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I heard something ding in the distance, and Brad quickly shifted. I groaned as he moved off the bed and padded to where his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. Watching him intently as he studied the screen of his phone.
Then, the expression on his face softened. "It's just Giuseppe wanting to make sure we made it here to the Circle T in one piece. So I just told him everything went as planned."
"Come back here. I'm cold," I giggled, propping myself up on my elbow.
"Do you want me to close the window?"
"No, leave it open. I love the feel of the night air," I replied, snuggling deeper into the quilts.
Brad nodded, his gaze lingering on the moonlit landscape for a moment before he turned and ambled back to the bed. His silhouette, framed by the moon's silvery glow, looked almost ethereal.
He slipped under the covers, his warmth immediately seeping into me. I nestled into his side, my head resting on his chest. His arm wrapped around me, pulling me closer, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my back.
"Better?" he asked, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.
"Much better," I replied, my words muffled against his chest. I could feel his chuckle more than I heard it, a gentle vibration against my cheek.
But tonight, it wasn't just the comforting sounds of the ranch that were easing me into a peaceful state. It was also Brad's steady breathing, his warmth, his presence. Knowing that he was here with me, we were finally together after months apart.
As I closed my eyes, my hand still resting over Brad's heart, I felt a sense of contentment enveloped in Brad's arms and the quiet Wyoming night.
Chapter Six
Brad
As I ambled down the hall, the tantalizing scent of brewing coffee and sizzling bacon wafted to me, sparking a warm memory of our idyllic trip to Yosemite. I trailed the fragrance, stepping into the kitchen where Courtney was, humming a cheerful tune as she busied herself with breakfast.
"Morning, Brad," she greeted with a small smile, not turning from the stove. "Coffee's ready."
"Thanks, Court," I replied, reaching for the pot and pouring myself a cup. The aroma was intoxicating, stirring a deep fondness for the woman in front of me. "Smells like the best breakfast in town."
Her chuckle rang out in the room, warming me more than my coffee could. "You always were a flatterer."
Her words, though light-hearted, echoed in the room, heavy with the weight of our current reality. Despite the picture of domestic tranquility we painted, we couldn't escape the grim truth. Yet, seeing her there, so absorbed in this moment of normalcy, a pang of sadness pulled at my heartstrings. Not wanting to disturb her, I quietly retreated from the kitchen, heading towards the living room with my coffee.
The worn leather couch in the rustic Circle T Ranch great room provided an anchor in the midst of my whirling thoughts. I held the photograph Courtney had shown me last night, the face of Clint Tyree staring back at me. He was older than the rest of us—me, Mitch, Chase, Guy, Ryder, and Daniel—during our college years. Clint was intelligent, always eager to lend his brains for cash, writing papers for other students. He was one of the original minds behind Rosedale, but when we refused to move the company to Seattle, he struck out on his own.
As I thought about how our relationship had changed, I remembered that Clint used to be friendly but slowly became distant. He used to call and visit us often, but then he started doing it less and less until he stopped completely. Looking back, I realize that there was a growing problem between us that he may have seen as a betrayal.
Clint, who was previously an integral part of our team, had been hired to help write the grant for the prestigious Golden Key Project in the short term. He had effortlessly fit into his new role and even spearheaded applying for the project's grant. However, when he abruptly departed due to a reported family emergency, it sparked suspicion among us. His sudden departure affected our team dynamics and left us scrambling to complete the grant application, which our financial future greatly depended on.
I now suspected that the man we once trusted completely might be a threat to us. His ghostly presence seemed to be influencing our current situation. I considered that his continued anger towards us for not moving to Seattle years ago could be motivating his current actions. Yet, I couldn't envision him murdering or kidnapping someone.
Courtney interrupted my thoughts by informing me that breakfast was ready. She sat beside me on the couch with two plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in her hands. We ate our meal silently, savoring the delicious smells from the food and the leather couch.
"Clint," Courtney's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes fixed on the photograph between us. "I never did like him. He was always creepy, especially at Rosedale's office." The discomfort was evident in her eyes, her memories casting a long shadow on the man we were trying to understand. After a moment, she continued, "He wanted me to go with him to Seattle, to work for him. I never told you or the others. I didn't want to create any tension."
Her words painted a different picture of Clint, one that didn't align with the man I knew from college. I shared my confusion, my words hanging in the air, adding another layer of complexity to the mystery we were grappling with.
Courtney's expression turned thoughtful; her gaze distant. "Do you think we should reach out to Nanc? She might have more to tell us." But her concern was clear in her next breath, "I wouldn't want to put her in danger, though."
"We should let Giuseppe and Chase handle Nanc," I suggested. Their experience and skills were our best bet. "They know what they're doing." It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was the best we had.
At noon, the grandfather clock located in the living room corner chimed, bringing us back to reality from our deep thoughts and discussions. We had been immersed in our theories and guesses all morning, creating a grave atmosphere in the rustic ranch house.
"We need some fresh air," I said, echoing the sentiment she had voiced moments earlier. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a small smile. Courtney nodded, the resolve in her eyes matching my own.
"Fresh air, huh?" Courtney's voice held a note of teasing as she turned to me, her eyes sparkling with a light that hadn't been there moments ago. "You sure you're not just trying to avoid talking about Clint?"
