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"Missed you, Court," he said, his husky whisper sending shivers down my spine.
"Missed you too," I replied, my words coming out breathlessly and filled with unspoken passion.
After a lingering moment, he pulled away, grabbing my suitcase with one hand while the other remained entwined with mine. "Ready to go?" he asked, his tone laced with an excitement that matched my own.
"Ready as I'll ever be," I answered, reassuringly squeezing his hand. He responded with a knowing smile, pulling me toward the jet.
As we took off, leaving Laramie behind, I nestled into my seat, Brad's hand never leaving mine. We shared a comfortable silence, the hum of the plane's engine providing a soothing backdrop to our thoughts.
"So," Brad finally broke the silence, his voice filled with curiosity, "tell me everything."
I shifted in my seat, my heart pounding in my chest as I pulled out the envelope containing the photos and note from my bag. Handing them over to Brad, I watched as his eyes scanned the images, his brows furrowing.
"These were in the package," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Brad nodded, continuing to examine the photos. The silence in the jet was heavy, filled with tension and unanswered questions.
He reached for the note, his face hardening as he read. The note was scribbled in handwriting I recognized as Nanc's.
Hey, Courtney,
I don't know if this is anything, but there's this guy who comes into the deli every day. Orders a lemon and ginger Olipop with his lunch and sits at the same spot, always facing the Rosedale building.
Something about him seems off. He steps outside often, taking photos with his phone aimed at your old workplace. Then he comes back in and spends hours pretending to read the newspaper with his earplugs in, but I can tell he's just watching the building.
I've been following the news about the Rosedale crew, and it got me thinking, could he be involved?
Remember when you used to order lunch for your office events? You'd occasionally include a lemon and ginger Olipop. It struck me as odd because we hardly ever sell those, especially not for delivery. But for a few days several months ago, that drink was included in your orders.
I don't know if this means anything, but I thought you should know.
Stay safe, Courtney.
Nanc
His eyes flickered up to meet mine, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "Courtney, this is...this is something, and the guy in the image is definitely Clint Tyree."
"Yes, and it would be easy for Nanc to figure out that I was at the University of Wyoming. She probably asked someone there at Rosedale about me."
Brad nodded, "Yep, I think I heard Chase explaining to her you were no longer with Rosedale and that you were leaving to live out your dream by going back to school."
I swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "I know, Brad. That's why we need to figure out what's going on. I never liked the man when he was helping with the grant. He always wanted me to come to work with him and move to Seattle, where he was from."
Brad briefed me about the discovery of bugs at the Rosedale office. He explained that they had seized the opportunity during the Vandenburg video conference to instill fear in anyone listening. Then Brad concluded by clarifying that Vanderburg had failed to mention that the full truth would be delayed due to the lengthy process of scheduling the witness's deposition and researching want was disclosed. "To put it simply," he said, "we disclosed only the information we wanted the perpetrator to know in hopes it would smoke him or her out."
I reclined into the headrest, my thoughts whirling from the recent news. After that, we found ourselves submerged in a quiet moment, the drone of the airplane's engine pervading the space. A heavy breath escaped me, my heart pounding against my ribs. Feeling my nervousness, Brad gently squeezed my hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles on my skin.
The jet's descent into Cody was swift, and the sight of the city lights twinkling below us filled me with a mixture of nostalgia and elation. I could hardly contain my excitement as the wheels touched down on the runway. A familiar figure was waiting for us when we exited the plane.
"Miss Courtney, Mr. Brad," Jedediah greeted us, his voice as gravelly as ever. He was a sturdy man, his face weathered from years of ranch work. But his eyes held a warmth that had always comforted me.
"Jedediah," I said, embracing him briefly. He laughed heartily, slapping Brad on the back in a friendly greeting. Brad's answering grin was genuine, easing the lingering tension from our flight. "Thank you for responding so quickly when I texted about us coming for the weekend and for buying some groceries for us."
"My pleasure." Jedediah tipped his Stetson.
The drive to the Circle T Ranch was a journey back in time. Moonlight bathed the landscape in a silvery glow, and the stars above were a brilliant tapestry, unhindered by city lights. The air smelled of fresh hay and pine, and the silhouettes of the mountains in the distance were a welcome sight.
The ranch house was as I remembered it—grand and inviting. The warm light spilling from the windows made it look like a beacon in the night. I was home, and Brad was with me. The thought sent a thrill through me.
Once inside, I eagerly showed Brad around. The rustic charm of the ranch was undiminished, from the worn leather couches in the living room to the family photos adorning the walls. I imagined the kitchen still smelled of the apple pies my mother used to bake before her death many years ago.
