Guarded by the Cowboy (WEST Protection Book 2) Read online

  For now.

  “I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ll return in twenty minutes to show you around, Marks.” Thornburne once again looked down on Lauralee. “You can start immediately.”

  She opened her mouth to question him, but Boone quickly opened the door and ushered her inside. He barely got the door closed and his back firmly against it to keep her from bolting out when she rounded on him.

  “What is going on? What does he mean, start immediately? What am I starting?”

  Judging by those silvery sparks in her gray eyes, he was in for a wild time once he told her.

  He struggled to find a way to break the news to her that she’d be setting aside her hard-won skills to push a mop bucket. His guard training didn’t give him any answers, so he turned to what he knew of women. His momma and sister Corrine liked to be told something good before the bad. He’d seen his father do it with both women. Supper sure was good, honey, but we won’t be having any more beans this season because the rabbits ate the entire crop.

  Lauralee waited, impatience burning in her eyes and fists balled at her sides. “Boone?”

  “You’d better start thinking of me as Brodie.” He pitched his voice low. The walls didn’t look very thick or soundproof.

  “Fine,” she whispered hotly. “Brodie!”

  “Well, Lara, Black was very impressed with you.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “So impressed, actually, that he would like to hire you too.”

  Her eyes popped. “Running security?”

  Knowing he had to crush the hope he saw in her face brought him down another couple pegs on the enthusiasm scale. “As a maid.”

  “A what!” Her outburst was loud enough to surely be heard throughout the wing of the rambling ranch.

  He stepped toward her and grasped her shoulders. “We’re a package deal.”

  “Did you know before you dragged me into this?”

  “No, but clearly it was planned out.” He nodded his head toward the foot of the bed, where a maid’s uniform was neatly folded.

  Her gaze landed on the uniform, and her lips curled in outrage. “I’m a maid? And I have to wear that thing? I look horrible in that shade of blue! Oh. My. God.” She pulled free of his grasp, walked to the bed, picked up the uniform and unfurled the dress with a sharp flap of her hands.

  For three full heartbeats, she stared at the garment with its ruffle around the neck. Then she did something he would never, ever have expected from his new, very controlled, studious bride.

  She hurled it down to the floor and stomped on it. When she whirled on him, her eyes blazed. “You wear it! I’ll head the security.”

  Chapter Four

  Lauralee emerged from the bathroom in the horrid blue dress with the itchy, stiff collar and stopped in her tracks.

  Boone faced away from her, his starched white shirt stretched taut over his muscled spine and tucked into the waist of black trousers. A black belt emphasized his waist, and a holster crossed his back.

  She cleared her throat, and he pivoted.

  Her breath hitched as she caught sight of his half-buttoned shirt. Between the gaping fabric, she glimpsed his tanned chest with the small sprouts of dark hair she’d seen back in the office, when he had to rework the buttons of his shirt.

  Was that only days before? It felt like a lifetime. Clearly, she’d spent too long as his wife already.

  “I have a problem,” she said.

  He paused midbutton.

  She turned to present her spine to him and then glanced over her shoulder. “I can’t zip this by myself.”

  He didn’t move to do it. Her heart flipped after ten beats.

  Just when she was about to send some sass his way, his body heat scorched over her bare skin. His warm fingers at the crest of her buttocks sent her into a panic that he was seeing far too much of her.

  The long zipper vibrated tooth by tooth to her nape, prickling the hair there and everything in between.

  She sucked in a breath. “Thank you.”

  “Guess you can’t get out of it alone either.”

  She captured his gaze. “Thanks for reminding me. Also, why do you get to look all…” She waved up and down his hunky body at his crisp shirt and pants. The holster held a weapon tucked close to his side, and him being hatless lent him an even more dangerous air than that white Stetson.

  He cocked a brow in question.

  She regained her wits, snapping her mouth shut after realizing it was hanging open. “All dressed up. And I have to be a dowdy, frumpy housemaid?”

  He slowly dipped his gaze over her tight collar with the itchy ruffle, down her bodice to the flare of her hips. As he lowered his gaze to her bare legs, lingering around her ankles, she snapped her fingers in front of his face.

  “Stop looking at me that way.”

  His hard lips quirked at one corner. “I’m just practicin’, honey.”

  She gave him a jaundiced look.

  “Ready for this? We’re going to lie low, fit in, learn our jobs, then we’re going to figure out everything we can about this guy. Your role is actually very important, Lauralee. You will have some freedom in the house and get to hear any gossip among the staff. With luck, you could get close to his wife.”

  She straightened. “I considered that. It’s the only thing that got me into this dress.”

  He searched her face. “It isn’t too bad, though it does make you look paler.”

  She groaned.

  Waving a hand around his head, his stare latched on to her hair. “I’ve never seen your hair…up like that.”

  “Because I’m terrible at girly things like hair and makeup.”

  “You don’t need makeup—you’re beautiful without it.”

  Her mouth dropped open again. Why did he keep doing that to her? She was acting as if she’d never received a compliment in her entire life. Okay, so they were few and far between and plenty came from her own mother, but that didn’t mean no man had ever taken an interest in her.

