grinning. A made-to-order vacation with only four classes a week—he’d either learn to relax or go crazy trying. He grabbed his phone and called Snake again. The man still didn’t answer. Scott left another message, much more forceful than his polite one an hour earlier.
Bored, he scrolled down his short list of names. Couldn’t call Belinda who was taking some well-deserved time off. It was too late in England to call his dad. Snake wasn’t responding. His finger lingered over the latest addition.
Megan, his beautiful and intriguing savior who made jewelry, boldly crawled under cars and liked horse racing. Maybe he should text her that the local police might call for a statement. Yeah, that was definitely appropriate.
Thanks again . He pressed the keys quickly, before he could change his mind. Police might call .
Five minutes later, his phone chirped and Megan Spence’s name appeared on the display. They already did. How’s car ?
He quickly texted back with fingers clumsier than usual. He hoped she’d wait. Works fine. How’s jewelry biz ?
Good. You do massages ?
He paused. Odd question but promising, very promising. Anticipation swept him at the memory of those elegant legs, encased in tight jeans, the cotton shirt that couldn’t quite hide her curves. He’d always loved a ranch girl. If she wanted a massage, Christ, yes, he did massages.
Sure. See you Apr 30, SA paddock, race one ?
Ok, she texted . Apr 30 .
He checked his calendar. Nine weeks. It couldn’t come fast enough. He was looking forward to getting to know Megan. And strangely enough, his headache had disappeared.
He stacked his course notes, no longer cursing the idiots who’d forced him off the road. Instead he pictured Megan’s elegant profile, that smile with the hint of reserve, the endearing piece of hay stuck in her gleaming braid of chestnut hair. A woman who wore jeans like she was born in them. Someone who preferred to go to the track instead of a tedious restaurant. Hell, she was his dream girl.
Buzz . He grabbed his phone, hoping it was her, but the display showed Snake. Finally. He’d left five messages.
He answered, slightly aggrieved. “What’s happening with the Dexter surveillance?”
“Nothing yet, boss. It’s only been six hours.” Snake’s voice rumbled with amusement. “You lonely? Maybe finding people slow to answer your calls?”
Scott stalked into the kitchen, his good mood vanishing. He was already bored. “I need to know what’s going on,” he snapped. “Why don’t you answer your damn phone?”
“Oh, I will…now.” Snake laughed. “Didn’t expect a massage expert to be calling me, that’s all.”
Scott groaned in sudden comprehension. Belinda had fixed him up with one of the office phones and the company had many public facades, depending on their investigation. He should have been alerted by her smile when she handed him the new phone. “What’s my display name?” He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting.
“Scottie’s Massage Services.”
“Oh, God.” He groaned, remembering Megan’s massage question. To compensate, he bit off a list of rapid-fire instructions. However, they didn’t subdue Snake in the least, and the man was still chuckling when Scott cut the connection.
CHAPTER SIX
Megan filled her bucket with a spray of bubbling water, surprised there wasn’t a lineup by the hose. The barn aisle was almost empty. Feeding started at six, followed by breakfast and muck out. First class at eight. Students usually trailed back from the cafeteria, still yawning, not keen to cram into a stuffy classroom.
Today though, even Tami whipped through her chores, monopolizing the two best wheelbarrows, while the gray-haired lady three stalls down had been in such a rush she’d almost poked Megan’s eye with her pitchfork.
“What’s the hurry today, Tami?” Megan called, pausing to give Jake, one of the two horses she’d been assigned, an affectionate pat. He tilted
Bored, he scrolled down his short list of names. Couldn’t call Belinda who was taking some well-deserved time off. It was too late in England to call his dad. Snake wasn’t responding. His finger lingered over the latest addition.
Megan, his beautiful and intriguing savior who made jewelry, boldly crawled under cars and liked horse racing. Maybe he should text her that the local police might call for a statement. Yeah, that was definitely appropriate.
Thanks again . He pressed the keys quickly, before he could change his mind. Police might call .
Five minutes later, his phone chirped and Megan Spence’s name appeared on the display. They already did. How’s car ?
He quickly texted back with fingers clumsier than usual. He hoped she’d wait. Works fine. How’s jewelry biz ?
Good. You do massages ?
He paused. Odd question but promising, very promising. Anticipation swept him at the memory of those elegant legs, encased in tight jeans, the cotton shirt that couldn’t quite hide her curves. He’d always loved a ranch girl. If she wanted a massage, Christ, yes, he did massages.
Sure. See you Apr 30, SA paddock, race one ?
Ok, she texted . Apr 30 .
He checked his calendar. Nine weeks. It couldn’t come fast enough. He was looking forward to getting to know Megan. And strangely enough, his headache had disappeared.
He stacked his course notes, no longer cursing the idiots who’d forced him off the road. Instead he pictured Megan’s elegant profile, that smile with the hint of reserve, the endearing piece of hay stuck in her gleaming braid of chestnut hair. A woman who wore jeans like she was born in them. Someone who preferred to go to the track instead of a tedious restaurant. Hell, she was his dream girl.
Buzz . He grabbed his phone, hoping it was her, but the display showed Snake. Finally. He’d left five messages.
He answered, slightly aggrieved. “What’s happening with the Dexter surveillance?”
“Nothing yet, boss. It’s only been six hours.” Snake’s voice rumbled with amusement. “You lonely? Maybe finding people slow to answer your calls?”
Scott stalked into the kitchen, his good mood vanishing. He was already bored. “I need to know what’s going on,” he snapped. “Why don’t you answer your damn phone?”
“Oh, I will…now.” Snake laughed. “Didn’t expect a massage expert to be calling me, that’s all.”
Scott groaned in sudden comprehension. Belinda had fixed him up with one of the office phones and the company had many public facades, depending on their investigation. He should have been alerted by her smile when she handed him the new phone. “What’s my display name?” He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting.
“Scottie’s Massage Services.”
“Oh, God.” He groaned, remembering Megan’s massage question. To compensate, he bit off a list of rapid-fire instructions. However, they didn’t subdue Snake in the least, and the man was still chuckling when Scott cut the connection.
CHAPTER SIX
Megan filled her bucket with a spray of bubbling water, surprised there wasn’t a lineup by the hose. The barn aisle was almost empty. Feeding started at six, followed by breakfast and muck out. First class at eight. Students usually trailed back from the cafeteria, still yawning, not keen to cram into a stuffy classroom.
Today though, even Tami whipped through her chores, monopolizing the two best wheelbarrows, while the gray-haired lady three stalls down had been in such a rush she’d almost poked Megan’s eye with her pitchfork.
“What’s the hurry today, Tami?” Megan called, pausing to give Jake, one of the two horses she’d been assigned, an affectionate pat. He tilted
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