Page 21 of The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Mafia Princess

“You know what I mean.”

“I have contracts. People also call when a tree comes down across a road or an engine quits where it shouldn’t.”

“Do they pay you?”

“Usually.”

Her head turned slowly. “Usually?”

“Sometimes the problem needs fixing before anyone discusses money.”

“So everyone calls Jonah.”

“Not everyone.”

She waited.

“Enough people.”

“Are you always the person who fixes things?”

“I fix what I can.”

“That wasn’t quite an answer.”

“It was the one I had.”

She faced forward again.

Her phone lit in her lap.

One bar appeared, disappeared, then returned.

Talia sat straighter. “I have service.”

“Not enough yet.”

The phone chimed once before the bar vanished again.

She stared at the screen. “That was cruel.”

“It’ll hold when we get closer.”

“Promise Ridge is still how far?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

She placed the phone faceup on her thigh and watched it instead of the scenery.

I tried not to watch the bare skin above her knee.

The road smoothed as we descended. Pines gave way to wider clearings, mailboxes, and houses closer together. Another bar appeared, then a second.

Her phone began receiving messages in uneven bursts.

Talia silenced it without opening any of them.

“You can use my truck if you need privacy,” I said. “Or Mabel has a back corner near the post-office boxes that stays quiet.”