Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Cade’s usual stillness has shifted into the kind of predatory focus that used to make enemy scouts regret moving first.
Boone’s leaning forward, forearms braced on the table, his interest as obvious as a neon sign.
Three identical faces turned toward the same woman. Three identical reactions under different masks.
It triggers a silent alarm.
We notice women. We’re men, not monks.
Boone flirts as easily as he breathes. Cade looks but rarely acts on it. I keep my attention where it belongs and my hands to myself, unless otherwise invited.
We don’t usually respond with the same intensity to the same woman.
CHAPTER 2
RHETT
She stops when she reaches our table.
Her eyes are hazel. Green at first, then brown with flecks of gold when the light catches them. Her gaze is intelligent and direct.
“Wilder brothers?” There’s a soft rasp to her voice that slides under my skin before I can stop it.
“You found us.” Boone’s smile broadens naturally. The bastard.
Her eyes go to him, then Cade, then me, and her expression remains serious. She’s not giggly or looking at us like a roadside attraction, and I like that more than I should.
“I’m Wren Hollis.” She pulls out a badge wallet from the inside pocket of her jacket and opens it with efficient fingers. “Federal wildlife biologist. U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. I’ve been told you know the backcountry passes better than anyone.”
I get to my feet only half a second before my brothers, and our coordinated movement is enough to make Wren Hollis’s eyebrows lift with something that might be faint amusement.
“Rhett Wilder.” I hold out my hand.
Her grip is warm and firm, and I hold it a beat too long. Her gaze lifts from our joined hands to my eyes, and the look she gives me says she noticed.
Then she releases me, and I let her. Barely.
“This is Cade.” I nod to my left. “And Boone.”
Cade offers his hand, and his expression closes down the way it does when he’s absorbing too much information too fast. His eyes drop to her boots, then to her bag, where the edge of a topo map protrudes.
“Ma’am,” he says.
Her mouth curves, and I notice it too much. “Wren is fine.”
Boone steps in with his easy grin. “Boone Wilder.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He wraps his hand around hers, but for once, doesn’t immediately turn the charm up to blinding. He looks at her a little more carefully than usual. “Can we buy you a drink, Wren Hollis with the federal badge?”
She tucks it away. “No, thank you. I need guides, not whiskey.”
Boone’s grin deepens. “Shame. We’re good at both.”
“Guides first.” I shoot him a look, but his expression remains innocent. It hasn’t fooled me once in thirty-four years.
Boone pulls out the extra chair for her, and she sits, setting her bag at her feet. I sit across from her, and my brothers return to their seats.
The three of us are used to being an imposing presence, usually unintentionally, but huddled around the small table with us, Wren doesn’t flinch.
Interesting woman.
“What brings you up here?” I get the question out before she removes her jacket, the movement pulling her dark shirt tight over the curve of her breasts. I drag my eyes back to her face.
She reaches into her bag and brings out a stack of papers, a notebook, and the map. “I’m here to investigate wildlife displacement, possible illegal hunting activity, and some irregular movement patterns along the corridors north of here. My office received enough reports to justify sending someone out.”
“Reports from who?” Cade asks.
“Trail cameras, a seasonal ranger, a couple of hikers, and a rancher who knows the elk movement better than most biologists I’ve met.”
Cade goes very still, and Wren notices. “You know the area?” she asks.
“We know most of it,” I say.
“That’s what I was told.”
“Who told you?”
Wren tucks a strand of long hair behind her ear, and I’m momentarily distracted again. “A waitress at the restaurant in town mentioned you first. A regional law enforcement officer backed up the referral. Said if I needed to get into rough country without wasting my time, you were the ones to hire.”
Boone leans back, his grin ever-present. “Our reputation remains spotless.”
Cade makes a sound that isn’t agreement.
Wren looks between them, and this time, the amusement in her eyes is clear.
I like her more by the minute.
“What will your investigation involve?” I ask.
“I need to check camera positioning, verify reported movement patterns, and document anything that suggests illegal take. I also want to get in and out without becoming a liability.”
Boone rests his forearms on the table. “Have you spent time in this elevation?”
“Enough to know it will humble me if I’m careless.” She opens her notebook. “I grew up in the western part of the state, and I’ve done fieldwork in rough country, though not these specific passes.”
A lot of people think enthusiasm will carry them through challenging terrain, but there’s no overconfidence in Wren’s answer. No false modesty, either.