Ivy remained confused. “What does the dog have to do with that?”
Betsy shrugged, noncommittal. “Perhaps they have a lot of Saint Bernards in Canada. I mean ... it would make sense. It’s pretty cold up there.” She snagged the magazine, which Ivy gladly relinquished, and flipped to a random page. “Oh, well, look at this. There’s a horse in this one.”
It was like a train wreck, Ivy decided. She didn’t want to look and yet she couldn’t stop herself. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what they need a horse for.”
“She’s a Mountie,” Betsy said. “She’s got the hat and everything. No uniform, of course, but the horse looks as if he’s kind of in uniform because he has a tie on.”
“That is ... horrible.”
Tickled, Betsy let loose a low chortle. “You’re funny. I love how prudish you are even though you’re engaged to that smoking-hot detective. I mean, he’s practically sex on two legs, girl.”
“And he’s devoted to you,” Alison added, bobbing her head knowingly. “I don’t know any woman who wouldn’t appreciate — and constantly want to talk about — the time spent with a man like that.”
Ivy pinned her with a dark look. “I’m not talking about my sex life with you. I barely know you.”
“How long would it take for you to trust me?” Alison asked. “I’m willing to wait. I’m on the dry spell to end all dry spells.”
Betsy’s laugh was loud enough to draw Greg’s attention, and when she raised her hand for Alison to high-five her, Greg started in their direction.
“Oh, great,” Ivy muttered under her breath. “He’s coming over here. Now you’ve done it.”
Betsy straightened her shoulders and wiped the smirk off her face. “I’ve got this under control. You have nothing to worry about.”
Ivy harbored a yacht full of doubts, but it was too late to call the older woman on the carpet. Greg had already encroached on their space.
“What are you guys doing?” Greg demanded.
“We had to wrestle this box of porn into submission,” Betsy replied, straight-faced despite the amusement glinting in her eyes. “It was more difficult than you might think.”
Greg blinked several times in rapid succession. “Porn?”
Betsy nodded, solemn. “Someone — and I’m betting it was a teenaged someone who was trying to keep his mother from finding his stash — dumped a hundred bucks’ worth of porn out here. I think it must’ve been recent, too, because the magazines aren’t even wet.”
“Not with water anyway,” Alison said blithely.
Ivy’s eyes opened to the size of saucers and she was horrified. “I ... they ... .” She looked to Greg, hoping beyond hope she would be able to come up with an appropriate explanation. Her head was empty, though.
Thankfully, Greg wasn’t even looking at her. He was more interested in the porn. “Is that the Great Klondike issue?” He jerked it out of Betsy’s hands. “This is a collector’s edition. I can’t believe someone would just throw this out like trash.”
Alison pressed her lips together in an attempt to keep from laughing. Because the woman’s reaction was so funny, Ivy had to avert her gaze for fear once she started giggling, she might never be able to stop.
“You seem to know your stuff,” Betsy commented.
“What?” Greg jerked his gaze away from the magazine. It took him a moment to catch up with the conversation. “Oh, don’t be a pain, Betsy.” He made a face. “I just know things because I have one of those minds that traps information.” He tapped the side of his head for emphasis. “I’m a genius.”
Ivy could think of a few other words to describe him but opted to keep them to herself. No good would come of her being snarky now.
“You guys can leave the magazines,” Greg said after a beat. “I’ll handle packing them up.”
Betsy refused to hide her smirk. It was obvious she wasn’t afraid of Greg, something Ivy legitimately envied her for. “I think that’s a smashing idea.”
Greg, although often oblivious, didn’t miss Betsy’s tone. “Only because I don’t want you chicks complaining to the higher-ups about being sexually harassed by magazines. I’m trying to be mindful of your feelings.”
“And you’re doing a wonderful job of it,” Alison chortled, turning away from the box and moving to the east. “I’m going to head this way. I’ll let you know if we find more collector’s editions.”
“Oh, stuff it.” Greg flipped through a few pages of the magazine and then focused on Ivy. “You need to stick close to me.”
For a moment, Ivy was flummoxed. “You mean ... with you and the magazines?”
He rolled his eyes in exaggerated fashion. “No, I don’t want you to have to deal with the magazines. I’ll handle them. I just don’t want you wandering too far.”
“Oh, I feel so unloved,” Betsy intoned. “Why is Ivy your favorite?”
“It’s not about her being my favorite,” Greg shot back. “It’s about ... you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. If you don’t like my decisions, then take it up with my boss. I think you know what he’ll say, though.”
“Yes, that he wants you to share the collector’s edition with him.”
“Go!” Greg pointed in the direction Alison had headed and Betsy dutifully bowed before following. She offered up an amused wink for Ivy’s benefit before disappearing. “You need to stick close to me,” he said to Ivy when it was just the two of them. “‘Detective Harker has involved me in his case, going so far as to put me in charge of your safety.”
Ivy was afraid of that. “Jack is a worrier. I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“I’m sure, too.” Greg was matter-of-fact. “I’ve already lost two people this go-around. If you get killed on my watch, it’s going to mean a lot more trouble ... and paperwork.”
The statement was so absurd Ivy would’ve laughed under different circumstances. Unfortunately, she figured he meant every word he said. “Well, I don’t want you to have to do
