He keys a code. We pass through a doorway into a maze of cinderblock rooms like something out of a CIA training video.
Not so much a ranch—more like a compound.
The second story is open air, metal gangways crisscrossing above, a solid roof overhead to keep out the weather. It should be intimidating. Instead, the quiet is safety, order.
Maverick strides ahead, his body rather than his words telling me to follow. We meet in a sparsely furnished office with light knotty pine-lined walls and aviation-inspired images on the walls. Grayson takes a seat behind a large wooden desk as the men gather chairs, offering me one in the middle.
A black clock ticks on the wall, ten fifty-three p.m. My concert should be wrapping up right about now. Instead, I’m surrounded by dangerous-looking men. Despite the late hour, dry heat presses against my flesh as Grayson makes a phone call.
“We’re at the Ranch.”
Four words, and he ends the call. What is it with these guys? It’s like they’re hellbent on taking “strong and silent” to a whole new level.
I swallow hard, suddenly second-guessing every part of this plan. I glance toward Maverick, the awkward car ride still front and center. Not sure if I can deal with that again.
But Edwin’s threats, his expression, compel me to wait this out. I’ve finally bought myself a respite. A little peace. A moment of reflection. I can’t turn back now.
“My sister and pipsqueak are on the way. Hope you’re ready to make a little girl’s dream come true,” Grayson says, leaning back in his chair.
“Part of the job,” I parrot back, mimicking Maverick. If he notices, he doesn’t give it away. But then again, the man’s got a poker face like no other.
I lick my bottom lip, hands twisting in my lap. “Am I going to stay here?” My voice comes out like a squeak, though I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.
“It’s no Hyatt,” the green-eyed man cuts in, comments few but sharp.
“Having second thoughts, Ms. Love?” Grayson asks.
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “No, it’s just…”
The security lead’s eyebrows raise, and he leans forward.
My head bobs around the room, words evading me. “It’s just so quiet here.” I pause, crickets and katydids a deafening choir despite my words. But that’s not what I’m talking about.
“I get it,” the cowboy says, removing his Stetson, and setting it on the desk. “But you said you wanted a break. We can give that to you … temporarily.”
It’s what I asked for—space, silence—but now that I have it, I don’t know what to do with it.
Outside, a truck engine grows louder, then it cuts.
“We’ll do a debrief tomorrow morning. Any questions?” He eyes the silent room.
Two female voices echo through the compound. A moment later, they fill Grayson’s office, and the energy in the room shifts. Thank goodness.
A wide-eyed preteen with dirty blonde hair and big brown eyes stands awestruck, unmoving, unblinking. At her elbow is a plump woman with chestnut-colored locks, cheeks flushed, eyes dancing.
“Mia Love.” The girl says it like she’s seeing a ghost or maybe a genie freshly sprung from a lamp.
I rise, clasping my hands together and smiling warmly. “And you must be Josie. I’ve heard so much about you from your dad.”
Her eyes skim past me to Grayson, and warmth crowds my chest. Suddenly, she breaks into a song and dance—Hello, Sunflower. I join in until we both laugh.
“Hey, you’re not half bad. Ever thought about heading out on the road as one of the Lovettes?” I tease, referring to my backup dancers.
“Oh,” Josie exclaims, gaze locking on her dad.
“No way,” he grumbles, rising and circling the desk to take the place next to his daughter, ruffling her hair.
Those two words, the affectionate way they interact, do something to me. I could never imagine my dad treating me like this … or caring enough to say no when it matters.
