Page 19 of Summer with a Ranger

I just hoped tonight worked out a whole lot better than last time.

“Skye? I hope you’re ready. We need to be there in a bit if we want to scope the place out before we—holy shit.” Hudson, as eloquent as ever, halted in the doorway to the main bathroom, his bowtie hanging around his neck and fingers grasping either side like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

I finished with my lipstick and straightened, running my hands along my sides, knowing he’d like it. What? A girl has to get her rocks off somehow and it wouldn’t be either of the men who wanted in—or out—of the dress tonight who made me smile next.

“Glad you scrub up well,” I murmured, smiling slightly and trying not to drool.

It wasn’t only the bowtie that was still undone—I was back to beach bodyguard Hudson, all tan, muscles and tequila nights. So far I’d only seen him in board shorts, or jeans and a tee. Anything else seemed out of uniform for the bulky man. But it wasn’t a lie – he did scrub up good. Black pants showed off hard earned thigh muscle, and an expanse of golden skin above the belt line, which was where I fixed my gaze.

On the skin. Above the belt.

Shit, shit, shit.

I glanced up and by the smirk that decorated his drooly face as he surveyed me in kind I knew I’d been busted. His hair was pushed back off his face like a blonde James Bond, all suave and shit.

“Where’d my partner go?” I said without thinking,

“Yeah.” He swallowed, his eyes still fixed on me. “Same, honey.”

I shook my head, though I wasn't sure if it was at him or me. “If you want the tie done up, then you need to do the shirt up.” I clicked my tongue and batted his hands away when he obediently started to button from the bottom up. “No. Never bottom. Start at the top.”

“What are you, a reclusive socialite turned Texas Ranger?” he gaped at me as I deftly did his shirt up, avoiding his skin as best I could and made a not so mess of his bow tie.

“There.”

“You are a goddess, you know that?” One hand rose to brush over a curl I painstakingly twisted and sprayed until it stayed that way. “And I get to have you.”

“Not tonight, sunshine.” I batted that hand away too and stepped back, the spell holding us in a sort of charged stasis breaking.

“You wound me,” he said softly, not stepping away like I expected, or huffing at me. “He’s gonna be trouble tonight. You know that.”

I swallowed back the urge to snap but the wounded look on Hudson’s face shattered something fragile inside me. Guilt swamped me and I softened my tone. “He’s not the only one who’ll be trouble.” I stepped into him a little. “It’s a job, Hudson. Let this thing go.”

His brow furrowed. “Why? Because we’re partners? If it’s because you don’t trust me, then seek another Ranger to fuck and dump.” The line of his jaw remained hard. He stared at me, his anger turning inward as his body stiffened.

“Maybe it’s best.” I let out a breath. That was easier than I expected.

Then why did I feel so damn shitty about it?

“It’s time.” Hudson checked his watch, offering no reprieve. “If you get stuck tonight I’ll be there, Skye.” His voice lowered. “I promise.”

I shook my head and gave him an empty smile. “You can’t promise me anything at all.”

Yep, tonight was going to be just like last time.

I padded across the floor to the door and slipped on my heels that almost brought me to Hudson’s height, but not quite. Marco didn’t like tall women, and I wondered if I should dumb it down a little more. He seemed to like the bimbo act after all.

“Beautiful,” Hudson murmured, right at my elbow. His fingers curled through my arm. “Let’s get this show on the road so we can pack the hell up and go home.”

We’d only been in the town for a handful of hours and I was more than ready to agree.

If only on that one thing.

****

The Serenade sat moored beside other multimillion dollar yachts on the waterfront. Marco’s personal party wasn’t the only one in progress. Further along the bay, another boat thumped with music and laughter that carried across the water. Marco’s was a small gathering in comparison, but the guest list was that much more exclusive. Without my accidental meeting with the smuggler—whose boat was easily the largest and most expensive in the bay, though I doubted he needed the tax write-off like the software developer’s boat we passed earlier, we would never have been able to get on board.

Thank Archer for suggesting we both pack cocktail and black tie attire. It was like he’d known how this assignment would go. Setting aside my instinctive dislike for the man abandoning his unit for a moment, I wondered what else he might expect, and if we would live up to the pedestal he set out for us.

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