by Stacy Finz
She parked and reached for her purse on the front seat, when her heart lurched. Across the square a man in faded jeans and a green down jacket—just like Colin’s—walked toward her. But when he got closer, she realized it wasn’t Colin. Now that she got a better look, he didn’t even resemble him. Too short. Too old. And not nearly as good-looking. Anyway, it was highly unlikely that Colin would be hanging out in downtown Nugget.
Since their breakup she’d lie in bed and listen really hard for his truck to drive down Grizzly Peak on his way to work in the morning. When the wind wasn’t blowing, she could hear the sound of his engine. But it only lasted for a few seconds and then he was gone.
A blast of cold air hit her as she stepped down from her SUV. If she wasn’t mistaken another snowstorm was on its way. She hoped for Bix’s sake that it waited until he left town.
Samantha stopped shaking out an area rug over the Lumber Baron’s front porch railing and waved. Harlee checked her watch and strolled across the green to say a quick hello. Although she wasn’t feeling too social, it was better than sitting nervously in the Ponderosa waiting for Bix, since she’d come early. Normally, not much made her nervous, but she felt like her mojo had deserted her in the last few days.
“Hiya,” she said. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. How’s everything going?”
“Great.” Sam beamed. “The guy you’re meeting just called to make sure we had his room ready. Apparently he just landed.”
Jeez, did the whole town know? Of course they did, Harlee thought to herself. And she’d be willing to bet that they knew that she and Colin had broken up, too. Crazy how they had missed the biggest secret of all. But then Harlee had also been deceived, and she was a professional investigator.
“I guess I better get over there then,” she told Sam, and on impulse asked, “Any advice?”
“Colin’s a great guy, Harlee. Damn, I gotta run, the phone’s ringing and I’m the only one here.” She dashed inside the inn, taking the rug with her.
Yep, everyone knew. Worse, Harlee started visualizing Colin and Sam as a couple. He himself had said that he found her attractive. God help her, she had to stop doing this to herself. Whatever hope she had of finding true love in Colin Burke died the moment she found out the truth. Not because she believed for one millisecond that he was a killer or a getaway driver or a thug. Colin was the kindest man she knew. A man who fate had dealt an unimaginably horrible hand. It was the fact that he’d blindsided her. She could not build a foundation with someone who would withhold such a crucial part of his background. It would never work, she told herself. He knew that, so why was she having such a difficult time accepting it?
Harlee headed back across the square and let Mariah escort her to the back corner booth, away from the entrance to the bowling alley.
“So today’s the big meeting, huh?”
“Yep.” Harlee sighed. “My guess is that it won’t last long.”
Mariah leaned her hip against the banquette facing Harlee. “You’ve probably got this covered, but Sophie made me promise to tell you that you should let him do all the talking—don’t give anything away.”
Harlee smiled. It was nice to live in a town where the people had your back. “That’s the plan.”
“And, Harlee,” Mariah said as she started to walk away, “we’re all really sorry about you and Colin. You guys seemed so good together, and honestly I’d never seen him so happy. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a reconciliation.”
There wouldn’t be one, but Harlee nodded to be polite. “Thanks.”
“Break a leg, girl.”
Harlee played with her menu to kill time until a hulk of a man in a cowboy hat, Western suit jacket, and a silver belt buckle the size of an appetizer plate came into the restaurant. That had to be Bix Dearling, although a lot of men wore Western attire in the Sierra. What gave it away was the way he carried himself—part gunslinger, part I’ve got the whole world in my hands. Mariah led him to Harlee’s table and as he got closer she noticed that he’d removed his hat and his hair was coal black and his cowboy boots were monogrammed. A big “BD,” like a ranch brand, on each foot. She scooted out of the booth and stood up to shake his hand, and the man actually had the audacity to let his gaze leisurely wander over her.
“Nice to meet you.” He waited for her to sit back down, and took the opposite bench.
