Page 7 of Protect and Serve

“Sounds like Cody.”

“To turn the ranch into a B&B.”

Charlie frowned. “Well, that doesn’t sound like Cody.”

“With strippers.”

“With…”

“Yeah. Strippers. We do parties on the weekend for horny housewives. Bring in male dancers from Dallas. Business is pretty damn good.”

“I can imagine.”

Cade eyed him up and down. “You should come dance for us. We’re looking for a new cop.”

The fuck. “You should see me pole dance. Pretty sad.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Cade winked. “We don’t need no stinkin’ poles.”

Holy crap. This was as insane as it got. Who’da thunk—the last time he and Cade had shared a meal in a bivouac—that one day he’d be asking Charlie to strip for him? His buddies on the other side must be laughing their asses off.

At the reminder, his humor faded. “It really is nice to be home. Weird to be calling Snake Gully home, but there you have it.”

“I know. It can be tough coming back and adjusting to a normal life after everything we’ve been through. But it’s worth it. What you need is to find yourself a good woman to help you settle in.”

Why Cade’s sister popped into Charlie’s mind was a mystery. Or maybe not.

“There’s plenty of time for that, I suppose.”

“I suppose. Well, I’m damn glad to see you. What do you say, after you finish your burger, we head out to the ranch for dessert?”

“Dessert?”

Cade grinned. “My fiancée is a phenomenal baker.”

“Oooh. Excellent. Better keep hold of that one.”

“I plan to.”

“Because if she’s as good as you say she is, I might have to steal her.”

Cade laughed, some carefree chuckle that said more than words. No one was stealing his Lisa from him and he knew it.

It was so wrong to be jealous, but Charlie couldn’t help it.

He could only hope he would be as lucky in love.

But somehow, he doubted it.

Chapter THREE

The phone rang just as Claire and Porsche stepped into the foyer of the ranch house.

“Can someone get that?” Lisa called from the kitchen. “My hands are full.”

“Got it,” Claire responded as she lifted the receiver. “Hello?” Annoyance rippled through her as silence crackled on the other end. They got calls like this every now and again. Sometimes they were robocalls, sometimes Mildred Grace, who called to rail about the indecent goings-on at the Stud Ranch. And sometimes, it was just some heavy breather. “Helloooooo?” And yeah. She could hear him, vaguely, but there he was. Breathing. In and out. In and out. Too bad she didn’t have her whistle. She slammed the receiver back into the cradle with a snarl. “Bastard.”

“Who was it?” Porsche asked as they made their way into the kitchen.