CHAPTER7
The next morning,Dean resumed the touchy-feely husband routine on their walk to the lodge for breakfast. Mel was quiet, had in fact been unusually subdued since their kiss had run off the rails last night. He should probably ask or explain, but he didn’t have the answers. And he refused to back off of the original plan. Everyone needed to know she was not fair game at any time. Having her close was an interesting form of torture, but he would always protect Mel, particularly from her own denial about the threat that was Atwell.
Dawn was still a whisper away and there was a bite in the air that warned of snow. “Our day could get cut short.”
Mel glanced to the sky as he opened the lodge door for her. “Guess I’ll remind the others to wear layers.” She gave him a sweet smile as she crossed the threshold. “Oh, man. I didn’t think anyone did breakfast as well as Gunny and RJ,” she whispered for Dean’s ears alone.
A buffet had been set on one side of the room and a fire was blazing in the massive stone hearth. The scene would definitely impress the tourists and more than a few locals. Overhead, thick polished log rafters were decorated with colorful blankets and a variety of saddles, the leather glowing with care. The savory aroma of sausage, bacon, eggs, and maple syrup filled the air.
Mel’s stomach growled. “Two of everything, please.” She gave his fingers a squeeze. “I’ll get the coffee.”
He filled plates for each of them and moved toward the long table where Kent and Lacy were already tucking into the hearty fare. Taking seats that gave them a full view of the room and the door leading back to the kitchen, he greeted the others.
Mel stared at her plate, but it was Lacy who commented, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “You must’ve worked up an appetite last night.”
Dean caught Mel’s big smile as she bumped her shoulder to his. “My hubby taught me to fuel up when I can,” she said. “Even better when someone else does the cooking.” She sipped her coffee, cradling the cup in her hands. “Your schedule is jam-packed and we might have some winter weather moving in.”
“You’re serious? How can you tell?” Kent’s gaze went to the windows, then swiveled back to the main door as Spalding arrived with Maria, Andrew and Dale. The four of them were clearly involved in a conversation as they made a beeline for the buffet.
“Smells like snow to me,” Dean said.
Kent shook his head, in awe or disbelief. “Thank goodness all I can smell is breakfast,” Kent joked, adding butter and syrup to the short stack of pancakes on his plate.
In general, Dean enjoyed the group from Hollywood. They were friendly and smart and eager to learn more about the area. He appreciated the lack of pretense and attitude. No one seemed disgruntled or unhappy about being on the trip. Spalding was treated with respect, but not fear.
Made him think this assignment really had originated as a standard, just-in-case kind of call. Until Atwell came on the scene.
Living out here under a new name, he was clearly making plenty of friends. Odds were exceedingly low that anyone in this area would know who he’d been. Too bad, his time had just run out. However the man had or hadn’t changed, Dean wouldn’t let him off the hook for his past crimes. He’d arranged to have Mel killed.
The hearty, hot breakfast turned to sawdust in his mouth. His fork clattered against his plate. Where would he be without her in his life? Already, she was as essential as breathing. She understood him and communicated with an ease that was better than any team he’d been part of before. He cared for her. About her. And he damn well needed her as a partner and a friend. Atwell had nearly snuffed her out once. Dean wouldn’t give him another chance.
He reached for his coffee, annoyed by the quiver in his hand.
Mel quirked an eyebrow in query and he gave a faint shake of his head. She subsided with a look that warned him she would get her answers later.
He’d just regained his composure when Atwell arrived, just as charming as he’d been last night. Clearly the king of his new empire and excited to have the chance to impress Spalding at every opportunity.
Atwell poured himself a tall cup of coffee and then worked the room, chatting with each individual.
“Like he’s running for mayor,” Mel murmured behind her coffee cup, for Dean’s ears only.
Within minutes, Atwell was situated directly across from Dean, a wide smile creasing his face. “Did you sleep well? Is the cabin to your liking?”
“It’s lovely,” Mel replied. “Your future guests will be delighted.”
“Thank you.” Atwell inclined his head. “I’ll pass on your kind words to my head of housekeeping, as well.” He turned to Dean. “You operate the drones?”
“We both do,” Dean replied, beaming at Mel. He didn’t have to fake how much he admired her. “I’ll be piloting this morning and my wife will be watching the monitor for us.”
“How exciting.” Atwell’s gaze moved to Mel and the intensity in the man’s eyes made Dean bristle. “Do you prefer monitoring or piloting, Mrs. Turner?”
“Monitoring,” she said. Dean draped his arm around Mel’s shoulders. “Seeing those first overhead views always gives me a thrill.” She aimed a smile at Dean. “My husband is an expert at handling thermals and wind shear. Both can be such an issue here in the mountains.”
“I confess, I have no experience with such things.” Atwell’s smile was too broad and bright. “Drones are interesting, but working so closely with my wife?” He shook his head. “No, no.” He narrowed his gaze at Dean’s arm around Mel. “I don’t believe our marriage would have prospered as yours has done.”