Page 9 of Booker's Mission

“Shut up.”

Booker glanced around the bar, still nursing that prickling feeling along his neck. “You need to tell her. You know that, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It really isn’t.”

Wyatt huffed. “How about we focus on your pathetic love life, instead?”

“Can’t focus on nothing.”

“You need to date. Or, at least, invite a lady home with you.” He shook his head when Booker merely stared at him. “When’s the last time you kissed someone?”

Booker chuckled, moved in as he palmed Wyatt’s jaw then planted a big sloppy kiss on the man’s face. “There. Happy?”

Wyatt wiped the corner of his mouth, shaking his head. “I seriously hope that’s not how you kiss the ladies because I’d understand why you’re alone.”

“I’ve seen you kiss, and that was a thousand times better than what your sorry mouth can do.”

“You’re not wrong, Booker, but he does have a certain charm.”

Booker startled, hating the fact he automatically reached for his gun before he had the good sense to stuff his hand in his pocket — pray it didn’t look half as silly as it had felt. Kirby Carrington stood several feet away, one foot tapping the old wood floors as she alternated her gaze between them. Her long blonde hair pulled back in some kind of messy bun, her blue-green eyes focused on Wyatt. And Booker couldn’t help but wonder if she even noticed anyone else in the room.

Sure, Wyatt had claimed she was the one who was keeping their relationship at arm’s length, but looking at her now… She certainly didn’t appear unaffected by his buddy’s presence.

He nodded toward Wyatt. “I’m not sure charm is in Wyatt’s vocabulary.”

Wyatt gave him a swat, moving over to her before dropping a quick kiss on her lips. “I thought I was picking you up?”

Kirby laughed, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I was able to get on an earlier connection. Figured it was just easier to catch a cab. Though, if I’d known I’d walk in on the love fest between you two…”

Wyatt waved it off. “Booker was just being an ass.”

Booker scoffed. “You don’t have to be mean because we both know I’m the better kisser.”

“In your dreams, buddy.”

Kirby sighed. “Now I know why I always suspected there were three of us in our bed.” She pointed to the beers. “One of those for me?”

Wyatt grinned, and fuck, Booker swore the guy was beaming. Actually beaming. As if she’d started a fire inside of him and it was seeping out through his skin. And there was no missing the dopey-eyed way he stared at Kirby. The guy had it bad. “Definitely.”

Wyatt handed her a bottle, glancing over at Booker but he simply grinned, ordering another before joining them at the table. There was casual conversation and some good-natured teasing with the crew before the others went off to shoot darts, leaving him, Wyatt and Kirby at the table.

Booker nodded at Kirby. “So, Kirby. I have to say, I don’t think any lady’s traveled a few thousand miles to visit me.”

Kirby laughed. “It’s not just to see Wyatt. My parents are celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary. They live close by, so I’m doing double duty.”

“They live outside West Yellowstone?”

“Salt Lake City, actually.”

He managed to school his features before he let his mouth hinge open because his idea of close wasn’t three hundred miles and over four hours of driving. But who was he to judge? “Quite the accomplishment for them. How’s work? Your gorillas okay?”

She shrugged, downing the last of her beer. “Better, now that we’ve dealt with this stupid poaching ring. Bastards were stealing the babies for meat. Sick, really.”

Had he choked on his beer? Spit it across the table? Or was Wyatt the only one slamming a fist on his chest to keep from coughing. “You did what, now?”

She shrugged off his question. “It was nothing. We just took turns photographing the assholes before turning it over to the police. They staged a raid and now, things are better.”

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