Mariah handed him a menu and before she could leave, he said, “What’s good here, darlin’?” which made Harlee cringe to the roots of her hair.
Then Mariah amazed the hell out of her by planting her butt next to Bix’s, opening the menu, and pointing to the filet mignon from McCreedy Ranch. It also happened to be the most expensive item at the Ponderosa. Score one for Mariah. “This is from one of our local ranchers,” she proceeded to explain. “Best beef in the state. And if you’re not driving, I strongly recommend one of our artisan cocktails. We make everything with fresh seasonal ingredients and whenever possible we use spirits from local distillers. Or, if you’d prefer, we have a number of lovely craft beers from Plumas County on tap.”
“So I guess if I just wanted a Jack and Coke that would be too common for y’all?” He slid his arm on top of the back of the booth.
“We can certainly do that for you,” Mariah said. “Although why ruin perfectly good whiskey?”
To Harlee’s surprise he let out a bark of laugher.
“Bring me whichever drink is your favorite, nothing too sweet,” he said. “And whatever the lady here wants.”
“Just coffee for me, please.” Harlee was smart enough to know she’d be no match for Bix in the drinking department. She’d known reporters who liked to ply their sources with liquor for a good story. But those journalists were all part of a bygone era now.
“All righty,” Mariah said. “I’ll give you time to look over the menu.”
When she left, Bix turned up his smile. “Well, Miss Roberts, I’ve got to tell you, you’re even prettier than your picture on the website.”
“Call me Harlee,” she said, hoping she’d make it through the meeting without smacking the guy. “And I’ll just call you Bix.”
“Sounds good to me.” He gave her a slight nod. “I’m getting the steak. How ’bout you?”
Harlee just wanted a salad, but suspected that in order to be taken seriously by Tex, she’d have to get a slab of beef too. “Steak for me as well.”
He shut his menu and motioned Mariah back over.
She brought Bix’s drink and Harlee’s coffee. “That was quick. What’ll you have?”
“Two filet mignons.”
“How do you want those cooked?”
Harlee asked for medium rare and Bix wanted “bloody.”
“Coming right up,” Mariah said.
“I didn’t have too much of a chance to look around,” Bix told Harlee. “But it seems like a nice town. Beautiful drive from the airport.”
“I hope you brought a coat.” Harlee noticed he hadn’t been wearing one when he walked in. “It looks like it might snow.”
“Yeah, I saw that on the weather. Got one in the car. So this is downtown, huh?”
“This and Main Street, where there’s a supermarket, gas station, post office, and a real estate business. But what you see is pretty much what you get.”
“I grew up in a small town, so I get it. The folks over at the airport said this is one of the original gold rush tent cities.”
“Mm-hmm,” Harlee said. “But it’s also the place where the Donner Party got stranded.” In 1846, snowbound pioneers got trapped in the snow and turned to cannibalism to survive—the event had been etched into California history.
“No shi. . . . Well, I’ll be,” he said. “Right here?”
“Not right in this spot, but down the road at Donner Lake.”
“Now isn’t that something.” He scrubbed his hand through that jet-black hair of his.
“The Lumber Baron has a lot of information about it if you’re interested.”
“Hot damn,” he said, taking a sip of his cocktail and holding it up to the light to admire the flamed orange twist garnish. “Not bad. How long have you lived here?”
“My family has owned a cabin here for forever and we’ve been coming up on vacations for years, but I only started living here full-time since November.”
“To run DataDate?” he asked, and checked her ring finger. The man really thought highly of himself.
Mariah brought their salads. “We need any refills?” She eyed his nearly empty drink.
“I’m good,” he said, and Harlee indicated that she was fine as well.
“I like what you’ve done with the company,” he told Harlee after Mariah left. “My sister certainly sings your praises. Before you, the last jackass she dated cost me a bundle.”
Harlee didn’t ask why, even though she burned with curiosity. “Thank you.”
“You bring your P&L statement?”
