Page 74 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Mafia Princess

“Was that him?” I asked.

“The family office.”

“You don’t have to answer.”

“I know.”

The first houses appeared below us, decorated with flags and red, white, and blue ribbons. Vehicles filled the main road while families carried chairs toward an open field lined withfood stands. Temporary markers separated the crowd from the fireworks site, and grilled meat scented the air.

I parked beside the authorized crew’s truck.

Talia reached for the handle, then stopped and looked at me.

“I remembered,” she said.

“What?”

“That you open doors when the ground might object to my shoes.”

“The ground’s uneven.”

“It usually is around you.”

I got out before she could decide whether that was an insult.

When I opened her door, she accepted my hand. The block heels landed securely in the dry grass.

Talia smoothed the skirt of her dress. “These boots have changed my relationship with Colorado.”

“You no longer expect it to kill you?”

“I’ve reduced the threat level.”

I took the radio and gloves from behind the seat.

Her gaze dropped to the equipment. “I’m staying out of the marked area.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t need to look concerned.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were about to tell me not to touch anything.”

“I know you won’t.”

That stopped her.

I closed the truck door. “You listened at the work site.”

“I always listen.”

“You frequently answer before the other person finishes.”

“That’s different.”

“It is.”