Page 12 of Landon

“No,” he admitted, his amusement evident. “I was just messing with you. No mumbling.”

“Hmm, a real jokester, aren’t you?” she teased, feigning annoyance.

“Not usually,” he confessed, the hint of a grin lingering.

Noel sat up straighter, running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to smooth it, ensuring she didn’t look toodisheveled. “I guess I bring out the humor in you,” she quipped, smoothing her hands over her pants to straighten them.

Landon’s gaze remained fixed on her, his eyes filled with something softer, something contemplative. “You always seem to carry a good sense of humor. Maybe it’s contagious.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his, the sincerity in his expression catching her off guard. “Life’s too short not to find humor wherever you can,” she replied softly.

“Even in your job?” he asked, his tone almost reverent.

Her breath hitched, and she nodded slowly. “Yes. Especially in my job.”

“I suppose you’ve seen the worst in humanity.”

“I’ve spent my entire career in child protective services. I’ve seen things no one should ever have to see—abuse and neglect. But I’ve also witnessed the kind of courage and resilience in children that would put the bravest soldier to shame.”

Landon’s eyes softened. “I’d bet that to many of those kids, you’re the hero.”

His words caught her off guard. She cocked her head to the side as she stared, taking him in. “This comes from the man who works for a security firm after having been an FBI agent. I have a feeling between the two of us, you would be considered the hero.”

He held her gaze, his expression serious. “I’ve had moments in my career when I felt that my mission or my actions were heroic,” he admitted. “But that’s not the same as being a hero.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “I have a feeling you and I could argue the definition of heroism all day.”

He chuckled again, and just as before, she allowed the sound to wash over her, warm and comforting. She glanced at his phone, held casually in his hand, and thought of how he tapped on the keyboard after Mike Westerly climbed aboard. “So,” she asked, her tone playful, “what did you find out about me?”

Landon’s eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by her question. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

Noel couldn’t suppress her laughter, though she quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, glancing over to ensure Mike was still snoring away.

Landon’s gaze sharpened, narrowing slightly as he leaned in. “What makes you think I needed to learn anything about you?”

She didn’t flinch, meeting his intense gaze with equal resolve. Leaning forward, she lowered her voice. “You strike me as the kind of man who doesn’t leave anything to chance. This assignment came together fast—Pamela and the kids flew to Jamaica yesterday, and her demands hit Stan last night. The Fugates worked with their attorney to set the plan in motion, and thanks to their judge friend, both of our agencies were on board by morning. I figure you’d want to know exactly who you were partnering with.”

Landon pulled his bottom lip inward, biting down slightly, clearly weighing his response. The flicker of admiration in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed, and Noel waited patiently, knowing he was calculating the best way to answer.

She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s okay, Landon. I’m not offended. Believe me, there are no skeletons in my closet for you to find. But I am curious what you already know about me.”

The air left his lungs in a long, slow exhalation. “I found out that you are who you say you are. Noel Lennox. Thirty-two years old, and no police record.”

“Considering I work in social work with children, it’s paramount that I have a clean record.”

“Understood. I wondered why the judge recommended you specifically," Landon said, his voice calm yet probing. "Especially since you don’t seem to have any prior connection to the Fugates. I had my team look into a few of the cases you’ve worked on.”

A soft gasp escaped her lips. The thought of her private cases being scrutinized unsettled her.

As though he understood her concerns, he said, “I don’t know the particulars. I just know what was part of the public record.”

“What did you discover?”

“You worked on the high-profile case in the news last year. Where the children witnessed their father killing their mother and then threatened to kill them.”

Her body remained still, though her heart raced. She had no words to add to his straightforward summary.

“You also spent two years in one of the toughest areas of Billings, working with homeless children, some of whom were being trafficked.”

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