Chapter 10
Twenty-five minutes later, Moe knocked gently on the connecting door between his room and Breely’s.
Her soft, “Come in,” made his heart skip beats and his blood burn through his veins headed south.
He pushed the door wide and stepped into her room.
She stood in front of a full-length mirror, her back to him.
Breely wore a satiny, green sheath dress with narrow straps, balanced over her pale, lightly freckled shoulders.
The back scooped low, dangerously close to her buttocks.
Green silky satin clung to her curves, hugging her like a second skin from her breasts to her hips where the skirt flared out, falling softly past her knees.
On her feet, she wore shiny, silver strappy sandals with delicate heels.
Breely had swept her hair up in a loose, messy bun on top of her head, the thick curls wound several times around the elastic band, strands held in place with a few strategically placed bobby pins.
Facing the mirror, she frowned. With a rhinestone-studded comb in her hand, she held it over several locations on her head, shook her head and finally slid the comb in front of the bun, securing some loose strands and adding a bit of bling to already glorious hair.
She met his gaze in the mirror. “Will this do?”
“If by do, you mean it makes me want to rip that dress from your body, skip dinner and feast on you for the rest of the night…” he nodded, “it will do.” He reached out to place his hands on her hips and stopped before he touched her. “May I?”
“Mmm,” she moaned, her eyelids sinking halfway over her eyes. “Please.”
Moe rested his hands lightly at her waist. Unable to resist, he slid his fingers over her hips and behind her to cup her ass in his palms.
The dress was smooth and cool to the touch. No matter how chilly, it couldn’t tamp down the rising desire coursing through his veins.
Breely leaned her naked back against his crisp cotton, button-down shirt. “How long does it take to walk from our rooms to the dining hall?”
“Two minutes.” Moe checked his watch and grimaced. “We have exactly two minutes to get to the dining room. Stone wasn’t kidding about Cookie liking people to show up on time.” He held out his arm. “Are you up for a sprint?”
Breely waved a hand toward her feet. “In these shoes?”
“I guess not.” Moe shook his head. “Then we’d better get going and step out smartly.” He held out his arm.
Breely hooked her arm through his, and they left her room.
Moe set the pace, careful not to push this beautiful woman so fast that she slipped, slid or fell in an inglorious heap.
Ahead, he spotted Stone standing in the middle of the rest of his team.
Kyla and Chelsea stood to the side, their heads together, laughing about something one or the other had said.
All attention turned to Moe and Breely as they entered the dining room.
“I guess everyone turned out to meet the new client,” he murmured.
Breely’s hand tightened on his arm. He reached over and patted her reassuringly.
He should have known they’d be highly interested in meeting Breely Brantt, daughter of Robert Brantt.
Moe would rather have returned to their rooms and had Breely all to himself. He heard a low rumble from the vicinity of Breely’s belly. His stomach echoed the sound. Hunger won out.
“We should’ve eaten lunch at the Tumbleweed Tavern,” he said beneath his breath for only Breely to hear.
“Agreed,” she responded without losing the smile on her lips.
They joined the others standing near the long table reserved for them. Other guests sat at tables scattered around the large dining room. Some glanced up to see who’d entered and went back to eating the meal Cookie had prepared.
“Gang’s all here,” Stone sang out. “Everyone, you know our token PJ, Moe. The lovely young lady on his right is Breely Brantt. She’s chosen Brotherhood Protectors to provide the security and protection she needs until we or the authorities locate the men responsible for her near-kidnapping in Bozeman.
” He waved a hand toward Breely. “Please say hello to Ms. Brantt.”
As one, they said, “Hello, Ms. Brantt.
Breely’s cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Thank you. But, please, call me Breely.”
“Noted,” Stone said. “You know Moe. Let me introduce the other members of the Brotherhood Protectors Yellowstone team.” He nodded toward a man who stood taller than the rest with an auburn-haired woman beside him. “This super tall drink of whiskey is Benjamin ‘Bubba’—”
“Yates,” Breely finished. She held out her hand.
He engulfed her smaller one and gave it a firm but gentle shake. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Br—eely.” His cheeks turned a ruddy red. He turned to the woman beside him. “This is my fiancée, Chelsea.”
The pretty, auburn-haired woman shook Breely’s hand with both of hers. She stood at least half a foot taller than Breely, but her smile wasn’t the least intimidating, “Glad to meet you,” she said.
“Thank you. Are you the one who’s a wolf biologist?’ Breely hoped she’d remembered what Moe had told her.
