “I’m not handing over those sandwiches until you confirm or deny the rumors.”
“Holding takeout hostage in the name of gossip is a low move, even for you, Crystal.”
“What is the big deal, Denver? Everybody knows you and Misty have been spending loads of time together this past month. And don’t even try to tell me it’s just for the sake of Kennedy and Xander’s wedding. I want to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. Are you and Misty Pennebaker together?” She fisted her hands on ample hips and stared him down.
When Denver just stared back, Crystal stamped her foot. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“If I say yes, will you give me my sandwiches, while they’re still hot?”
“As long as it’s not a lie.”
“Then yes.” Not that he had any idea how Crystal would be able to verify the accuracy of the statement one way or another.
“I knew it!” she crowed.
“Then why did you have to harass me about it?” Denver muttered.
“Oh, shut up and take some pie to your sweetheart.” Crystal boxed up a slice of cherry and added it to the bag before handing it across the counter.
“How do you know that’s where I’m going?”
“Because you ordered the grilled mac and cheese sandwich with curly fries, which is what she always orders.”
“So does half the town. It’s your best-selling sandwich.”
“Yeah, but the rest of the town doesn’t make you smile.”
Realizing he was grinning like the damned Cheshire Cat, Denver pokered up. Crystal just smirked at him. Time to go.
“Tell Misty I said hi!”
“You wanted to live here,” he reminded himself as he hit the sidewalk. But this was the first time he’d been the center of attention since the year he’d moved to The Ridge. He kept to himself, kept off their radar, and he liked that way. So did Misty. Well, they were in it now. He’d probably best confirm the status of their relationship himself before it got back to her that he’
d up and made a public announcement in the diner.
Denver was still pondering how to broach that subject as he opened the door to Moonbeams and Sweet Dreams. He knew instantly that something was off. Pausing just in the threshold, he scanned the shop. Nothing seemed out of place. Then he realized there was no music. Maybe she was picking a new playlist. He headed for the back.
“Misty?”
“In the back.” Her voice lacked its usual cheerful enthusiasm.
Oh God. What if something had happened to Moxie? Braced for the worst, Denver quickened his pace. As soon as he rounded the counter, the little dog leapt up from her bed and rushed over, demanding attention. He loosed a breath and scooped her up, giving her an automatic cuddle as he continued into Misty’s workroom.
She sat at a table. Beside her was an open wooden crate, spilling packing material onto the floor. On the table itself was an enormous glass…something or other. It was obviously art of some kind, but that was as much as he could tell.
She swiveled on her stool and mustered up a smile. But it was a weak facsimile of her norm. “Hi.” She seemed dimmer somehow, not at all herself.
Denver set the food on a shelf. “I brought lunch.”
“That was sweet. Thanks.”
“What’s wrong?”