Read Hunted (Riley Cray) for Free Online Page B

instead for just unzipping it and shaking off the last few flakes of snow that hadn’t melted.
    “Can I get you folks some coffee? Tea?”
    “Coffee for me,” I said, rubbing my cold hands together.
    “Iced tea please, ma'am,” Holbrook answered with a smile as he shrugged out of his jacket to reveal a red plaid shirt unbuttoned over a pristine white t-shirt and dark blue jeans that hugged his hips in a rather intriguing way. I wondered if I'd find the pointed toes of cowboy boots peeking out from beneath the hem of his jeans if I looked down. Sneaking a glance around the edge of the table my suspicions were confirmed.
    Crap on a cracker! I've got a bona fide Marlboro man on my hands , I thought, hiding my snort of amusement behind a cough.
    “Aren’t you a little underdressed?” I asked, eyeing his boots and resisting the urge to examine just how well his jeans fit.
    Giving me a slow wink he replied in a stage whisper, “I’m undercover.”
    Snorting at his response as he slid into the booth across from me, my amusement dimmed somewhat when I noticed the barely visible bulge under his left arm. When I concentrated and drew in a deep breath I caught the scent of metal and gun oil beneath the woody smell of his cologne and the rich, sugary notes that were just him.
    “You ready to order, or do you need a few minutes to look over the menu?” our waitress asked, plucking the pencil from her hair and pulling a small spiral notebook from the pocket of her apron.
    “A couple minutes would be great...” Holbrook said, leaning forward to read the nametag pinned to her uniform. “Betty.”
    “I'll be back with your drinks in a minute,” she said, tucking the pencil back into the cloud of her hair. “Can I get you a refill, Jim?” she called out to the only other patron in the diner, a middle-aged man with thinning grey hair escaping from beneath a Denver Broncos baseball cap.
    “How's your room?” Holbrook asked, drawing my attention back to him.
    “It’s umm...” I floundered, not wanting to insult him and let him know that I thought it was a total shit hole.
    “Bit of a dump, right?” he asked with a chuckle, removing his hat and setting it next to him on the seat before opening his menu. I watched as he trailed his fingers through his short hair, smoothing out the indents left by his hat, and couldn’t help wondering if it was as soft as it looked.
    “Something like that,” I responded distractedly, my fingers twitching with the desire to touch him.
    Thankfully Betty saved me from having to come up with any other witty repartee as she shuffled back to our table with our drinks. The steaming cup of coffee that she set down in front of me was a God send, and I eagerly wrapped my fingers around the hot mug.
    “You folks ready to order?” she asked, once again retrieving the stubby pencil from her hair and pulling her notebook from the pocket of her apron.
    “Umm...” I stalled, flipping over the menu, ignoring the way it stuck to my fingers and smelled of imitation maple syrup, and picked the first thing my eyes landed on. “I’ll have the French dip with fries.”
    “Chicken fried steak, eggs over easy, sour dough toast,” Holbrook said quickly, efficiently.
    I wonder if he fucks the same way , my mind piped up, the suddenness of the thought making me choke.
    Flushing all the way to the roots of my hair I prayed for the ground at my feet to open up and swallow me whole, saving me from further embarrassment.
    Way to go, Genius! my inner voice cheered with no small amount of sarcasm. Somewhere deep inside the wolf was rolling her eyes at me and huffing in frustration at my lackluster seduction tactics.
    Don Juan, I am not.
    “Anything else?” Betty asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me as if she could sense the depravity of my thoughts.
    Trying not to choke on my tongue I just shook my head, blushing even more at Holbrook’s questioning look.
    Someone just shoot me now.
    “I’ll put