Chelsea grinned. “I am. I work the packs in and around Yellowstone National Park.”
“How interesting. I understand the reintroduction of wolves to the ecosystem has helped to create a better balance for the plants and wildlife in the area.”
“We’re working through issues with local ranchers. The wolves don’t care if their meal is deer or beef. The ranchers do, and they tend to shoot the wolves.” Chelsea sighed. “It’s all a delicate balance. Speaking of which…it’s nice to have another female around this testosterone fest. Right, Kyla?”
The same height as Chelsea, Kyla’s lean, athletic body looked like she could take a full-grown man down with her hands. Yeah, she was tall and intimidating.
She took Breely’s hand in a very firm, almost painful, grip. “Breely,” she said with a curt nod.
“Kyla.”
“We like Moe,” the dark-haired woman stated, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t fuck with his head.”
The implied or else made Breely’s knees wobble. “You’re the assassin turned tech support.” Breely tightened her grip to equal the pressure Kyla was using.
“Don’t let Kyla scare you,” Chelsea said. “She’s retired from her work as an assassin. Now that she and Stone are a thing, she’s getting all soft and squishy.”
Kyla glared at Chelsea. “I’m not soft and squishy.”
Stone coughed, “Bullshit.”
“Look. I don’t go out and kill people with guns or knives. I know how to inflict more pain and never fire a bullet or wield a blade.”
“How do you manage that?” Breely asked. “Are your hands and feet registered as lethal weapons?”
“I guess they could be. But it’s not hands and feet I use to cut down my enemies.” She wiggled her fingertips and grinned, softening her features to an almost a squishy appearance. “I use my fingers.”
“Poke out a person’s eyeballs? Sever the jugular. Rip out a heart?”
Kyla’s brow twisted. She glanced over her shoulder at Stone. “She’s a bloodthirsty debutante.”
Breely’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a debutante.
That would infer I’ve been presented to wealthy social circles, attended a posh private school or gone to a cotillion.
I’ve done none of that.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, if you need a fence mended, a bull calf castrated or someone with small arms to shove them into a heifer’s hoo-hah to turn a breech calf…
” she jammed a thumb toward her chest, “I’m your girl.
I can’t dance, I’m socially awkward and I’ve never mastered smoky eyes.
I bought this dress online five years ago and never had a place to wear it until now.
And these gorgeous shoes are giving me a blister. ”
“Tell it, sister!” Chelsea gave her a high-five and a fist bump.
Kyla’s eyebrows rose into the hair falling over her forehead. “Damn, girl. Remind me not to piss you off. You’ve got wicked skills hiding under that slinky dress.”
“You know you don’t have to dress formally here,” Stone said. “All Cookie asks is that your jeans don’t have huge holes and you wear a shirt and shoes to the table.”
Breely laughed. “I should be able to follow those rules with my eyes closed.”
Bubba pointed to a red scar on his forehead. “I don’t recommend it. This place is a maze. With the lights out, it’s exponentially dark and dangerous. Especially for those of us who are vertically challenged by six-foot-tall doorframes.”
A man with brown hair and brown eyes elbowed his way past Bubba and held out his hand.
“Carter Manning.” When she started to take his hand, he pulled back, and his eyes narrowed.
“You did wash your hands after sticking it inside that heifer’s hoo-hah, didn’t you?
” He winked and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Another man with brown hair and piercing brown eyes stepped up. “Hunter Falcon.”
“You’re the Delta Force guy, right?” She shook his hand and looked around at the men. “Thank you for your service to our country.”
They nodded as one, all staring at her, expecting her to say something. These men had so much life experience, what could she add that would begin to sound interesting?
Not a damn thing. Silence stretched as Breely scrambled for something intelligent to say, her cheeks heating.
“Take your seats,” a booming voice called out, breaking the silence. “Dinner is served.”
Moe leaned close to Breely. “That would be Cookie.”
A short, stocky man with a shock of unruly white hair and bright blue eyes entered the dining room.
“That’s right. Make it quick before this food gets cold.” Behind him came an even shorter, wiry man with brown hair and brown eyes. “The second guy is Tinker, our master mechanic.”
Each man wore a white apron and carried a platter.
Cookie carried a large platter with a giant ham in the middle and garlic-roasted potatoes all around the base.
Tinker’s platter was filled with a medley of vegetables—broccoli, carrots, cauliflower and squash.
The men set the platters in the middle of the table and hurried back to the kitchen, returning quickly with baskets of dinner rolls, pitchers of tea and lemonade.