Chapter 2

"They're late."Blair Hughes stared down at her sister as Gretta took another swig of her drink, seemingly oblivious to the fact the sun was already heading toward the horizon and Corbin and Walker still hadn't arrived.

Gretta waved Blair's comment off as if she thought Blair was crazy. "Of course, they're late. They're a bunch of fly-boy wankers." She grinned. "Or best friends with one. Booker isn't here, yet, either. But I'm sure they're on their way. Sun's going down. They can't fly forever."

Blair hitched out a hip. "Those daft prats can fly by using the instruments. And they have night ratings. You know that. Nothing stops them unless they have a rider along with a hint of common sense. Even then, it's rare. Bloody arseholes, the lot of them."

"And yet, they're utterly peng."

"If you like that rugged soldier nonsense they've got going on."

Gretta laughed, but Blair didn't miss the slight flush on her sister's cheeks, or the way her mouth kicked into a smile at just the suggestion of Corbin's name. Gretta was ridiculously in love with the man, and it showed.

Not that Blair blamed her. Corbin was handsome and sexy, and shared her sister's passion for guns. Obsession, if she were being honest. He'd also traveled all the way to London to ensure Gretta didn't get her arse filled full of lead when Blair had sent her a series of cryptic texts five months ago that had resulted in Blair's journey to the States.

And her subsequent descent into insanity that revolved around Corbin's best friend, Walker Pierce. One of the wanker pilots Gretta had mentioned, and the guy destined to be Blair's undoing.

How she'd allowed one man to get under her skin this much was a mystery. Sure, Walker found a way to spend all of his free time with her, but he hadn't once tried to kiss her. Or take their relationship to the next level. Granted, neither had she, but… She'd wanted to. Had been dropping the kind of hints that would give any other man a bloody concussion.

But Walker took them all in stride, maintaining that annoying distance that had her questioning if she was the only one who'd fallen. Who was certain this was much more than idle attraction.

Hell, that this was love.

Which was crazy. Since when did people fall in love without any kind of physical connection, first? It was an antiquated notion, and proof she needed to get back to London, and back to her old life.

The fact she wasn't sure she even wanted to return complicated things. The reason she'd come to West Yellowstone to begin with. True, she'd chalked it up to finally reconnecting with her sister — mending that bridge she never should have burned. And the fact she'd been healing from a gunshot wound had presented the perfect opportunity. A few months' worth of medical leave she'd gladly taken. But after the fallout from Gretta's inclusion in Blair's last mission — getting blacklisted because Gretta had put everything on the line to save Blair's backside and bring down their traitorous ex-director Oliver Poppy — picking up her previous career had definitely lost its appeal. Blair just wasn't sure if it was because of job or her feelings for Walker.

The ones he didn't seem to reciprocate.

God, she needed to get a grip. Take the giant hint he'd been giving her and just move on. She'd always excelled at being an agent. That's where she needed to focus her energy. And, if she could find a way to actually clear Gretta's name and erase that damn scarlet letter staining her file, maybe she'd finally find the peace she'd been searching for all her life. A sense of home coming she hadn't felt until she'd met Walker.

Sure, it had been a whirlwind adventure at first, and she wasn't so naive she hadn't realized that adrenaline could manifest as other feelings. Trick her into thinking there was more to their initial attraction because he'd been instrumental in saving her life. But once she'd stepped off the plane and integrated into Gretta's world, she'd realized it had been so much more than that.

She cared. Really cared. And it was killing her not knowing if he felt the same.

Irritation bled through the ache in her heart, and she waved her fingers at Gretta. "Keys."

Gretta blinked, staring at Blair's hand before dragging her gaze up to her face. "Keys?"

"For your four by four."

"Are you high? The gents haven't even gotten here?—"

"I know. That's why I want the keys. I'm sure Walker will drive you and Corbin home, but I…"

How did she convey that she simply couldn't wait any longer? That the prospect of facing another night at Walker's side, only to have him drop her off and wish her a good night, might make her do something she regretted. Like punching him in his annoyingly handsome face.

Or finally pouncing on him.

Which would either be a shining success or her worst nightmare. What could speed up her departure if it all went pear shaped. And pathetic or not, she'd rather have another couple weeks of memories with him, than leave because she'd been wrong.

And there was that part where she was still trying to make it up to Gretta for not standing behind her when she'd gotten in shit for that terrorist mission gone south and their boss, Heathcliff Montgomery, had suspended her. Leaving early would add another slight to their relationship. And after finally putting much of their past behind them, Blair didn't want to lose her sister's faith, again. And with how edgy she was tonight, she couldn't trust herself not to let the agent in her loose as soon as Walker ambled in. Better she leave, cool off, and face him tomorrow — when her damn libido wasn't kicking at her like a bass drum.

Gretta pushed to her feet, digging into her pocket for the keys. She held them out without actually giving them to Blair. "They'll be here."

"That's not why I need to leave."

Gretta sighed, then placed the keys in Blair's hand. "If you're tired of waiting for Walker to make a move, just take the initiative. You are an MI6 agent, yeah? Taking charge is literally what you do for a living."

