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have gone for. Tall. Built. Easy.
    â€œShe’s a private investigator,” Stanley provided while he placed the box of granola in a plastic bag.
    That announcement surprised Rob. Almost as much as when he’d turned around and seen her standing a few feet from him, looking as stunned as he’d felt.
    He handed Stanley a ten. “She doesn’t look like any investigators I’ve ever met,” he said, and he’d known a few.
    â€œThat’s what makes her so good,” Stanley bragged. “Women talk to her because she’s one of them, and men talk to her because we just can’t resist a beautiful woman.”
    Rob had been doing a pretty good job of resisting women for a while now. Beautiful or otherwise. It wasn’t easy, never that, but he’d thought he’d gotten over the worst of it. The constant craving—until a certain redhead had propositioned him. Walking away from Kate Hamilton had been one of the hardest things he’d done in a very long time.
    He put the bills in his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket.
    â€œHere’s the key to your place,” Stanley said and shut the cash drawer. “A couple of boxes from UPS came while you were gone. And yesterday, I picked your mail up off the floor for ya.”
    â€œYou didn’t have to do that.” Rob took the key to his store and put it back on his key ring. Before he’d left for his ski trip, Stanley had offered to accept freight for him. “I appreciate it, though. I made you something for your trouble.” He unzipped the breast pocket on the inside of his jacket and pulled out a fishing fly. “This is a bead-head nymph I tied just before I left. Rainbows can’t resist these guys.”
    Stanley took it and held it up to the light. The ends of his handlebar mustache lifted up. “It’s a beauty, but you know I don’t fly-fish.”
    â€œNot yet,” he said and grabbed his bag of groceries. “But I’m planning your intervention.” He headed for the door. “See ya, Stanley.”
    â€œSee ya. Tell your mother I said hello.”
    â€œWill do,” Rob said and walked from the store.
    The midmorning sun bounced off snow banks and blinded him with white, stabbing rays. With his free hand, he dug around in the pocket of his heavy coat for his sunglasses. He shoved the Rēvos on the bridge of his nose, and instantly the deep blue polarized lenses eliminated the glare.
    He’d parked his black HUMMER in the first slot, and he slid easily into the front seat. He didn’t care what anyone thought about his HUMMER. Not his mother and certainly not environmentalists. He liked the leg room and the shoulder room too. He didn’t feel so huge in the HUMMER. Cramped. Like he took up too much space. He liked the storage capacity and the fact that it plowed through snow and climbed over rocks with grit and spit and enough pure muscle to spare. And yeah, he liked the fact that he could climb over the top of the other cars on the road if he had to.
    He fired up the vehicle and reached into the grocery bag to pull out the apple. He took a bite and put the SUV in reverse. From within the M&S, he caught a glimpse of red ponytail and black shirt.
    Her name was Kate, and the night he’d walked out of the Duchin Lounge, he never thought he’d see her again. Not in a million years, but here she was, living in Gospel. Stanley Caldwell’s granddaughter was working right across the parking lot from Rob, pricing cans and looking better than he remembered—and what he’d remembered had been pretty damn good.
    Rob shoved the HUMMER into gear and drove around to the back of his store. She hadn’t been pleased to see him. Not that he could blame her. He could have let her down easier that night. A lot easier, but being propositioned had pissed him off. It had reminded him of a time in his life when he would have taken her up on the offer.