Arden rolled her eyes and fixed her gaze on her mug. “See? Told you, I’m crazy too.”
Kyle shook his head. “No way. That’s a great story. I get why you keep it. It’s worth keeping.”
She looked up at him through her lashes, twin lakes behind a row of trees. “Most strays are.”
Damn. How bad would it be to grab her now and pull her onto his lap? Show her just how sexy he thought she was, that it didn’t matter what she wore—her beauty shone through with every word and action.
Too late—she stood up and walked to the kitchen with her mug. “I’m turning in early tonight. Feel free to stay up as long as you’d like. I’ll head out to Lyons on the snowmobile around ten. Like I said, you’re welcome to join me.”
Kyle stood and carried his mug to the kitchen. He placed it in the sink next to hers. She looked up at him and he realized for the first time how short she was. Her personality made her seem bigger. “And like I said, I’d love to go with you. Just in case Rick the Dick decides to follow you to town, of course,” he added.
She turned serious. “Thank you for saving me tonight.”
“All in a day’s work.”
She grinned. “That’s right. SEALs save the day, don’t they?”
He shrugged. “It’s in the job description.”
And then there it was—that original sadness crept back into her eyes. Before he could ask, she mumbled a good night, scooted past him, and headed down the hall to her bedroom.
And Camo followed.
Wow. Kyle felt both proud that his dog was still on the job, and sad that his dog had just basically chosen Arden over him.Shit, what am I, twelve?And hell, the woman had thrown herself on Camo to protect him and the dog knew it. No denying, Kyle probably would have followed her down the hall too if she’d invited him. Ratty robe or no, Arden was the sexiest woman he’d ever met. And that was a big problem.
Kyle took some deep breaths and pulled out his phone. He texted his co-worker Nashville as he walked back to the couch.
You up?
Nash replied immediately:
It’s 7PM why would I be in bed?
Oh, yeah, duh. Not only was it freakin’ early, but California was an hour behind Colorado. The day just felt long, and the thinner mountain air must be making him tired.
Right sorry different time zone. You got a minute?
Kyle’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. “Nash,” he answered.
“Kyle, how y’all doing?” Was there the slightest hesitation in that Southern drawl? Hard to tell—Nash talked so damn slowly sometimes. Yeah, all he needed was word getting around Watchdog that old Kyle had gone off the rails, was fragile, wasbroken.
“Great. Couldn’t be better. Hey, can you do me a favor?”
“Name it, brother.”
“I need some intel on a couple guys. But I don’t have a lot for you to go on. Just names, basically.”
“Gimme what you got.”
First name is Rick or Richard Muir. Guy’s in his fifties, maybe late forties. Caucasian, short dark hair, brown eyes, medium build, six-foot. He’s some sort of land developer or broker in Colorado. He’s got a place near where I’m staying.” Kyle gave Nash the address. “I want to know everything about him—who he represents, what he does, his bank accounts, his favorite fucking color.”
“Hoo-whee, sounds like a friend of yours.”
“Yeah, the kind I want to bury.”
“Copy that. What’s the second name? Anotherfriend?”
“No, not like Rick the Dick. Somebody I need to contact.” Kyle pushed down the feeling of betrayal threatening to claw up from his bowels. “Name’s Sean Volker. He’s on the teams. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. He’s—” Kyle looked around, realizing he hadn’t seen a single photograph of a man who could have been Arden’s brother. “He’s Caucasian. Maybe blond? Light-colored eyes?”
