Amara had just finished filling in Finn about what she’d learned at the stockyards.Annoyingly, Bree was still there, occupying the same seat at the table.Although Finn’s coffee was empty, and he’d moved on to water, the food was gone, the table clear of crumbs, and Finn’s maps were spread out, as if he’d been in discussions with Bree.
What did she miss?
‘Go on, Constable.What else.’
‘Brodie heard someone say the Ironbark Ball was going to be a smugglers’ meet-and-greet.’
‘That’s what we heard too, Duchess,’ said Stone, strolling through the open door with Craig.
‘What did you two learn?’Finn asked the men, as they dragged out their chairs, and dropped their hats, brim down, onto the spare chairs.
‘We checked out a few roadhouses and spoke to a few truckies,’ said Craig.‘They did drop—’
‘Slyly,’ said Stone with a wink.
‘—that the ball was going to be some sort of meet and greet.’
‘A stockmen’s meet and greet.Isn’t that what you said, Duchess?Rustic charm, dusty denim, and a few questionable cologne choices?’Stone’s grin was all bait.
She tried not to bite—but of course he’d twist her words just for the fun of it.‘Asmugglers’meet and greet, Stone.You know—criminals?But thanks for playing deaf and dumb for the audience.Try listening next time instead of rehearsing for your cowboy comedy set.’
You’d think Stone would get mad, but he was just like Porter, always up for the schoolyard taunts and foolish jibes, that had him grinning at her.‘I think hanging out with Porter is rubbing off on you, Duchess.’
If he dared to pat her head like a kid, she’d wallop him one.
‘What Stone is saying is that the Ironbark Ball is the meet and greet for everyone within the industry,’ explained Craig, the office peacekeeper.‘Are you going, Bree?’
‘We have a table for the Riggs brothers and their entourage.You?’
Craig’s grin ripped wide.‘I don’t get enough chances to see my wife all dressed up, so of course I’m looking forward to it.Stone and Romy are on the same table as us.’
‘Yep.I’m brushing up the Armani for the occasion.’Stone flicked imaginary lint from his shoulder like he was centre stage at Fashion Week.
‘You?In a suit?’Amara arched a brow.‘I had to buy you a clean shirt just to meet the commissioner—and even then, you struggled with the buttons like a toddler learning to tie his shoelaces.’
Stone grinned.‘You never asked if I owned a suit, Duchess.You just assumed I’d show up in my crocodile boots and charm.’
She rolled her eyes at the loud, grinning excuse of a helicopter-flying rash.The cretin was impossible.Loud, smug, and somehow still loveable, and as persistent and hard to get rid of as fungus.
‘Are you going, Amara?’Craig asked.
‘No.’Hmph, it hadn’t even been on her radar, because she’d been so consumed by her job, moving houses, and settling down a horse that wasn’t hers anymore.All she had was her job, and her need to do it properly.
‘You should,’ said Bree.
As if it was Bree’s business what Amara did.
‘Finn, are you going?’Bree asked.
‘I hadn’t planned on it, but it looks like I’ll be dragging out my suit from one of the boxes.’Finn then nodded at Amara.‘Constable, find yourself a date—you’re going, too.Because I doubt you’ll want to be seen with me as your date.’
‘Ooh, wouldn’tthatstir up the crowds.’Bree sounded far too pleased, like a gossip queen stirring sugar into someone else’s drama.‘It’d be positively scandalous.You shouldabsolutelydo it.Just for the reaction.I’ll take photos.Heck, I’ll sell tickets.’
Amara wasn’t sure if Bree was joking, daring them on, or preparing blackmail material for later.
Possibly all three.
But it’d be her nightmare activated it if happened.
