Page 6 of Light on Love

To her left is a small dining table in the corner of the open kitchen. It is L-shaped with an island and cream cabinets with muted black counters. To her right is a large living room with windows running across the whole back, wood floors throughout that lead back into the kitchen and a deep leather sofa surrounded by a series of cream armchairs, all facing a brick wood burning fireplace with built-in shelves on either side.

They pass between the island and the sofa to get to the front of the house where she finds a formal dining room with another fireplace to her left and an office to the far right. Between them is the entryway’s oak double wide staircase. She pauses once at the top of the staircase to take in the view from the oversized window, noticing how the remaining evening light sparkles off the river in the distance.

Laurel hears the sound of a throat being cleared behind her, turning to find Brett waiting in a doorway down the hall.She again hurries to close the distance between them, peering through the open door. Inside is a wrought iron bed with fluffy white bedding, matching wood nightstands and dresser, and a pale blue armchair all atop hardwood floors and a vintage rug. With a window overlooking the barns, it was one of the most inviting spaces she’d ever stayed in, much cozier than her bedroom in Virginia.

“This is your room. I’ll have one of the guys get your bags,” Brett says as he strides away, pausing after a few steps. “Make yourself at home, plenty of room and plenty of food in the kitchen,” he adds before disappearing back down the stairs.

After a day of traveling, Laurel was eager for a shower and to get into that inviting bed. During her self-guided tour through the kitchen for dinner, one of the guys does indeed bring her things upstairs. Now going through her suitcase, she grabs her softest silk sleep set and heads into the bathroom attached to her room. The bathroom is just as open and bright as the rest of the house, complete with a rainfall shower. Once under the warm water, Laurel inhales deeply.It’s okay to relax, she tells herself.

She tries to clear her mind, but instead finds her thoughts wandering to the sight of Brett watching her with that potent look of his. She expects to feel nervous, but the memory instead creates a different feeling for her. One that comes with a flicker of need throughout her body. She can’t help but wonder how much time she will spend with him while here.

You’re an assignment to him, she scolds herself. Besides, she has more pressing things to focus on, like the fact that she was being hunted. As she heads back into the bedroom after the shower, she notices movement across the room. Laurel stops in her tracks and holds her breath as her eyes search.

The dark shadow darts out suddenly from the corner behind the chair and she lets out a scream, taking a step backward. Instantly, her door is thrown open and there’s Brett, shirtless,her brain helpfully notices. His eyes scan her before turning to look around the room. She points to the corner where the largest spider-like creature in history scales the wall.

An unreadable expression crosses his face, was that a look of relief? Then a smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. He crosses the room in a quick stride, killing the spider with the hilt of the knife he pulled from his pocket.

“What is that thing?” she mutters. They don’t have spiders like that on the east coast.

“Dead.”

He turns to her now, and his gaze makes her keenly aware that she is wearing only a thin layer of silk between her skin and the cool night air. He can probably make out her peaked nipples though this. Pushing that embarrassing thought aside, she instead focuses on taking him in.

His bare torso is all cut muscles down to the unbuckled leather belt hanging on his jeans, and there is a single tattoo on his chest, over his heart. It’s a tattoo she recognizes to be a SEALs symbol, a bone frog holding a trident. Laurel’s mouth goes dry, and she feels a tingle throughout her body.Oh, what is this man doing to me?

“You realize people typically scream because they are being attacked?” he growls, pulling her from her thoughts. Laurel’s hand twists into her hair.

“To be fair, I thought I was,” she retorts. Brett runs his own hand through his hair and down to cup the back of his neck, his eyes falling to the strap of her camisole that has slipped from her shoulder.

“Well,” he murmurs gruffly, “then consider this threat eliminated.”

“Well, then thank you,” she responds, attempting to match his sarcastic tone as she pushes the strap back up on hershoulder.With one last glance at her, Brett disappears back out the door.

4

Laurel wakes the next morning disoriented, taking a moment to scan the room before recalling that she’s at Hayes Ranch.That’s right, terrorists and cowboys are common themes in my life these days. Today she’d start on finding the men hunting her before vice versa occurs, she determines with a yawn.

Sitting up in bed and stretching her arms, her body reminds her that coffee is the clear first step. She changes into denim shorts and a white tee, happy to be able to wear her normal clothes rather than business attire on a weekday. Then she grabs the files from her bag on the dresser and heads downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, Laurel’s eyes are drawn to a series of neon orange post-it notes around the room. Notes that weren’t there the night before. The one closest to her is rested on the round black sponge at the sink.Not a spider, it reads.

“Well, he’s clearly amusing himself,” she mumbles as she walks over to the other two post-it’s. The first sits on the edge of a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls.Floyd’s wife bakes these, try them, you won’t regret it.

Laurel plucks a roll off the plate and takes a bite, a moan escaping her as she chews the delicious baked treat. Finally, she turns to the last note, this one stuck to the front of the coffeemachine.Push start, she reads as she notices the mug already placed beneath it.

After locating the creamer and sugar, both also unnecessarily labeled with bright orange notes, she takes her coffee, a second cinnamon roll, and the files out to the back porch.Stretching across the back of the house and around the corner, the covered porch overlooks the hill down to the barns. There are a few rocking chairs on the one side at the bend, and on the other a cushioned porch swing. A long wooden table sits in the center of the porch with metal chairs surrounding it. She sits at the table and opens the first file, pulling out the pen and notepad that she had tucked at the bottom of the stack.

A few hours later, and three-fourths of the way through the first report, Laurel looks up to see a pack of cowboys riding over the ridge. It’s impossible to miss Brett at the front, a head taller than most of the other men. In a natural bone colored cowboy hat and pale blue button up shirt, it’s impossible to deny that he pulls the look off. Brett’s chestnut colored horse also stands taller than the others, clearly as comfortable commanding the valley as his rider.

She sits back and watches as the men ride down into the pasture connected to the barn on the far left. Leaving the horses to graze as they dismount, the group strides into the barn. All except for Brett, who has begun to head her way.

His boots click up the wooden steps of the porch as he approaches. She sits forward, setting her chin in her hands.

“A fan of post-it notes?” she asks. The corner of Brett’s mouth ticks up as he takes a seat across the table from her, stretching out his long legs and lacing his hands together behind his head.

“Find everything okay this morning?” he asks in return, nodding towards the empty coffee cup.

“It wasn’t easy locating things, but I managed,” Laurel teases, her tone dripping with sarcasm.That earned her a small smirkagain. They were starting to feel like a reward she was eager for.“What are you working on?” he reaches out and taps the files.

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