Lone Star Courtship

“Forgive me, I’m not dressed for company,” he explained.

She waved away his concern, clearly amused by his modesty.

“It’s my fault for showing up at this unearthly hour.” She held a brown sack aloft. “But I think you’ll be glad I did.”

A mouthwatering aroma wafted across the short distance.

Mmm…English fish and chips! He imagined it…deep-fried, crispy batter drizzled with tart malt vinegar, dipped in creamy tartar sauce. The enticing thought made his spirit ache for the home eight thousand kilometers away. His stomach grumbled for food.

“Now that I think of it, I am a bit peckish. Why don’t you let yourself into the sitting room and I’ll be right out?”

He left the door standing open and slipped into the bedroom. When he returned with the hotel’s signature pink robe belted securely, she was sitting at the small table. The large paper sack had been torn open at the seams and flattened as if a table topper to protect the polished surface.

The woman was thoughtful. Something he’d become unaccustomed to.

As he settled into a chair with the table separating them, she filled two paper plates and chatted as though her appearance at his door was most natural.

“Thanks for letting me come up and share my dinner with you.”

“It’s not as if you gave me a choice.”

She cast her eyes downward in a look of contrition he didn’t buy for a moment.

“Would you have turned me down if I’d called to ask?”

“Probably…” He smiled when her head popped up at the answer she clearly was not expecting. “…not,” he finished.

Satisfied with the caveat, she continued.

“Late-night comfort food is meant to be shared. It’s a Hardy family tradition. Actually, it’s more of a weakness. Anyway, my condo is on the other side of the causeway, too far for Captain Jack’s to deliver. But the Galvez is smack in the middle of their zone, so here I am.” She halved a still-steaming filet and dragged it through the puddle of ketchup on her plate.

She closed her eyes to appreciate the taste, giving him the perfect opportunity to admire her smooth complexion and dancing curls. Where he’d ended the day as limp and wrinkled as an empty sausage casing, she was every bit as appealing as she’d been during their meeting in her office hours before. Then he recalled her attire at their introduction and realized this vision of perfection before him was only one perspective on Miss Hardy.

How many more were there?

“Ah, so this isn’t concern for my well-being, after all,” he observed.

Her gaze met his. He popped a vinegar-soaked chunk of cod in his mouth and waited.

“Sure it is. Partly,” she admitted, and then busied herself arranging a pile of chips. “I could have gone the other way and picked up fried chicken but eating alone is no fun. For either of us. And as long as you’re here anyway, I thought you could tell me all about London. I may have business to conduct there soon and I could use some expert guidance.”

“You’re asking a barrister for free advice?”

He couldn’t hold back the smile. She responded with innocent, wide eyes.

“Not entirely free. I paid for lunch and dinner, didn’t I?”

“True. Very true. And all selections have been enjoyable, so I suppose I do owe you. Why don’t you e-mail your questions to me and I will answer in a day or two when I have some quiet time.”

“Quiet time?” She cocked one brow. “Between me and the Cowboy Cartel you’re gonna experience America Texas-style for a few days and there’s nothing quiet about that. With luck you can have quiet when you’re back home this time next week.” She nodded and popped a fat chip into her mouth. The set of her chin said she expected no further argument.

So, she intends to have me under surveillance until she can get me out of town, does she?

Keeping her enemies close seemed to be more than a Zen Post-it for Casey. Well, two could embrace that philosophy.

And it didn’t hurt that this woman was the prettiest assignment he’d had for a long time.

Chapter Four

At 4:00 a.m. the lobby of the hotel was hushed. Only the squeaking of Barrett’s rubber soles against the granite floor broke the silence.

“Good morning, sir.” The concierge spoke softly.

“May I offer you some coffee?”

“Thank you, no. I consumed an entire pot in my suite hours ago.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Actually, I slept quite comfortably even considering the amount of fried food I ingested yesterday. My body clock is still adjusting to the time difference so I’ve been wide-awake and working for hours.”

“There you are, Westbrook!” a male voice boomed. Doc Moseley stood in the hotel’s grand entrance, sporting a Cowboy Cartel cap, his boots planted wide as he waved Barrett over.

“Let’s get a move on before the wind kicks up any more. The marina’s gassin’ up the Albemarle right now and the bay’s gonna be rougher than a cob pretty soon.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to reschedule?”

“Mercy, no! As long as the good Lord provides a new sunrise I’ll always pick the worst weather for fishin’ over the best weather for workin’!”

Barrett stepped into the predawn darkness and basked in the ocean breeze that whipped his hair. Although fishing would never be his first choice, he had to agree with Doc’s assessment. The majesty of the open sea had never failed to produce an intimate connection with the Heavenly Father. Childhood holidays at the seaside with teeth chattering and a body prickled with gooseflesh were the fondest of all his memories.

Just as he reached the cab of the enormous red truck with the interlocking “C” logo on the door, the darkened window slid down to reveal the passengers in the backseat.

“Good morning, Counselor,” Casey chirped, more cheerfully than she felt.

Barrett’s dark brows drew together a bit. The rest of his face remained impassive, seemingly not surprised to see her.

“Ah, so it is.”

“Casey, scoot over toward George to make room for our boy here,” Doc instructed before climbing into the cab and slamming the door, giving them no choice aside from compliance.

Manny twisted from his position behind the wheel. “G’mornin’, son,” he offered.

George followed suit with a similar greeting and handed Barrett the custom headgear they all wore. “It’s nice to have you young folks join us.”

“The pleasure is mine, sir,” Barrett answered as he took the cap and tugged it on. “It was kind of you to include me.”

“Yes, thanks for letting me tag along, too,” Casey added.