Misty couldn’t help the pleased smile that spread over her face. “It was?”
Ty nodded, still catching his breath. “I haven’t run like that in—oh, I don’t know how long.”
“You’re fast,” Misty observed.
“In short bursts,” Ty said, waving a hand. “Big cats are sprinters, not marathon runners. But that kind of all-out run—I love it. I forgot how much I love it.”
He had that broad, bright grin on his face again. Like the moment was too wonderful for his expression to contain.
“I try to get out and run every day, if I can,” Misty said softly. “Even if it was a long, hard day at work. It always refreshes me. And looking at all of this—” She turned to survey the slope down to town.
They weren’t very far elevated yet, but it was still enough to see the lights of the town twinkling below them, the inky black of the mountains on the horizon, and of course the endless stars overhead.
“You can’t see a sky like this in the city,” Ty said, sounding wistful. “There’s way too much light. You’re lucky if you see a few stars here and there.”
Misty couldn’t imagine going without a night sky like this for her entire life. “I feel the clearest when I’m out here at night,” she said. “Like I really know what my purpose is. To protect all of this, keep it clean and safe and beautiful.”
Ty breathed, in and out. “That’s everything a person should want. To know their purpose.”
Misty nodded. “I’m lucky.”
He turned his gaze on her. “You are.”
Their eyes met and held for a long minute. Misty was struck by the memory of the moment back in the clearing, when they’d been so close their noses almost touched.
Then Ty shivered, and Misty blinked. “Are you cold? You left your jacket back by the car.”
Ty laughed. “This southern California boy isn’t used to the weather up here. Back home, we call it winter when it rains for a day or two and the temperature gets below seventy.”
Misty shook her head, unwilling to disbelieve him, but having a hard time picturing it. “Up here, we call it summer when it stops getting down into the thirties at night.”
He chuckled. “Well, I’ll just have to toughen up, I guess.”
Misty said, “I like—” and then bit her lip.
“What?” Ty asked, his gaze turning soft.
“It’s just a—a personal thing to say. I’m sorry.”
“Tell me,” he said, taking a step forward.
“I like how you can laugh at yourself,” she said quietly. “I’ve never...I haven’t known many men who could do that so easily.”
Her father hadn’t been a humorous man. And he’d taught her that strong men—strong people—took themselves seriously.
But Ty was a Marine veteran, a seasoned social worker, and a bona fide hero who’d saved her life today. He sure as hell wasn’t weak.
“Laughter’s what keeps me going,” Ty said, paradoxically serious. “You see that with kids—if they can learn to laugh when they fall down, instead of crying, they get up that much faster. It’s the same with everyone.”
“Well,” Misty said. “Maybe you can teach me sometime.”
“I think you’re doing just fine,” he said quietly.
***
Ty
Misty looked almost sad, staring down at the twinkling lights of the town. She was still in her sheriff’s uniform, must have come to dinner straight from work.