Page 6 of Mountain Protector

She swallows, her throat working. “That might get awkward in the bathroom.”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”

Ruby throws me a sharp look. “We need to establish some ground rules before we head to Fit Mountain Ink.”

I straighten, recognizing the shift in her tone. “I’m listening.”

“Nobody knows about this...” she waves her hand in the air between us, “...arrangement. And I want to keep it that way. As far as anyone at the shop is concerned, you’re a friend visiting from out of town. Not a bodyguard, not security, and definitely not someone my dad hired.”

I consider her request.

From a tactical perspective, announcing my purpose would potentially make her more of a target. From a personal perspective, I can understand her reluctance to admit she needs protection.

“That works,” I agree. “Friend from out of town.”

Ruby studies me for a moment, like she’s trying to decide if I’m being reasonable or if there’s a catch.

“Good. And stay out of the way when I’m working. No hovering.”

“I can be inconspicuous.” It’s what I’ve been trained for.

“With that body? Doubtful.”

The words slip out, and I catch a flash of color creeping up her neck as she busies herself with Spike’s carrier. I find myself fighting back a smile at her accidental compliment. I step forward, reaching for the carrier and bag of supplies.

“I’ve got it, sweetheart.”

She hesitates, then hands them over. “Fine. But remember?—”

“Friend from out of town,” I finish for her. “Not your personal security detail. Got it.”

As she grabs her keys and phone, I notice a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Progress.

“And just so we’re clear,” she says, pausing at the door, “I still think this whole thing is ridiculous. My dad is overreacting, as usual.”

I meet her eyes, letting some of my professional mask slip.

“Maybe. But until Holloway is recaptured it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Something in my tone must convey the seriousness, because she doesn’t argue further. Instead, she squares her shoulders and walks out the door, leaving me to follow with Spike in tow. For a brief moment, I find myself admiring more than just her professional independence.

Focus, Dover. This is a job, not a date.

I repeat this to myself as I follow her down the stairs and into the bright Wyoming morning. But even as I scan the street for potential threats, I can’t shake the feeling that Ruby Wilson is going to be more than just another assignment.

* * *

Fit Mountain Inksits on a corner in downtown Cooper Heights, its brick facade gleaming in the morning light.

The place looks exactly like Ruby. I follow her through the glass door, taking in the exposed brick walls covered in framed artwork, the polished hardwood floors, the leather seating in the waiting area. My eyes catalog every entrance and exit, every potential threat point, every defensive position, but part of me is just admiring the space she inhabits.

“Home sweet home,” Ruby says, flipping on lights that illuminate the interior even more. Sunlight pours through the large front windows, catching dust motes dancing in the air.

I set Spike’s carrier on a counter near the reception desk. “The owners are on vacation?”

Ruby nods, moving behind the reception desk with practiced ease.

“Twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Two weeks in Hawaii.” She shoots me a glance as she boots up the computer. “The Morrisons hardly ever take time off. I practically had to push them out the door.”

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