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“Guess we should all be looking to the rookie for advice.” Noah offered him a chin lift of respect.
Okay, he was finished here. He didn’t need—or like—people talking him up for doing his job.
Widening his stance, he hooked his thumb in his front pocket, and out of habit, scanned the front windows and then the entrances, letting more praise for his first op roll off him.
Ross took control of the group again. “The guests will be arriving within the hour. The cocktail party kicks things off. We’ve got a short time to set up these tables so the crew can prep for the party. Then I want you in plain clothes. Suits and ties, team. You’ll be expected to be in your positions ten minutes before the party starts.”
They all nodded in understanding.
When Ross dismissed them, everyone headed for the far wall to grab the tables and start setting up.
Declan tore his focus from the snowy landscape beyond the windows. So far, the ranch activity was normal, but within the hour the place would be crawling with security risks. Wealthy people seemed to be some of the worst he’d encountered in his career, since many brought a sense of entitlement or believed they were above the law. They also got easily bored, which meant they took risks.
Noah grabbed one end of the long, heavy table and he took the other. They carried it a few feet away and extended the metal legs.
Corrine Modeen arrived just in time and stood in the middle of the room, directing them all where to place the tables. When he ducked past her, she stared at him.
Great. He thought that listening to praise for that op was bad. Now this.
Was it his imagination or was she staring at his head?
She strode his way. “I’m sorry we didn’t have a hat for you in the closet, Declan.”
“It’s fine.”
“We had no idea we needed to order a Stetson in that size.”
Noah snorted, and Declan swung his gaze to him, piercing him in a flat look that more than one person had told him was colder than a polar bear’s nuts.
His teammate didn’t get the memo. “What my sister is tryin’ to say is that we had no idea that your head would be too big for any of our hats.”
He leveled him in his stare. “Wow. How funny are you?”
Noah’s eyes creased as he chuckled. “No hard feelings, Declan. Just teasin’ ya.”
He let his lips twist at the corner with dry amusement.
Despite his annoyance with them picking on him about the size of his head, he saw the good nature of everyone on the WEST team. They were raised with morals that went above and beyond, and their characters showed true grit.
Declan knew no one meant the teasing and he wasn’t taking offense. But hewasstarting to get a complex about just how large his head was after trying on every Stetson in the closet and needing one his size special ordered.
After the tables were all set up in the places Corrine dictated, he headed back to his quarters.
The Wynton family had given him a cabin on their property to use until he got settled in Stone Pass. The quaint log structure looked rustic but had every amenity needed for a comfortable stay. He had plenty of hot water and a full kitchen, as well as a freezer full of prime Wynton beef. So far, he hadn’t gotten around to cooking any of it, but he hoped to and soon.
He washed up and stood in front of the long mirror, donning his crisp white shirt and suit pants. With his fly open, he worked at the shirt buttons, concealing the fading tan of his chest and abs he gained from working all summer as a bodyguard in California for someone who enjoyed her time lounging at the pool.
He added cufflinks and meticulously knotted his tie in the Windsor knot he preferred.
When he topped the outfit with his charcoal gray suit jacket, he gave his reflection one more cursory glance, confident that he would pass as one of the guests.
His gaze ticked upward to his head. Even if hehadthe WEST Protection hat, he couldn’t wear it undercover.
Parties weren’t his thing, but he didn’t dread it as much knowing that he was only there to keep an eye on the guests.
Checking the time, he realized he needed to step on it if he was getting to the venue on time. On the way out the door, he spotted his flask. He wasn’t going to drink on the job, but something told him to grab it anyway.
As he reached the barn again, he found the driveway was dotted with parked trucks and SUVs, each as expensive as the next. He imagined the wealthy people running out to buy vehicles to fit the theme of the weekend.