  Just not any as good-looking as Boone Wynton. Or her husband Brodie Marks.

  She focused on his still-unbuttoned shirt. “Uh…thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He took up where he left off, as if her notice spurred him to remember those buttons left undone. When he reached the top, he left it open.

  She stuck her finger under her own ruffled nightmare. “It’s hot and itchy and uncomfortable. If I don’t suffocate in the uniform, I might be able to find Black’s wife.”

  All of it would be worth the suffering and humiliation if she did find her.

  “Did that big ape who showed us to our room tell you the time you get off duty?” she asked with more hope in her voice than she wanted to display. She didn’t want him to think she was eager to meet him in bed. In fact, she was uncomfortably aware that they’d be sharing the double, or one of them would be camping on the floor.

  The only satisfaction she got from looking at the small bed came from the fact Boone’s feet would hang off the end.

  “Do I want to know what that smile means?” His deep voice broke through her musings.

  She bit down on her lip. “No. Definitely not.”

  They stared at each other. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He started toward the door.

  “Wait!”

  He turned, a crinkle between his brows.

  “You forgot your hat.”

  “Not sure if I’m allowed to wear it yet.”

  The white Stetson associated with WEST Protection lay vulnerable on the mattress, and while Boone was hot as hell without it, she found she preferred him with.

  The thought had her backpedaling to escape the very odd feelings growing inside her at being alone with a gorgeous cowboy who she was married to. She wore his rings.

  No, I wear Brodie Marks’s rings.

  She ran her thumb along the rough bumps of the diamond bands and then held out her hand. “Do you think a ma
id would be wearing these?”

  “Don’t take them off, Lauralee. It shows our status, and Black wants that. I’m sure if you’re doing something dirty, you’ll be wearing gloves.”

  At the mention of “something dirty,” heat climbed up her throat. Damn her pale skin—she knew she must be flushing, and Boone looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “Don’t be worried,” he said.

  Relief that he’d mistaken the reason her high color flooded in.

  “You got this. You’re doing great.”

  “Thank you. Let’s get this over with.”

  He walked to the door and opened it for her. She passed through, and damn if she didn’t feel his heated stare traveling over her back for the second time. Knowing he’d be the one to zip her out of this blasted dress had her on edge. Part of her wanted to get it off as fast as possible, and the other part of her… Well, maybe getting out of the ugly dress would be worth it, even if it meant Boone had to put his hands on her.

  In the hallway, Thornburne stood waiting to take them wherever Black wanted them. As soon as they began walking, another maid in the same blue uniform emerged from a door and fell into step beside Lauralee.

  “I’m Anna. I’m going to be showing you the ropes today.”

  She smiled. “Laur—Lara,” she corrected herself, hoping she simply sounded nervous and not as if she was covering up her true identity or a dozen misgivings about whether or not she really could pull off this undercover business without being caught.

  Anna angled her head toward an intersecting corridor. “This way.”

  Lauralee paused. Boone continued to walk ahead of her with Thornburne, but he tossed her a glance over his shoulder that told her everything would be all right. And tonight, they’d meet up in their room and discuss what they’d seen and heard this afternoon.

  She caught up to Anna, offering her a smile. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. If I was married to a man like that, I wouldn’t want to leave my bed!” She giggled.

  Lauralee sneaked one more look. Even though he faced forward again, she wouldn’t put it past him to possess the sharp hearing of a Wynton, and heard every word Anna said.

  Her stare fell on the hard, chiseled buns in those black dress pants. Secretly she had to agree with Anna—Boone was a damn fine man.

  * * * * *

  According to Boone’s momma, men couldn’t multitask. More than once she claimed the men at her table couldn’t think and eat at the same time. Good thing he was proving her wrong today.

  He listened intently to every word Thornburne told him, drank in each detail of his surroundings…and still managed to keep thinking about how sexy Lauralee looked in that maid uniform.

  Call him a pervert, but even that little frill around her neck gave him a case of blue balls, not to mention the tight way the fabric clung to her hips.

  Hips he’d wanted to latch on to and pull against him just to hear her gasp.

  Right now, he wished like hell he’d taken time to tumble one of his girlfriends into bed, but truth be told, he hadn’t been with any of them in months. He’d been too busy. And when one got hold of him, he always seemed to have something better to do.

  Which was pretty telling when it came to his feelings for them. Even the promise of a hot, naked woman in his bed didn’t do it for him.

  But clearly an ugly blue maid’s uniform and a woman with fire in her eyes and a sharp tongue to match did.

  Dammit, sleeping beside her hadn’t been a worry until now. But knowing those hips were within grabbing distance…

  He clamped off that thought and ingested a few more things Thornburne pointed out. Boone gave him his full attention for a moment and asked a question about the times that shifts changed at the gates before his mind slid to his wife once more.

  Hell, who would have thought he’d get married in such a way? He always knew he’d get hitched and pop out a couple puppies with a woman someday, but his current relationship status was plain odd.

  Married people liked each other’s company.

  Neither of them seemed to fall into that category.

