Borrowing Trouble by Stacy Finz Page B

Brady’s bosses—to the Ponderosa for happy hour. As long as Sloane didn’t have to work, she planned to take Harlee up on the offer.
    This may not be my dream job, but I may as well enjoy myself while I’m here . She took her and Harlee’s mugs into the kitchen, did the dishes, and spent much of the afternoon unpacking and decorating the apartment with her pictures, knickknacks, pillows and rugs. It was too late to go to Reno for paint, but she’d make it next on her agenda. She was just leaving to go to the Nugget Market when Brady pulled up.
    He got out of his van, looking ruggedly windblown. From the backpack he lugged with him, it looked like he’d been hiking.
    â€œHey.” He nudged his head at her, sat on the porch rocker, and removed his hiking boots. “You have the day off?”
    â€œYep. Spent it unpacking.”
    â€œWhere you headed?”
    â€œTo the grocery store,” she said. “You need anything?”
    â€œI’m good.” He had that right. “See you later.”
    Sloane would’ve invited him over later for a bite, in reciprocation for the pie and frittata he’d fixed for lunch the other day. But she felt intimidated cooking for him. Her best dish was spaghetti carbonara, which was neither original nor particularly good. But it was fast, and fed an end-of-the-day carb craving. Maybe she’d call her mother and get a few good recipes from the McBride family repertoire. She needed to check in anyway.
    The market was nearly empty. Ethel, the nice lady who owned it with her husband, Stu, gave her a warm welcome. While on patrol she stopped by a few times a day and usually bought a bottle of water or a pack of gum. According to Jake, a couple of years ago the place had been held up by some strung-out guy. Weeks later, the robber took the chief’s wife hostage at the inn and Rhys shot him. Because they didn’t get much crime like that in Nugget, people were still talking about it. That, and the recent shooting and drug bust at a local ranch on the outskirts of town. It was the one everyone called a cowboy camp, which as far as Sloane could tell was a dude ranch. The owner was that Lucky Rodriguez guy who Harlee had mentioned was a member of the single bowlers group. According to Jake, he was also a world famous bull rider.
    â€œYou off today?” Ethel asked her.
    â€œI am. It’s quiet, huh?”
    â€œIt got busy around two.”
    Sloane grabbed a cart. “I’m stocking up.”
    â€œYou let me know if there is anything you can’t find, dear.”
    â€œThanks, Ethel.”
    Healthy eaters always said you were supposed to shop the perimeter of the grocery store. Produce, dairy, meats—the fresh foods. Sloane always headed straight to the middle, where they kept the boxed and canned goods, then over to the frozen section. Today, she cruised each aisle, checking out the selection. It was a nice little store. No Trader Joe’s, but it carried all the necessities.
    She filled her cart with her usual provisions, grabbed a couple of packaged meats from the deli section, and headed to the condiment shelves. On her way to the cash register, she perused the magazines. “Twenty Ways to Get Your Man.” She tossed the Cosmo into her cart.
    After checking out, she went home. Brady’s van was gone again. Maybe he’d gone out to dinner. She unloaded, put her groceries away, and called her parents before it got too late with the two-hour time difference. Afterward, she warmed a can of tomato soup on the stovetop and made herself a grilled cheese. Good comfort food on a cold night. She listened for Brady’s van, thinking that if she timed it right she could bump into him while taking out the garbage.
    But when ten o’clock rolled around, she gave up, changed into her pajamas, and crawled under her down comforter with her Cosmo . Sometime around midnight she heard movement next door, turned