Kissing Booth

Kiss and Tell interview with Sheriff Red LeClair of Stranded With a Hero:

Please describe your physical appearance (eye color, hair color, height, etc.)

6’ tall, brown hair, brown eyes (although Frankie calls them “whisky-colored”). I don’t know what she’s talking about. Women, right?

What’s your profession?

Sheriff of Lutherton, Montana. Nice, quiet place, almost no crime, nothing to interrupt my peace-of-mind. Then Frankie came along.

What kind of music do you listen to? (What song is on your iPod right now?)

Kinda off music right now, thanks for asking. But Frankie’s convincing me to crack my mind open to it again.

Do you have a special skill?

I make the best campfire coffee you’ll ever taste!

What’s your favourite dessert/food?

Cupcakes!

Boxers or briefs?

Boxers. But in winter – especially in a power outage! – I rock a pair of long johns like you would not believe.

What is you favourite movie of all time?

Minority Report. (Don’t tell Frankie, but I agree with her that Love, Actually is better!)

Early bird or night owl?

We protector types are up whenever duty calls.

If you had to describe yourself as an ice cream flavour, what flavour would it be?

Oh, I’m rum-and-raisin. (Goes with the whisky-colored eyes, I guess.) Okay, maybe I’m not to everyone’s taste, but Frankie loves me and that’s all I care about.

“Hop on,” said Red, gesturing to the tractor.

Frankie looked at the small seat behind the steering wheel. “Forget it. I’m not driving that thing.”

He laughed. “Damn straight you’re not. But you’re not walking down alone. And since there’s no passenger seat you’re riding with me.” He climbed up, straddled the seat and slapped his thigh. “When we first met, you were an elf driving a load of Christmas reindeer in a stolen truck, on unfamiliar roads, during a blizzard. You’re trying to say this is beyond your comfort zone?”

She colored but her lips twitched. “Ignorance is bliss, Sheriff. I’m wiser now. Happy?”

She clambered up over the frigid steel and slid between his legs, barely perching on the molded metal seat. He put one arm around her and pulled her closer, settling them for what would be a bumpy ride. She clutched his leg to brace herself.

Oh yeah, he was happy.

He laughed again and pulled her tight. He was laughing a lot these days, he realized.

“We don’t exactly fit,” she muttered, squirming against him.

His grin faded. He swallowed. Hard. If he got any happier, he’d have trouble driving. “We fit just fine.”

We fit perfectly.

The thought surprised him but he realized it was true. Not only did they fit, but in the brief time he’d known Frankie, her energy, her optimism and determination had breathed life into the cold, dead ashes inside him, warming a spark he’d forgotten was there.

He tightened his legs around her.

“Ready?”

She turned her head and the movement brought their lips close enough to touch.

“Ready,” she answered.

Before he could think, he took the risk and made it happen, one quick soft touch, lingering just long enough to warm him through and through. Frankie caught her breath, but she didn’t pull away or turn her head, not until he released her.

“Mm.” Her little sigh made him want to do it again, immediately, inside by the fire. “For luck?”

“If you say so,” he answered, feeling as if his chest could burst wide open at any moment, letting music, Christmas carols even, pour out of him. He turned the key. The tractor rumbled to life and he clenched his thighs to keep her small body secure. “Hang on.”