Читать книгу Lone Star Courtship - Mae Nunn - Страница 11

At 4:00 a.m. the lobby of the hotel was hushed. Only the squeaking of Barrett’s rubber soles against the granite floor broke the silence.

“Good morning, sir.” The concierge spoke softly.

“May I offer you some coffee?”

“Thank you, no. I consumed an entire pot in my suite hours ago.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Actually, I slept quite comfortably even considering the amount of fried food I ingested yesterday. My body clock is still adjusting to the time difference so I’ve been wide-awake and working for hours.”

“There you are, Westbrook!” a male voice boomed. Doc Moseley stood in the hotel’s grand entrance, sporting a Cowboy Cartel cap, his boots planted wide as he waved Barrett over.

“Let’s get a move on before the wind kicks up any more. The marina’s gassin’ up the Albemarle right now and the bay’s gonna be rougher than a cob pretty soon.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to reschedule?”

“Mercy, no! As long as the good Lord provides a new sunrise I’ll always pick the worst weather for fishin’ over the best weather for workin’!”

Barrett stepped into the predawn darkness and basked in the ocean breeze that whipped his hair. Although fishing would never be his first choice, he had to agree with Doc’s assessment. The majesty of the open sea had never failed to produce an intimate connection with the Heavenly Father. Childhood holidays at the seaside with teeth chattering and a body prickled with gooseflesh were the fondest of all his memories.

Just as he reached the cab of the enormous red truck with the interlocking “C” logo on the door, the darkened window slid down to reveal the passengers in the backseat.

“Good morning, Counselor,” Casey chirped, more cheerfully than she felt.

Barrett’s dark brows drew together a bit. The rest of his face remained impassive, seemingly not surprised to see her.

“Ah, so it is.”

“Casey, scoot over toward George to make room for our boy here,” Doc instructed before climbing into the cab and slamming the door, giving them no choice aside from compliance.

Manny twisted from his position behind the wheel. “G’mornin’, son,” he offered.

George followed suit with a similar greeting and handed Barrett the custom headgear they all wore. “It’s nice to have you young folks join us.”

“The pleasure is mine, sir,” Barrett answered as he took the cap and tugged it on. “It was kind of you to include me.”

“Yes, thanks for letting me tag along, too,” Casey added.

“Little lady, you know you’re always welcome to join us. But I gotta admit you coulda knocked me off my feet with a dried cow chip when you asked us to swing by for you.” Manny leveled his gaze, telegraphing that he knew she was up to something. “I’m glad you finally decided to take a day off. I don’t reckon you’ve missed a morning roundup with the crew in the ten weeks since we broke ground.”