After dinner, I’m in the station doing that most dreaded of law enforcement duties: paperwork. We have less than 5 percent of what I did down south. There’s zero council day-to-day oversight, so there’s no need to keep records beyond Anders jotting down something like “Jen is in the cell overnight for Jen crap.” Case notes are only for ourselves. There are no trials. Dalton is judge, with us playing jury as needed, and our idea of court proceedings is having a beer on the back deck to discuss what to do with an offender.
At first, I’d been horrified. This is not due process. But … well, if we are completely sure we have the right person, and they did what they are accused of, then I’ve realized I’m okay with skipping the formalities. As I discovered, in Rockton, we are always sure. The old Mountie motto has never held truer: We always get our man … or woman. It’s too small a community to steal something, assault someone, or break any law without leaving proof or witnesses.
That night, my paperwork is just jotting notes in the logbook for the two complaints I followed up on. I’m finishing when night-chilled hands slide around my waist, and I jump as Dalton lifts me from my chair. I twist in his grip, and before I can give him shit, he kisses me, deep and hungry, backing me onto the desk and easing between my knees.
When he breaks the kiss, he nuzzles my neck with, “Missed you.”
“I see that. Long day?”
“Very long.”
I try not to tense. “And unproductive?”
“Nope. Very productive, which is why I return to you in a very good mood.”
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer. “I see that. Also feel it.”
He chuckles. “I return bearing excellent news, which is going to make you very happy and that makes me very happy. Like returning with a stag over my shoulder. Only cleaner.”
I wriggle closer, hands entwined at the back of his neck. “You found Jacob.”
“I found Jacob, who told me exactly where we need to look. Also, you’re going to be an auntie.”
I blink up at him. “What?”
“Yep. April just told me she’s—” He sputters a laugh. “And I can’t even finish that sentence.”
“So no baby?”
“Yes, baby. No, April.”
I pause. Then I gasp. “Nicole and Jacob?”
Dalton nods.
I let out a whoop and kiss him, only breaking away to say, “Is Nicole here? She needs to see April. She—”
Dalton cuts me off with a kiss. “She’ll be here next week. They’re in a good hunting spot, and she feels fine. They’re already planning to spend the summer closer to Rockton, and they’ve agreed to overwinter here so they aren’t in the bush for the birth.”
I kiss him again, pouring all my joy into that kiss and getting all his back. A year ago, this might not have been such cause for celebration. We’d have been happy for them, of course, but it would have brought up the question of babies for us—a difficult subject in light of my medical history. But now we can be genuinely, unabashedly thrilled at the prospect of a baby in our lives, having come to realize that it’s possible to love kids and not be ready to have one ourselves just yet.
“So…” Dalton says, tracing his fingers down my cheek. “Make my day complete and tell me how the council congratulated us for our compassionate choice and careful handling of the situation.”
He sees my expression and winces with, “Shit. Sorry,” and a quick hug. “I was kidding. While I’m sorry you had to deal with that shit, I’m not sorry I got to skip it, which is probably part of my good mood.”
“They were pissy. I handled it. Phil did his part, too. He’s really stepping up.”
“I want to say I’m glad, but part of me wonders if it might not be better if…” He shakes his head. “I’m overthinking it. I’m glad he’s stepped up, too. You can tell me all about it later. For now…” His lips lower to my ear. “I think Storm is really eager to get home.”
I glance at the dog, who’d followed Dalton in and collapsed by the fire. Storm sees me looking, lifts one furry brow and sighs.
“She really wants to go home,” Dalton says.
“Or someone does.”
“Someone who had a very good day.”
“And wants a very good ending to it?”