Page 67 of Her Remarkable Protector
I do, folding my hands in my lap as I wait.
“It’s the Stones,” he reveals.
My stomach tightens. “What? Did they find out where Oakley is?”
“No,” he says quickly. “No, nothing like that. They’re in custody.”
I blink. “Mira and Damon?”
“Yeah,” he confirms. “Bozeman PD Major Crimes finally managed to get them. But not for drugs or trafficking. They’re too smart to get caught on that.”
“Then what? Murdering their neighbor’s cat?”
“Close,” he scoffs. “Itismurder.”
“Shit,” I drawl.
He nods grimly. “Nothing ties it to the Circle’s operations. Neither of them is talking. Captain Freeman—my contact at Bozeman PD—thinks it was a crime of passion. Drugs were involved, but only on a personal-use scale. Most likely? Damon caught Mira with another man.”
“Oh,” I say, trying to process. “I guess that’s… good news?” I want to believe it, but it’s hard to shake the feeling that they won’t stay locked up for long.
“Hey,” Chase says, his hand brushing mine. “Let’s not dwell on it. I just wanted you to have the update, that’s all. A little peace of mind can’t hurt, right?”
I glance at him, arching a brow. “You’ve got something else on your mind?”
His grin slides into place. “I’ve got another surprise for you.”
I groan, but there’s no real bite to it. “You and your surprises. Should I be worried this time?”
“Come on, have I ever let you down?” His eyes glint with that maddening spark of his. “Trust me,” he adds, leaning in just enough to make me suspicious. “You’re going to love this one.”
“Okay,” I say, unable to hide my curiosity. “Show me.”
“We’re going out.”
I sigh, glancing down at my dress shirt. Not exactly California chic. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
He tilts his head, pretending to think before standing. “Well, those black Wranglers you just grabbed off the washing line—they look seriously hot on you. Actually,you’rehot in them.” His hands tug me up from my seat, and before I can react, they settle firmly on my ass.
“Really?” I ask, arching a brow. That was… unexpectedly uplifting.
“Really. Yeah.”
“And the top?”
“That red lumberjack,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up to squeeze my waist, “with the hem tied around.” His eyes dip briefly, making his point.
“Right. I’ll put them on then.”
“Good.”
I narrow my eyes. “And I’m not about to walk out and find you in one of your flawless suits, am I?”
“Absolutely not,” he convinces me.
“All right, now leave me in peace to beautify myself,” I say, reaching for my pocket mirror. My makeup stash is sparse, but I can still pull something together. Even in a cowgirl look, a touch of red lipstick won’t hurt—it might even give the whole outfit a little flair.
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