Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105868 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Ace hadn’t even thought of a present. “Crap.”
Ophelia frowned, her blue eyes shining with intelligence like usual. “You’re just like Brock. He has no ideas either.”
“It’s Christian,” Ace said, and that should explain everything. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I mean, the guy doesn’t need or want anything. I guess we can get him a new pair of boots.”
“We can’t get them a new pair of boots,” Ophelia said, her voice rising.
Ace held up a hand to avoid that octave ever again. “Okay. Geez.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself as sunlight spilled across the desk between them, catching dust in the air. “I think we focus on Amka.”
“Yes.” Ophelia perked up, stepping away from the desk and pacing once across the office. “That’s what we do. What does Amka like?”
“Her bar?” Ace didn’t know fashion or think Amka was into that, anyway. “I mean, I’ve known Amka her whole life. She likes her bar. She likes people.” A wedding gift shouldn’t be this hard. “What about a new snowmobile? We could all pitch in.”
“As a wedding present?” Ophelia’s brows pulled together while she apparently considered the idea, and then she dismissed it with a small shake of her head. “You know who might have an idea is Damian.”
Ace pulled his phone from his back pocket and texted Damian.
WHAT ARE YOU GETTING CHRISTIAN AND AMKA FOR THEIR WEDDING PRESENT?
Three dots appeared almost immediately as Damian texted back.
OH, CRAP. I DIDN’T EVEN THINK ABOUT A PRESENT.
Ace’s shoulders slumped. “If Damian hasn’t thought of anything, we’re totally screwed.” He let his gaze drift back to the framed photograph of the sheriff’s station. The sky above it showed the pure blue of an Alaskan day. “Wait a minute. I bet May has an idea. She probably has a photograph she’s planning to give to them.”
Ophelia pushed him in the arm, the gesture quick and sisterly. “That’s from May, not you.”
“We’re dating now. I think I could sign her present. What if she has a photograph and then I pay to get it framed?” Relief slid through him. “Yep. That’s the plan.”
“What about us?” Olly asked.
Ace grinned. “You’re on your own, lady. That’s why you should be careful who you hook up with in this town. Brock’s terrible at giving presents.”
She snorted. “I’m well aware of that. I’ve already been the recipient of a practical gift from him.”
Ace held up a hand. “I don’t even want to know what it was.”
“No, you don’t. Let’s just say I’ll let my feet freeze before wearing those in the winter. Ever.”
“Oof.” He winced. Brock Osprey buying boots for a woman. “Oh, Olly, I’m sorry.”
Ophelia smiled, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe I’ll see if I can buy a photograph from May too.”
“Nope. That was my idea. Sorry.” He winked.
“What was your idea?” Brock walked into the room, filling the doorway before stepping inside. He leaned down and kissed Ophelia on the forehead, then straightened, his broad shoulders brushing the edge of the bookshelf.
“What to get Christian and Amka for a wedding present.” Ace felt pretty damn light all of a sudden, the weight from earlier conversations thinning out for a second.
Brock looked at Ophelia. “Do we have any ideas?”
“No,” she said.
“Huh.” Brock tossed a file folder onto his desk.
A knock sounded against the open doorframe. Paige poked her head in, her expression careful.
“Mr. Osprey?”
“Yes, Trooper Johnson?” Ace figured she was talking to him.
“My partner and I were wondering if you’d sit down with us again to answer a couple more questions.”
Great. They were back to this again.
Ace felt the shift in the room. “Not without my lawyer,” he said grimly.
Brock’s phone buzzed and he glanced at the face before lifting it to his ear. “Hey, Doc. What’s going on?” His expression flattened out. “When did you last see her? Okay. No, thanks. You stay at the clinic.”
“What is it?” Paige asked.
Brock tipped his head. “That was May. Ivy Carter didn’t come into work today, and Lance headed out to her house, but she didn’t answer the door. I need to conduct a wellness check.”
Tension wound through Ace. Ivy? What the hell? “Brock—”
“Where’s the sheriff?” came a loud and panicked man from the main room.
Brock pivoted and headed that way with the rest of them following quickly behind. “I’m the sheriff.”
“I’m Greg Thompson.” The man leaned over, sucking in air. His hair was wild, as was his beard. He looked up and held out his phone. “My brother just called. They’re fishing up Two Trout Creek, and they found a body. It’s that nurse named Ivy? We played darts with her last night. Mick says she’s dead.”
Ace sucked in air.
Paige moved toward him. “Did you take her home last night?”
“No.” Greg waved his hands, today wearing a blue flannel over dark jeans. “Not at all.”