Interlude (The Snow & Winter Collection #1) - C.S. Poe Page 0,16

accusingly, very much at us and not Jeremy.

I kept my hand wrapped around Calvin and said, “I think he’s crying because he’s got a load in his drawers and a face sticky with snot.”

“If I wanted to see—” She struggled a beat before spitting out, like the words tasted bad, “—gay sex, I’d rent that on pay-per-view.”

“And if I wanted to see kids licking parking meters,” I said calmly, “I’d go to the zoo.”

Mommy’s expression twisted like a corkscrew. She looked to her right, then left, and saw the middle child was, indeed, now licking the meter she’d been swinging from. “Mandy! You don’t know where that’s been!” She dragged the toddler behind her, grabbed Mandy with her other hand, and hoofed it down the sidewalk. “Jeremy!” She snapped over her shoulder.

Jeremy was smirking as he reluctantly followed at a distance.

“That was pretty good,” Calvin stated, looking down at me.

“Thanks. Is pay-per-view even a thing anymore?”

“I have no idea. Let’s check in.”

The interior of the hotel was exactly what I’d hoped for—eclectic and beautiful Victorian furniture, vivid period wallpaper, and dark woodwork, all merging with a touch of upper-class Western aesthetic. There was a sitting area near the plate-glass window on the left and a grand reception desk immediately ahead. A hall just to the right looked to lead to the staircase.

“Henry Strater built the hotel in 1887,” I was saying to Calvin as he approached the desk. “It cost seventy thousand dollars at the time. He leased it to H.L. Rice to manage, and there ended up being a falling-out between them. So he built another hotel to compete with the Strater.”

“The Columbian,” answered the handsome, probably blond, gentleman at the counter. “Right next door, if you can believe it. You know your Strater history, sir.”

“I have a complicated relationship with the nineteenth century.”

That made Calvin laugh under his breath before he said, “We’re checking in. Reservation is under Calvin Winter.”

Blondie tip-tapped on his keyboard, glanced up every few click-clacks, then said, “Five nights, a deluxe king. Is that correct?”

Calvin nodded and confirmed his credit card on file.

Blondie was passing Calvin a set of room keys as he said, “If you step just outside the Strater, Mahogany Grille is to your right—it’s a very relaxed and romantic setting for dinner. The menus are sourced from local farms and ranches. And to the left is the Diamond Belle, if you’d like to grab a drink and enjoy some live music.” He looked directly at me. “The saloon girls are in costume, for the nineteenth century connoisseurs.”

“My tastes are more in-line with cowboys.”

Blondie smiled and winked. “We’ve got those too.”

Calvin took our suitcase in one hand and nudged me. “Let’s go, baby.”

“He winked at me,” I stage-whispered by the time we’d reached the wide staircase and started up the steps.

“Uh-huh.”

“Men don’t wink at me.”

“That one did.”

“He must have had something in his eye.”

“Maybe he’s also a connoisseur.”

I stopped at the second-floor landing, but Calvin moved around me and started up the next set of stairs. “You’re using that you’re-not-property-but-I’m-still-territorial voice.”

Calvin paused and looked over his shoulder at me.

I shrugged and climbed past him. “It’s hot.” I managed not to shiver when Calvin lightly drew his free hand down my spine and to the small of my back. At the third floor, I let Calvin take the lead, since he had the key cards. “Was there a reason for Durango in particular?”

He scanned the card and pushed the door to our room open. “A CSU detective I’m friendly with got married here last month. She told me about the hotel and local attractions—” Calvin paused to push the suitcase against the wall, turned, and flashed me a handsome, lopsided smile. “It made me think of you.”

I scratched my scruff with one hand and said, a little self-consciously, while stepping inside, “You’re getting so lucky tonight.” I studied an armoire in the far corner, a squat dresser with an attached mirror, and a set of mismatched chairs. I ran my hand along the blanket on the bed and the footboard, which looked like hand-carved mahogany, then moved to peer through the curtains at the bay window. “Beautiful view of Main Avenue.” I perked at the distant sound of a whistle and turned to Calvin. “You can hear the train from here.”

He had his arms crossed and was leaning against the open door with a very satisfied expression on his face.

I pointed up. “They’ve even got the ceiling paper.”

Calvin inclined his head toward the