She did a double take. “I’m not opening my books to you.”
Now it was his turn to look surprised. “Darlin’, you ever sell a business before?”
“Oh . . . uh . . . I wasn’t aware that’s what you had in mind. I figured this was just an informational meeting.”
“I want information, I use the phone,” he said, looking partly annoyed and partly amused. “I’ll need to see your financials, balance sheets, and tax returns before I make an offer, but I’ll give you a letter of intent to buy, if it’ll make you feel better.”
Whoa, this was moving way faster than Harlee had ever anticipated and she felt extremely ill prepared. She’d only started the business a few months ago and didn’t have an accountant, let alone balance sheets.
“Can I ask you something, Bix?”
“Shoot.”
“Why are you even interested in my business? You run one of the largest private security firms in the country. You can replicate what DataDate does in a heartbeat, but why would you want to when the big money is in investigating corporate espionage, class action lawsuits, and a dozen other things I can think of off the top of my head?” She hadn’t divulged anything that Bix Dearling didn’t already know.
And just to prove it, he grinned. Big. “You’re right. My guess is you barely clear fifty thousand a year.”
If Harlee grossed thirty thousand this year, she’d be dancing in the streets.
“But you’ve got this trust thing going on,” he continued. “Women take one look at my brother and me and we’re exactly the guys they should avoid like a bad case of the clap. No way are they coming to us to filter out the players, because we are the players. On the other hand, they take one look at you and those big baby blues, and they see their savior.”
“So basically you need a face?”
“Basically we need a face.” He nodded.
“I still don’t see why you’d even bother with this kind of penny-ante business.”
Mariah appeared with their steaks and they both stopped talking. “We all good here?”
“We’re definitely good,” he said. “But what would make me great, darlin’, is another one of those cocktails. How about you, Harlee?”
“No, thanks,” she said.
Mariah gave her an approving nod and said, “I’ll be back in a jiff.”
Bix cut into his meat, seemed satisfied that it oozed red, and said, “Back to your question. We’re not planning to run individual background checks. That’s just nuts. You and DataDate are about to become an app. With one tap of a finger, a gal can run a guy through all the databases you check by hand. Of course there will be a monthly subscription fee for the privilege.”
Harlee sat back against the red pleather upholstered seat. Genius. The idea was freakin’ genius. “Why are you telling me this? I could do it myself.”
“Yeah? You got the start-up cash for the software this is gonna take? For the marketing and the distribution?” Clearly a rhetorical question.
“I know people,” Harlee said, and shrugged, trying to play it cool.
“Yeah, darlin’, you know me.”
His second cocktail magically appeared on the table. Mariah, obviously sensing that the deal was going down, made herself scarce. Chief Shepard, not so much.
“That the law over there?” Bix nudged his chin at a stool where Rhys sat, watching them in the back-bar mirror. “He your boyfriend or something?”
“No. He’s the husband of the owner of the Lumber Baron. So I wouldn’t make any moves on her if I were you.” The comment prompted a chortle. “How did you know Chief Shepard’s the law?” Rhys always wore plain clothes.
“We all look the same,” he said. “Why does he keep glancing over here like he’s worried I’ll eat you up?”
He’s looking after me, because that’s what people do in this town. “I don’t know. He probably wants to meet you.” She figured the lie would appeal to Bix’s Texas-sized ego. “He’s a former Houston narcotics detective, so he knows about your work in Dallas.”
“Well, call him over.”
Harlee walked to the bar, pretty sure that Bix was checking out her ass. At least Bix knew he was a dog. She kind of liked that about him. When she brought Rhys back to the table, Bix stood up, shook the chief’s hand, and the two spent a few seconds sizing each other up the way men do.
“Nice town you’ve got here,” Bix said.
“We like it.”
They talked a little while about Texas, law enforcement, and other assorted topics they had in common. Rhys made sure to tell Bix that the pregnant woman running the Lumber Baron was his wife. Then Rhys patted Harlee’s shoulder and said, “I’ll leave y’all to your business.”
