Baby It's Cold Outside by Addison Fox Page B

glanced up to see Mick O’Shaughnessy standing in his doorway, a leather jacket slung over one shoulder and a steaming mug in the other hand. “Who the hell let you in?”
    “The ever-delightful Myrtle.”
    Far too many manners had been drilled into him—and the door stood way too open—for Walker to laugh at Mick’s description. However, Walker suspected the word “delightful” had never made it into the same sentence as the name Myrtle Driver in all the woman’s sixty-plus years.
    “She got you coffee, too?” Walker gave a dry stare at his own now cold mug, acknowledging the fact that in the decade he’d employed Myrtle, the woman had never so much as brought him a glass of tap water.
    “What can I say?” A broad, cocky grin spread across Mick’s face. “It’s damn good coffee, too.”
    “Nothing. You can say nothing.” Walker crossed the room to the small sink in the corner of his office, dumping the cold coffee and then pouring a fresh cup from the perpetually full pot he kept on the small counter next to the sink.
    After dumping in a liberal amount of sugar, he grabbed the seat next to Mick, stretched out his legs and balanced the mug on his knee. “What’s up?”
    “I finished up my runs early today. Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab a beer.”
    “I could be persuaded.” Walker thought about the work he’d drowned himself in since his morning walk with Sloan and nodded. The legal brief on his desk was his last chore of the day and it would keep. “In fact, it’s inspired. You, however, may not want to go with me once you find out I’m a traitor to the cause.”
    Mick took a sip of his coffee, his gaze speculative over the rim. “Because you’re entering the auction?”
    “Fuck.” Walker scrubbed a hand over his jaw, the day’s stubble making a satisfying scratch. “There really are no secrets in this town. How’d you find out?”
    “The note I got in study hall pretty much tipped me off.”
    “Smart-ass.”
    “It’s all anyone out at the airstrip could talk about.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “Hell no. I barely had the damn plane on the ground before Maggie was chattering in my headset. She claims she heard it from Renee who heard it herself at the diner this morning.”
    Of course. Even he wasn’t dumb enough to think he and Sloan had any privacy during breakfast. “At least she let you land.”
    “True,” Mick added drily. “She’s actually quite smart and pragmatic under that mile-long streak of gossip she’s always spouting. She’s already working on me. And then she got Darlene in on it; she harangued me some more while signing off on my paperwork.”
    “Work? There couldn’t have been much of that going on today.”
    “Other than my paperwork, I don’t think she did a lick of it. Instead, she spent the day making a list of the women who are landing in a few days’ time so she can pass out a checklist. Apparently she’s created some bachelorette scoring system and everything.”
    “Does TSA know she’s copying their names for a distribution list?”
    Mick raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
    “Shit.” Walker did another scrub with his fingers, this time over his suddenly aching temples. “What the hell have our grandmothers wrought?”
    “The apocalypse.”
    “You competing?”
    “I think I’m rearranging my sock drawer that day,” Mick drawled.
    “Now that Sloan’s in, Grier may not be far behind.”
    Mick shrugged as he lifted his coffee cup to his lips for another sip, but Walker didn’t miss the stiffening shoulders or the slightly too-casual tone. “Doesn’t mean I should give my grandmother the satisfaction of actually entering the auction.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    Mick stood and grabbed his jacket. “Come on. Let’s go.”
    A quick knock on the doorframe stopped them. “Walker. I need two minutes.”
    With a glance at Jessica, he nodded. “Sure. What’s up?”
    “More affidavits from the men on Jonas’s crew. All of