Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“We need to head out.” Rhett gives me a long look. It’s heavy, filled with concern and what looks an awful lot like possession.
Then he and Cade are gone, leaving me alone with Boone, who turns his smile on me. It’s meant to be a harmless smile, but it feels anything but.
Later, during the ride into town, Boone entertains me with tales about trips they’ve guided, and his stories are so engaging I almost forget about the illegal activity happening in the mountains at night.
When we roll down the main street, I scan the businesses’ signs and think about where I want to go first. “Where’s your errand?” I ask Boone.
“Near wherever you’re going to be.”
“How convenient.”
“Very.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not even going to try to pretend well?”
Boone flattens a hand on his chest as if he’s offended. “Darlin’, you wound me. I always pretend well.”
He makes everything sound like flirtation, but now I notice what’s underneath. He’s charm layered over solid steel.
“I want to go to the general store, but first, I’m going to get a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll walk you to the restaurant.”
I frown. “I’m not used to being escorted everywhere.”
“I know.” His voice is softer and more serious than I expect, and his expression has lost its flirtation. “I’m not handling you. I’m just your backup.”
Even though he’s not trying to charm me at the moment, he still has that effect on me.
Moon Ridge is busy for a small town, with vehicles pulling in and out of parking spaces, a man loading feed sacks into his truck, and another man in a cowboy hat carrying a box out of the bakery.
Boone parks near the restaurant and hurries around to open my door before I can get it.
Walking up the street, we pass an older man in a plaid shirt kneeling in front of a bench, working with a wrench.
There’s an attractive woman with silver hair standing over him like she’s his supervisor. “No, Ed, I’m telling you, it needs to angle toward the corner. People don’t want to sit facing a plain wall.”
The man stops what he’s doing and looks up at her. “Mae, for the love of all that’s holy, it’s a bench, not a surveillance post.”
The woman, who looks quite stylish in a belted teal jacket, sniffs. “It can be both.”
“It’s not going to be both.”
“You say that now, but when it’s angled and becomes people’s favorite place to sit, you’ll thank me.”
The man shakes his head like he’s frustrated, but the expression on his face says otherwise. “I’ve known you for forty years. I have never once thanked you for supervising.”
“That’s because you’re stubborn.”
“That’s because you’re bossy.”
Boone, who’s been watching all this with an amused expression, steps up to the pair. “Good morning, Ms. Whitaker. Good morning, Ed.”
He introduces me to them with polite manners and a big dose of his usual charm. Boone only tells them my name, but the woman, Mae, immediately says, “You’re the wildlife biologist.”
Boone leans closer to me like he’s telling me a secret, but he speaks loudly enough for the older couple to hear. “While you’re taking elk inventory, people in town are busy doing their own surveys, but they’re tracking new Moon Ridge arrivals.”
Mae arches a brow. “The town is safer that way, Boone Wilder.”
Her mention of safety sends a chill through me. Townspeople might be gossiping about strangers, but I doubt they have any idea what’s going on in the mountains while they sleep.
“You installing a new bench for the town, Ed?” Boone asks the man. “I thought you were retired.”
Ed shrugs. “So did I.”
“I’m going to get coffee while you run your errand,” I tell Boone. I tell Mae and Ed it was nice to meet them, and I hurry on toward the restaurant before they can ask me questions about my work that may require me to lie.
“I’ll be close,” Boone says.
“I assumed.”
When I look back right before I reach the door, Boone is watching me. Standing with his hands in his pockets, he’s the picture of casual masculine ease, and his easy grin almost hides the fact that he’s scanning the street with well-trained instincts.
CHAPTER 16
WREN
A bell over the door jingles as I step into the restaurant, triggering the locals seated inside to all look up at me for a beat before they return to their food or conversations. It’s nearly noon, and about half of the booths and tables are occupied.
I take a small table near the front and am almost immediately greeted by a waitress. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
She slides a menu onto the table. “I’ll be back to take your order.”
I wasn’t planning on eating, but tempting smells coming from the kitchen make me rethink my decision, so I order a grilled turkey sandwich when the waitress returns.
While I wait, I wrap my hands around the coffee mug and let myself breathe, and for a few minutes, I feel normal.