As soon as Rhys left, Bix said, “So, you and I gonna make a deal?”
“I want to be straight with you,” she said. “I’m a journalist between jobs right now. DataDate is how I make my living. To someone like you, it’s a modest living. But I can’t afford to give the company away. And the truth is, Bix, I only started this business in earnest a few months ago. I don’t have all the financial statements you want. I haven’t even filed my quarterly taxes yet and have sort’ve been running things by the seat of my pants. But I can certainly show you what I have.”
“Fair enough. You want to drop the paperwork off at the Lumber Baron? I could look it over and we can talk money before I leave.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
“Say we do work something out. How would you feel about moving to Dallas to work in the firm and help us get this app off the ground?”
Harlee was flabbergasted. She hadn’t been expecting a job offer. To be honest, she hadn’t been expecting any offer. It was a lot to contemplate. But it would solve a plethora of problems, including the big one of staying employed. It would also get her out of Nugget and away from Colin, giving Harlee that clean break she wanted. At the same time, however, it would be putting her newspaper dreams on hold.
“We could talk about it,” she said. “In the meantime, I’ll bring over what I have.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Bix polished off the rest of his cocktail. “I’m thinking I’d like to mosey around this square a bit and maybe drive to that Donner Lake you talked about. But I should be back at the hotel in a couple of hours. I was thinking of going to Reno for a late dinner. Any chance you’d be interested in mixing a little pleasure with business?” He lifted his brows and stopped short of actually waggling them.
The man was a complete hound, but he was a charming one. A cross between a wolf and a Labrador retriever. “Nope,” Harlee said.
“I didn’t think so.” Rather than act snubbed, he seemed amused. “Then we’ll be in touch.”
“Yes, we will,” she said. But first she had to make the call she’d been putting off. The call that would determine her future.
Chapter 24
Colin sat outside the barbershop, watching Harlee leave the Ponderosa. He didn’t want her to see him, so he crouched down in his truck, hiding. The simple reason: He was ashamed. Asha
med of keeping the truth from her, which in his view was the same as lying. And ashamed of not being good enough for her.
He’d never intended to rob that liquor store. He had nothing to do with killing those innocent people. And Colin hadn’t known the two teens he’d been drinking with that night were even capable of such violence. Still, he’d spent the formative years of his life behind bars, mixing with lowlifes. He had no bachelor’s, or even an associate’s degree, just a junky GED from prison. And he couldn’t even take Harlee to a restaurant without losing his shit.
Colin knew she was better off without him, but just seeing Harlee made him double over in pain with yearning for her. God, he loved her so much he could feel it in every pore of his skin. And that’s why he had to let her go. She deserved everything good, especially a man she could be proud of.
He watched her drive off in her Pathfinder, wondering how the meeting went. Soon enough he’d find out, because everyone in Nugget would be spreading the details. That’s the way the townsfolk here rolled. And yet he didn’t believe for one second Harlee had told anyone, not even Darla, about his past. She might be a reporter, but she wouldn’t do him that way.
He got out of his truck and went inside the barbershop, catching Darla and Wyatt in a lip lock. They pulled apart and Darla’s eyes grew round with surprise.
“You look awful,” she said.
“Thanks. Got time to give me a trim?”
“Honey, you need more than a trim. What happened to your eyes? They’re all swollen.”
“Allergies,” he muttered, and wished she’d shut the hell up. At least his hair wasn’t fuchsia.
Wyatt tried to run interference by asking questions about Sophie and Mariah’s house. When would it be finished? Hadn’t they lucked out on the weather? Blah, blah, blah. Couldn’t a man get an effing haircut without all the damn chitchat?
Darla snapped a cape around his neck and practically pushed him to the shampoo bowl. Wyatt said something about being late for duty, gave Darla a peck on the cheek, and headed out.