Special Ops Bodyguard. Beth Cornelison
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eaten dinner and headed to bed by now. Mornings come early in a ranch town, which means we’re open at 4:00 a.m. to serve breakfast.”
He lowered his brow and pressed his mouth in a firm line as if digesting this information.
“Well, then I should let you finish your work.” He shoveled another couple of bites of pie in his mouth and gave her a nod as he rose from his stool.
“Don’t rush off on my account. You can finish your pie, at least, then … maybe walk me to my car?”
He reached in his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills. “I’d be glad to walk you to your car, but … I wouldn’t have thought a woman had to worry about being accosted in a small town like this.”
Kate took off her apron and stashed it behind the counter. The infernal heat of her blush prickled her scalp again, as she gave him a bashful grin. “Well, yes … the town is quite safe, usually.”
He tipped his head and arched an eyebrow. “Then … are you flirting with me, Miss Rogers?”
Her heart beat triple-time under his narrow-eyed scrutiny. “Well, if you have to ask, I’m obviously not doing it right.”
He slid his check and payment across the counter to her. His expression lightened, and a small dimple appeared in his cheek. “On the contrary, I like your style.”
Even that hint of a smile sent her pulse racing. And his dimple … dear Lord, that dimple softened the hard edge to him and made her weak in the knees.
Easy, girl. The man is only passing through town. Kate gathered her purse and pulled out her keys to lock up the diner, warning herself not to get any crazy ideas about Gage Prescott, security specialist. She might not know much about men, but she knew enough to be certain Gage was not the sort to settle down in a small town in the middle of Nowhere, Montana.
When Senator Kelley left town, so would his hunky bodyguard.
As Gage drove back through the front gate of the Bar Lazy K, he found his mind drifting to Kate’s sunny smile and her endearing tendency to blush at the slightest provocation. He gave his head a firm shake and redirected his thoughts to his client and the reasons he’d been hired.
He drove past the sprawling main house and pulled the truck up to the ranch hands’ bunkhouse. In light of Kate’s comment about ranchers heading to bed early, Gage found the amount of activity on the ranch intriguing. A large number of men still milled about outside the bunkhouse, including several men working near the stables. Gage knew almost nothing about ranching, but even to him this amount of activity after dark seemed unusual.
As he climbed out of the truck, the ranch manager, an older Native American man named Rusty Moore, approached him with a smile, three large dogs circling his legs, barking. “Easy, Ace. He’s a friend. Evening, Mr. Prescott. A successful trip?”
Gage tossed the keys back to Rusty. “Somewhat. Thanks again for the use of the truck.”
“I’d say anytime, but the truth is this truck and most of the other vehicles will be tied up for the next several days. We leave early in the morning.” Rusty reached down to give one of the dogs a good scratch behind the ear. “You’ll guard the place while we’re gone, won’t ya, Ace? Good boy.”
The dog’s slow steps and gray muzzle told Gage the mutt was up in years, while the two others had the energy of youth. A black dog with a white spot on its head greeted Gage with a wiggle of excitement, planting his front paws on Gage’s hip to nuzzle his hand.
“Domino! Get down!” Rusty fussed. “Sorry about that. Border collies are great for herding, but what they have in ranching skills, ours lack in manners.”
Gage ruffled Domino’s furry head. “I don’t mind. I like dogs.” He cast his gaze around the commotion and honed in on Rusty’s earlier comment. “Why is everyone leaving tomorrow?”
The ranch manager nodded. “The annual roundup. We’ll drive or ride into the hills and find all the cattle, load ‘em up and bring them back to be sorted and sent to market. It’s a big job so most everyone goes.”
Gage rubbed his chin, deciding how the absence of all the ranch hands might affect his ability to protect the senator. Having the hands around was tantamount to having a fleet of guards watching for unusual activity on the property. In their absence, Gage and Bart would have a vast amount of land and several outbuildings to keep secure. “The stable and barn are monitored with security cameras, right?”
Rusty nodded. “All of the buildings are.”
“But is anyone monitoring the camera feed or is the video only used to identify a trespasser when there’s a problem?”
Rusty scoffed a laughed. “Mr. Cole doesn’t have the manpower to have someone watching the camera feed around the clock. Problems are rare. Having this many hands around is security enough most days.”
“Most days. But as you said, everyone is heading out tomorrow.”
Rusty frowned. “Are you expecting a problem?”
Gage shrugged. “Hard to say. I wouldn’t be here if trouble wasn’t a possibility, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t familiarize myself with all the security measures in place.”
Rusty slid his fingers into the front pockets of his dusty jeans. “Cole should be up at the house by now. He can brief you on how the security system works.”
Gage jerked a nod. “Thanks.” He turned to head toward the main house then paused as Domino scampered across the yard in front of him. He shouldn’t underestimate the value of the dogs as a warning system in the event of trespassers. “Mr. Moore?”
Rusty turned.
“What are the other dogs’ names?”
The manager smiled and pointed to the older black dog with the gray muzzle. “That there is Ace. He’s fifteen years young and the daddy of these other two. He sticks pretty close to home, seeing as how he’s blind now.” He pointed to the third dog, more white than the other two. “That’s Mitzy, and you already met Domino. The younger two will go with us on roundup, so they won’t be in your hair.”
“I was actually thinking the dogs would help alert us in case of a break-in.”
“Ordinarily they would, but we need ‘em to work this week, herding cattle. But ol’ Ace, even without his sight, he’s still a pretty good guard dog. His hearing and sense of smell are still top-notch. He’ll bark if he thinks there’s a stranger we need to be alerted to.”
Gage gave the old dog a considering scrutiny. “All right, Ace. You’re my go-to guy out here. Got it?”
Hearing his name, Ace wobbled closer, tail wagging, and Gage let him sniff his hand before stroking the dog’s head. Ace followed Gage as he crossed the dusty yard to the main house, a massive, multilevel home made of river rock and natural timber.
As he neared the main entrance, Cole’s housekeeper, who’d been introduced to him earlier as Hannah Brown, appeared in the door. “There you are! I’ve had your dinner ready for an hour. Where have you been, mister?”
Gage blinked, startled by her scolding tone. He opened his mouth to tell the brusque older woman he’d eaten at Ira’s Diner when he realized her gaze was on Ace rather than him.
“Come on, boy.” She clicked her tongue and hitched her head toward the kitchen, confirming that her chastisements were for the dog. When she lifted her chin and directed an inquisitive look at Gage, he nodded a greeting. “Evening, Mr. Prescott. Can I get you anything from the kitchen before I head to bed?”
“No, ma’am. I’ve had dinner. If I need anything later, I’ll get it for myself.”
“No, you won’t,” she said, straightening her back and raising her head so that she appeared taller than her diminutive five-foot-two height. Her stern expression brooked no resistance.