  Married people were attracted to each other too.

  Before today, he’d taken notice of things about Lauralee—her hair, freckles and eyes, mostly. What were her preferences when it came to men? For all he knew, he wasn’t even her type.

  He shook himself back to reality and the talk of security at the site of the oil rig. The company doing the drilling provided their own people, but Black didn’t trust them as far as he could heave them. So he hired guards to guard the guards.

  Back to Lauralee.

  What did she think of him? The maid, Anna, had clearly and boldly given her thoughts on his appearance—though Lauralee remained silent.

  Besides his desire to clamp his hands on those round hips and pull her against him came with a very strange new protective feeling inside him.

  How many people had he guarded since the inception of WEST Protection? Dozens. He did his job—and did it damn well—but never had he felt such a strong desire to soothe a person. In Black’s office, Boone’s only goal had been to keep Lauralee calm and to let her know he’d keep her safe.

  And she’d sought his touch too, leaning into his hand on her spine or gripping it until her fingers whitened.

  There was also the lingering scent of doughnuts filling his head as Thornburne led him into a room filled with monitors. Each screen revealed a part of the ranch. All four corners and everything between was on display for him to monitor. And when he wasn’t sitting there, one of the men he’d manage would be.

  He scanned the screens displaying shots of the perimeter. “This might be a concern here.” He pointed to one place that might be an opening for a trespasser. He looked to Thornburne. “Have you ever had problems with people sneaking onto the property?”

  “A few times, yeah.”

  “What’s the usual protocol? Call the sheriff?”

  The big lump of muscle gave an evasive shrug, and immediately Boone thought of a gully or an old well where the trespassers were tossed. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d run across a dirty operation, and he got the impression that Black would go to any length to protect his assets.

  Including his wife.

  Boone turned his attention to the monitors. Immediately, he picked out a few empty hallways. One camera faced a door.

  “Where are these?” He pointed.

  Thornburne grunted. “I’ll show you on the tour.”

  Just then, Boone tracked the movement of a woman. She walked into the kitchen and set a heavy box on the counter.

  Lauralee.

  Even on camera, she looked miserable. He wanted to laugh, but he felt bad—and a little turned on too. Whatever tasks they were making her do, she most certainly wasn’t accustomed to manual labor. She sat behind a computer all day.

  She’d need her feet rubbed after her long, arduous hours of work.

  She started unpacking jars from a box and carrying them a few at a time to a shelf across the kitchen. She fiddled with the jars, making sure the labels all faced the same direction.

  He shook his head and turned to Thornburne. “I’ve got a handle on this. What’s next?”

  He led Boone out of the surveillance room. The more he explored, the more he fleshed out the map of the house and property in his head. He loved analyzing a situation, plugging leaky holes and generally finding new ways to make things operate smoother.

  The tour took them through the rest of the house. Each closed door they passed, he wondered if Black’s wife sat behind it. Isadora Black, thirty-eight years old. Her family owned orchards in California and a vineyard in South America. She came from money and married into money.

  Did Black have a reason to believe she’d try to strip him of his wealth if they were to divorce? Boone wouldn’t know without more information about the woman—and speaking to her seemed impossible for the moment.

  But how long did they have to
find her and free her? A lot of gears would need to be oiled to keep their lies running smoothly. One misstep from either him or Lauralee could result in disaster.

  Thornburne pointed to a hallway. “Mr. Black’s personal suite. The camera you asked about is there.” He gestured to the ceiling.

  “Smart to have eyes on his room.”

  Thornburne grunted and continued to lead him through the house.

  Once they stepped outside onto the ranch again, he pulled in a deep breath of fresh air and felt a bit of that turmoil inside him calm. Out here, he was in his element.

  When a shorter man, stocky with muscle, stepped out of the barn, Boone instantly recognized a kindred spirit. Men like Thornburne weren’t friends of his—but this man could be.

  It’d be good to have an ally here.

  With a smile and nod, he approached the man. “Brodie Marks. How are ya?”

  The man strolled up to him with a likeable smile creasing his eyes. “Pretty good now that it’s about time for my lunch break.”

  Thornburne interrupted, “Marks is our new head of security, Butch. Marks, this is Butch Flaherty, our ranch foreman.”

  They shook hands. The rough, callused feel of Butch’s hand took him home to Stone Pass and his own father’s grip. Some men were cut from the same cloth, and Boone’s ability to read people told him this man was one of the good ole boys who kept a place like this running in tip-top shape.

  If they walked into that barn, he’d bet one of the Wyntons’ purebred horses that he’d find it pristinely clean, and every man on the ranch probably respected the hell out of him even though he made them work hard.

  Butch changed his grip on Boone’s hand and looked him in the eyes. “Seems you’ve done a spot of hard work in your life.”

  They broke apart, and Boone chuckled. “My family’s got horses and some Angus. I’ve spent many an hour in the barn or rustling cattle.”

  Butch cocked a brow at Thornburne. “You sure he’s head of security? Seems like he’d have a place with me here.”

  “Well, maybe you won’t mind if my wife and I have a look around the barn in our off hours.”