Double Action Deputy & Hitched! - B.J. Daniels Page 0,28

himself feeling close to her and that would be a mistake, especially given his reputation—and hers.

“Natalie knows this area. She went to college in Bozeman so she’s floated the Madison River on tubes, drunk beer in Bogert Park’s old band shell and sledded Pete’s Hill. There are just some things you do when you attend Montana State University. Or at least we did back in the day.”

He turned toward her. “You went to MSU?” She nodded. “Did you know—”

“Natalie?” She shook her head. “But we were there about the same time. I wouldn’t be surprised if we crossed paths and didn’t know it.” She seemed to be studying the activity on the main street.

He followed her gaze to all the people dressed in shorts and sandals. It made him think of a summer when his parents took them to Yellowstone Park. Growing up on the ranch, there was no such thing as a lazy summer. There was always work to do. It was why he used to sneak away and find a place in the shade to take a nap, but his mother always found him. She would scold him and before she was through, she’d suggest they all go down to the creek for a swim.

That summer in Yellowstone he’d felt like one of the tourists. It had been a great summer with his twin, Angus, brother Hank, sister Mary and cousins Ella and Ford. He realized Mo was staring at him.

“Nice memory?” she asked. “Let me guess. There’s a girl involved.”

He laughed. “As a matter of fact, there is. My mother.” He told her what he’d been thinking about and the picnic lunch they’d had in Yellowstone, swimming in the Firehole, watching Old Faithful go off at sunset before pitching tents at Lake Campground and sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows. Ranch kids often didn’t get those kinds of trips. Too many animals that needed tending to. “The whole trip was my mother’s idea.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. “She sounds like a great lady.”

He smiled. “She is. Not that Dana Cardwell Savage isn’t tough when she has to be. She’s one strong, determined woman.” He met Mo’s gaze. “A lot like you.”

“She doesn’t want you doing this, does she.”

Brick leaned back behind the wheel, watching tourists stream past for a moment. “She doesn’t want me doing a lot of things, including becoming a deputy marshal.”

He could feel Mo openly studying him. “Maybe you should listen to her.”

He turned so he was facing her. “You don’t think I have what it takes?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But it’s what you were thinking.”

She shook her head. “Don’t assume you know what I’m thinking.” They both grew quiet. “I just don’t want to be responsible for your mother having to attend your funeral.”

“Then you’d better make sure nothing happens to me,” he said and laughed. “Look, it’s nice to know you care, but I’m not your responsibility. This is my choice and I can take care of myself.”

He followed her gaze. Mo was watching the older couple down the street. They were taking all day to eat their ice cream cones. “And you aren’t responsible for me. If the only reason you’re here is to stop me, well, I just hate to see you risking your life for nothing.”

“What was your nightmare about?” he asked.

“I don’t remember.” She opened her door. “I thought you said you were hungry?”

Brick knew a nightmare when he saw one. He found himself watching Mo out of the corner of his eye as they took a booth inside the café.

After the waitress brought them menus and water, he opened his, but found himself distracted by what had happened in the pickup earlier. Mo had been sleeping soundly when she began whimpering. He’d asked if she was all right, but hadn’t gotten an answer. Her whimpering had become louder and stronger and she began to quiver until he’d reached over and touched her arm.

She’d come unglued, swinging her fists at him, her blank blue eyes filled with terror. Did this have something to do with Natalie and her fears that the woman was telling the truth and Tricia didn’t take her own life? Or was there more about Maureen Mortensen that he had to worry about?

“I’ll take the special, the chicken-fried steak,” Mo was saying. “Mashed, white gravy and the salad with blue cheese.”

He hadn’t realized that the waitress had come back until Mo spoke. He closed his menu. “I’ll take the same.” He could feel her

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