"I'm aware of my duties as an agent. And if it were anything else, I'd jump, but…" She kicked at the dirt, hating the fact she'd actually dressed up for the jerk. That instead of shorts and some trainers, she was sporting a sundress and sandals — what she'd hoped would have him looking at her the way she knew she stared at him. "I'd really like to stay these last two weeks before reality intervenes."

"And making a move on Walker would prevent that, how, exactly?"

"He's Corbin's best mate. How could I stay if he turned me down?" She snorted. "Talk about awkward."

"In what universe would Walker ever turn you down? He's raving mad about you."

Blair simply stared at her sister.

Gretta took a step closer. "Remember how you were able to fly here after your surgery on a private plane instead of muscling through sitting on a commercial flight with your shoulder still swollen and hopped out on drugs?"

Blair frowned, wondering where her sister was going with this, because she thought she already knew the story. Had thanked Stone, Corbin and Walker's boss, for arranging the whole thing. "Of course, I do. I wasn't that high I don't remember."

"It wasn't Stone who organized that. Walker did."

Was her mouth hanging open? Drool dribbling down the side? Blair knew Walker had flown the aircraft, but he'd organized it, too? "Walker flew the plane?—"

"But he, also, called in more than a few favors to make it happen. Paid for it, too. Stone simply gave him the extra couple of days off to orchestrate it."

Walker had not only arranged everything, but he'd paid for it, too? And he'd never once mentioned it? "But, why? He didn't even really know me."

Gretta shrugged. "He never said, and I never asked. But something tells me he didn't pull all those strings just because Corbin was involved. Face it. The bloke's been sweet on you since the start."

"If that were true, he would have made a move, by now, instead of simply standing there, waiting."

"Corbin says he still has demons from the helicopter accident. Maybe he just needs?—"

"More time? Because I haven't got much of that left, here."

"You could stay. Permanently."

"And do what?" She laughed at Gretta's arched brow. "Help you with the gun range? You know weapons aren't my calling. But I love you for suggesting it."

"You have other options."

"Do I? Because it doesn't feel that way. Besides, if I get back in Montgomery's graces, maybe I can sway the man to talk to the Chief — do something about that blacklist." She knocked Gretta's shoulder. "So, you can come home, again, if you want."

"I am home. And the last thing I want is you messing around with Montgomery. The guy's a tosser."

"He is, but he's also my boss, and the one person who can clear your name."

"I don't care about clearing my name, or that wankstain Montgomery. Good riddance. I'm happy, here."

"I know you are. I just…"

She blew out an exasperated breath. Despite them mending most of their old wounds, Gretta was still as stubborn as a mule. And Blair knew it was pointless to argue. She'd just have to find a way to get that reprimand erased, herself. Take care of Gretta one last time. The way Blair had been doing long before their mother had overdosed when they'd been young, or when their grandmother had died and left Blair Gretta's legal guardian. What seemed to be Blair's legacy. Which meant, it was time for Blair to get a grip and start planning for her imminent return.

Blair squeezed the keys, smiling at her sister. "Thanks. And, if you end up needing a lift, just call my mobile. I'll come and get you."

"You don't have to leave. Seriously, Blair. Ignore Walker if he ever shows up and have fun with me."

Blair leaned in and gave Gretta a hug. "I just need some time to get Walker out of my head so I'm ready to go once London calls. And they will. Despite how everything went down, I know Montgomery isn't going to let me sneak away this easily. He'll want to make a spectacle of me, if nothing else. Bolster his delicate ego."

"All the more reason to tell him and MI6 to piss off."

"I think one Hughes doing that was enough. Besides, it's all I know."

"That's what I thought until I moved here and met Corbin."

"Which makes me even more jealous, now. Have fun, and give Corbin a snog for me."

"Give me a what, now?"

Blair jumped, nearly socking Corbin in the jaw when she spun, heart pounding, her muscles primed for a fight. Apparently, the couple months off hadn't lessened her responses, any. That, or she was strung so tight she was jumping at shadows.

She gave Corbin a shove. "You daft twat. I nearly turned around swinging."

Corbin held up his hands, sneaking past her to tug Gretta into a fierce hug before focusing back on her. "Snog. Daft twat. Don't you two speak English?"

"You're the one who seems to have a hard time understanding common words, not us. And you should know better than to surprise me. Next time, I might just stab you in the heart."

"And deny Gretta that opportunity in the future? That's crazy." He nodded at her hand. "Are those Gretta's keys? Please don't tell me you two ran out of coolers already?"

Blair glanced at her sister, wondering if she should lie when Gretta elbowed Corbin in the ribs.

"Blair's not feeling well. Bloody headache from all the wailing your mates call music. She thought it was best to head back to the flat — sleep it off."

Corbin frowned, and Blair knew he wasn't buying it. Not that she was surprised. The guy was shrewd, and she wasn't in the mind space to put on a believable front, yet. What she'd have to correct if she was going back to MI6 in a couple weeks.

He glanced at the keys, again, then sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that, but Gretta's SUV is buried behind three or four trucks. It could take a while to track everyone down — get them moved. But Walker parked at the back, as usual. I'm sure he'd be happy to give you a lift. Parties aren't really his style, anyway."

