The compounds had been built up. More than before, despite the cease-fire. Going back next month wasn’t going to be easy.As if it was ever easy.Mustering up enthusiasm was impossible.“Jack?”“Hmm?” he said, distracted by the desk full of papers. Christ, if Oliver could just do this meet and greet by himself, at least one of them could get some work done tonight. “Jack!”“Mia!” He spun. “Sorry, I got—” Jack had some expectations of how Mia would look, stepping out of her bedroom. And he’d be lying if he said those expectations were high. She was a rancher on a hardscrabble pocket of land two hundred miles from here—and she worked that land hard.Ranching life didn’t leave much time for shopping. Or dress wearing.So the version of Mia standing in the doorway to her bedroom was both expected and a sharp, shocking surprise.“Distracted,” he finished lamely.The dress, black and simple, was still wrinkled and didn’t fit. Too long at the knee and too tight at the bust.
