Chapter 3

Am I reading this right?Alan barely dares to hope.

Still, can’t hurt to take a chance, can it? With a nod behind him, Alan says, “Bit nippy out here. Want to come in for a minute?”

Garrison gives another easy shrug. “I should really get back to work.” But he tucks one hand into his pants pocket and rocks back on his heels. Obviously not in any hurry.

“Just have a cuppa,” Alan offers.

Garrison grins. “I’m on duty, remember.”

“So we’ll leave the whiskey out of yours,” Alan jokes as he takes a step back. Uncrossing his arms, he gestures for Garrison to come inside. “After you, detective. I have coffee, hot tea, fresh lemonade. Pick your poison.”

“Thank you, Mr. Travers.”

Alan closes his eyes as Garrison passes by, breathing in deep his scent. God, that’s heavenly. He shuts the door and locks it out of habit. “Please, it’s Alan. Calling me mistermakes me feel ancient.”

“Alan, then.” With a nod, Garrison steps back to let Alan lead the way. “I’m Jim.”