Blair was going to kill Corbin because she knew, by the shift of his eyes, and the slight hesitation in his voice, that this was some kind of ploy. That he really hadn't bought that she had a headache but was actively trying to ditch the party.

Ditch Walker.

And Corbin had intervened. Shot her escape plan full of holes while giving her a viable alternative — one that would make her look like a fool if she didn't accept.

Gretta didn't even try to hide her smile. "Sounds like a plan, yeah? Because Corbin's right. All those four by fours and pickups blocking me in. We'll probably be the last to leave."

Blair crossed her arms, wondering which of them to smack, first, when a throat cleared behind her, the gravelly tone sending shivers along her spine. She froze, praying she was wrong, only to curse inwardly when the bastard in question moved into view beside her, his ridiculously handsome face next to hers.

Had Walker done something with his hair? Tanned his skin a bit? Somehow gained muscle mass since she'd seen him yesterday? Because he was more gorgeous than ever, with a healthy dose of scruff lining his jaw. Those deep brown eyes boring straight into hers. And the way he filled out that black tee and jeans… She wouldn't be surprised if she died on the spot from an arousal-induced stroke.

Walker glanced at the keys in her hand, then drew his gaze up to her face. "Did Corbin just say you needed a lift?"

And just like that, any hopes of leaving undetected vanished. Wiped off the board along with her sanity. She stared at him, wondering how to answer, when he frowned, stepping over and placing the back of his hand on her forehead.

"Are you okay? Because the color just drained from your face and you're warm."

Warm? Her skin felt as if she was burning from the inside out, and he thought she was a bit warm?

"Blair?"

She blinked, finally realizing he'd asked her a number of questions, and she'd just stood there, staring. Maybe Montgomery was right to question her expertise because she definitely wasn't showcasing any of her operative skills, tonight.

Blair gave herself a mental shake, easing back slightly. Not a huge step, just enough to gain a bit of distance. Allow her lungs to inflate without pressing against his chest in the process. "I'm…"

Walker's frown intensified. "You're…"

"Headache." She waved toward the house. "Music. Sun." She groaned. Had she really just answered with single words? As if she was incapable of using full sentences?

This is what he did to her. Bypassed the intelligent part of her brain and went straight to the primitive part that wanted to strip him down and taste every inch of his skin.

His brow furrowed, but he nodded as he eased forward and slipped the keys out of her hand, along with her clutch purse. "Maybe it would be best if you didn't drive. Besides, this way you won't have to come back and pick up Bonnie and Clyde, here, because knowing Corbin, he'll shut this place down."

She blinked, trying to think up a viable argument for why she needed to drive herself, as Walker handed Gretta back her keys. Blair drew herself up, ready to spurt out the truth when he smiled and slipped her hand in his.

Forget even one-word answers. All it took was the press of his skin on hers — the warmth of his hand — and she was lost. Completely lost.

Walker stepped in close — closer than he ever had — as he leaned down until his mouth was level with hers. "You ready?"

Was he expecting her to say something? Because she was pretty sure her tongue wasn't working right. Not when she was too busy visualizing tasting his full lips. Wondering how smooth they'd feel against hers. If he'd wait for her to open her mouth or just twist it and dive inside.

Another smile, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking — why she was speechless — then he was leading them through the backyard. Around the tables and chairs, ignoring a few hoots that echoed their way, before making his way down the driveway.

Walker went to her door, holding it open for her. "Ladies, first."

She laughed. "Why, this thing rigged to blow?"

He waited until she'd strapped herself in before leaning over her. That perfect mouth within reach, again. "Always the operative. Don't you ever shut that down?"

"About as often as you shut off being a pilot. Over an hour late, today."

"And yet, it seems to be perfect timing."

"That remains to be seen. We leaving, or what?"

Walker nodded, placing her purse next to her feet before closing her door then making his way around to the driver's side. Ten seconds flat, and he had the engine idling, the stick shift jammed into reverse.

He backed up the truck, glancing at her as he started rolling forward. "You look stunning, by the way. That color really brings out the green in your eyes."

The color brought out the green in her eyes? She hadn't realized he even knew what color her eyes were. And since when did he compliment her clothes? Said she looked stunning?

She smiled, smoothing her hand down the front of her dress. "I…"

How could she say she'd worn it for him and not admit how she felt? That somewhere over the past few months she'd fallen absolutely bonkers for him and wanted nothing more than to see where it could go? If they could find the kind of forever her sister had found with Corbin.

If Walker was the reason she could move on and leave MI6 behind.

Walker chuckled. "Your head must really be bothering you because it's usually hard to shut you up."

"Wanker. I can't help it if your mates' taste in music is utter rubbish."

"My team can't be great at everything. So, you up for a bit of a drive, first? I know the perfect place to watch the last of this sunset." He arched a brow. "Guaranteed no grunge music."

Blair swallowed, wondering if she should shoot down the suggestion — save herself from that crash and burn she'd been worried about — before motioning to the road. "You'd better drive fast, then, or we'll miss the chance."

Walker paused, then pulled onto the old dirt road. "Trust me… I'm not missing anything, anymore."