“I’ve seen the propaganda.” Marcus leaned against the fence post and stared down the snorting bull on the other side of the barbed wire. “This is not the kind of work I signed on for.”
“It’s protection,” Cutter said. “That’s what our name says. Investigation and Protection.”
“Nothing in there about babysitting.” And nothing like the assignment he and Cutter Martin had just completed. They’d gone into Mexico and located and rescued a teenage girl who’d disappeared while on vacation with her family.
Turned out she’d been kidnapped and was being sold into sexual slavery. Bringing her home safely had rivaled the exhilaration of completing a successful mission as a Navy SEAL. Babysitting Lance Harper’s kids while they played in a historic playground wouldn’t.
But Marcus wasn’t a naval commando anymore. He might as well get used to that. He missed the military life a lot more than he’d expected, but he had a new goal. And if it took babysitting to reach it, so be it. Besides, a man couldn’t ask for a better boss than Cutter.
“So when do I acquire the Hollywood horrors?”
“Not until next Saturday, but since the festival is only open on weekends, I figured you’d want to tour the grounds by yourself this weekend to get the lay of the land.”
Marcus nodded. That was a definite. He’d never go out on assignment without adequate fact gathering. His mind jumped back to the mission he’d faced just before he’d finished his last tour of duty. Men’s sweat and fetid earth had clogged his nostrils. Danger had hung in the heavy air like a blanket of oppressive smoke. He’d always had a sixth sense for danger. That night was no exception.
He shook his mind to clear it before he became lost in the past. “Is that it?”
“Yeah, except that Linney wants to know if you’ll join us for dinner tonight.”
“Pasta?”
Cutter laughed. “How’d you guess?”
Easy. It was practically the only thing she could cook. Well, that and canned soup. Not that Cutter cared. The guy was so in love with his new wife that he lit up like a round of firepower when she walked into the room.
Marcus had known that feeling once. It had turned on him and bitten him in the…No. Who was he kidding? He’d never had the kind of relationship Cutter and Linney had. Not much chance he ever would after the way his ex had stomped him into the mud.
Horses and cattle. Maybe even a good dog. Those were things you could count on. That was one of the real advantages of working for Cutter. When they weren’t on duty for the company, they worked on his ranch, the Double M.
“If that’s it, I’ll go back to hauling hay.”
“That’s it.” Cutter swatted at a worrisome horsefly. “I’ll go with you. Got to work up a pasta appetite by seven.”
ODORS OF FUNNEL CAKES, roasting meats and frying fish and chips greeted them the moment they stepped from their car among dozens of other arriving festival patrons. Dani’s mouth watered in spite of the pastries and coffee they’d stopped for en route.
Celeste and Katie hurried ahead of her, their tennis shoes kicking up dust along the well-traveled path that maneuvered among row upon row of parked cars and pickup trucks.
The air sparked with chatter, laughter and an electric excitement among the festival goers, many dressed in elaborate costumes.
They were greeted at the gate by a jovial, middle-aged man dressed in a short red and green skirt over tights. From his looks, he might have ushered them into the king’s court a century ago. Dani was starting to catch the spirit in spite of her earlier reservations.
Once inside what appeared to be the city walls, activity increased dramatically, and her imagination was spurred by the line of fascinating shops and concessions and the number of people in creative costumes. Old England had never had it so good.
Weirdly, she had a strange tingle of anticipation dancing inside her as if something big was going to happen to her this weekend. Maybe Bethany’s friend would turn out to be a winner.
Forget it. There wasn’t a man alive who could tolerate a woman psychic for long, and she would not put herself and Celeste through another divorce to prove that point.
She hurried to keep up with the girls, then slowed to gawk at a voluptuous young woman bulging out of an outfit that consisted mostly of chain mail. The woman posed for a whiskered guy in an Astros cap who was all but salivating as he snapped her picture.
Dani turned to catch sight of Katie and Celeste walking toward a nearby dress shop. They sashayed past a hunky cowboy and disappeared inside. The guy looked out of place. Not because of his worn jeans, scuffed boots and black Stetson. After all, this was Texas. But the recalcitrant grimace on his craggy face made it clear he wasn’t joining in the revelry that surrounded him.
He looked up and caught her staring at him. An unwelcome burn crept to her cheeks as he tipped his hat and traded the frown for a devastating smile. Oh, well, he was probably used to females admiring his blatant virility.
Head high and looking straight ahead, she strode right past him. She followed the sound of girls’ giggling to the back of the shop. Celeste was holding up a low-cut sapphire-blue gown. The padded cups at the top of the lacing could hold a set of double Ds. Celeste had trouble filling out her training bra.
“You’re a little too young to go the wench route,” Dani said.
“You could wear it, Ms. Baxter,” Katie said. “You’d be hot!”
“We’re going to a wedding, not a bawdry bash.” At least she hoped that was the case; Dani had traded hot for sophisticated several years ago, at the same time she’d swapped her cheating husband for single parenthood and a position with Duran Muton.
“How about these?” Dani said, moving to a rack of pastel-hued, ankle-length dresses with puffy sleeves and high-buttoned necklines.
Celeste scrunched her nose as if she smelled a skunk. “I’d look like a kid.”
“You are a kid.”
“Ooh, look at this,” Katie called, her gaze riveted on a handkerchief-layered skirt of various hues of blue and green, topped with a white peasant blouse. It hung on the highest rack, slightly out of reach.
A youthful clerk dressed in knee-high black boots, tights and a clingy, crimson blouson appeared from between the garment racks. Hooking the hanger, she retrieved the outfit so they could get a better look.
“We’re attending a dinner tonight on the grounds and a Renaissance wedding tomorrow morning,” Dani explained. “Do you have any suggestions as to what would be considered appropriate attire?”
“Just about anything from the period will go for the dinner. People get very daring and inventive at those affairs. But fairies, definitely fairies for the girls for the wedding. You’re both so petite. You’ll be adorable nymphs.”
“Adorable?” Celeste groaned.
“You just uttered the kiss of death,”
