I pulled the Beetle into Tiny’s graveled parking lot and looked around to see which cars I recognized. Sue’s SUV was parked at the front of the lot, and there were a couple of rigs I recognized from the various construction sites I’d worked on over the summer.
I didn’t spot Wade’s hybrid sedan, and I felt a guilty rush of relief. I was far too preoccupied with Blake Weston, and what he was doing in Pine Ridge, to deal with my sometime-boyfriend, City Councilman Wade Montgomery.
I walked through the door, stopping to let my eyes adjust to the dim light of the tavern.
Tiny’s was a neighborhood watering hole that had been here as long as I could remember. When I was a kid, it was a mysterious place where only the grown-ups were allowed, and we all yearned to see what was inside.
Now I knew it was just a local tavern with stools covered in brittle red vinyl, mismatched chairs, and scarred wooden tables. It smelled of beer and hot grease, and served the best chicken fingers I’d ever tasted.
Sue waved to me from a table near the so-called dance floor—a few square feet of light-colored wood set into the dark floorboards, with an old-fashioned jukebox next to it. Friday and Saturday nights there might be a few couples dancing, but tonight the floor was deserted.
She hooked a thumb in the direction of the bar. “Figured you wanted chicken and microbrew,” she said, “so I already ordered for us.”
I nodded my agreement. Sue knew me well. “How much do I owe you?”
She shook her head. “I had a good day, you can catch it next time.”
I gave her a wide-eyed look. “It must have been good for you to pick up a check, Gibbons. What gives?”
She chuckled. “What, you don’t think I can pick up a check now and again? I am wounded, I tell you. Wounded.”
“I helped you set up your computer, remember? Got the bookkeeping program running? I’ve seen your bank accounts, woman. I know you’re not exactly rolling in dough.”
She nodded. She was one of the few people in Pine Ridge who’d seen what I could do with a computer. My boss, Barry Hickey, was another. Mostly, however, I’d left that part of my life in San Francisco and I didn’t talk about it.
“So, what does a good day mean at Doggy Day Spa?”
Sue grinned, relishing the delay. “I have a new regular,” she said, “and she tips well!”
“Really? Who?”
“Astrid McComb. Remember I told you she brought in an adorable Yorkie a couple weeks back?”
I nodded.
“Well, today she showed up with the Yorkie again—said he just loved coming to see me.” She preened a little, then continued, “But she also had a pair of Old English sheepdog puppies. Said she thought they were more appropriate for the castle.”
“That’s one way to choose a dog, I suppose,” I said, sarcasm dripping.
“It’s not like that,” Sue said. “She was looking for another dog, and she fell in love with these two. Couldn’t decide between them, so she got ’em both.
“Anyway,” she continued, “she brought them both in for grooming today and told me she wanted a standing appointment every week.”
“Nice.”
“Even better was the tip she left. More than paid for tonight’s dinner.” She paused and glanced back at the bar. “Which, by the way, looks like it’s ready.”
Katie, the barmaid, brought the steaming baskets to our table along with a couple frosty mugs of microbrew. I felt the heat radiating from the food, and quickly decided I could give it a few minutes to cool down.
Sue looked at me, wiping a drop of foam from her lip. “You installed that tracking program, but I still don’t understand what it really does. Can we go over that again?”
Sue’s conversations were often a roller-coaster ride of subject changes and non sequiturs. Her thoughts raced ahead of her words, and she dove headlong into a new subject without transition.
This time she’d done a U-turn, back to her computer system. A few months earlier I had cleaned up some software issues, and put tracking and security software in place. I’d given her the Samurai Security standard instruction lecture when I was finished, but she still had a lot to learn.
I launched into an explanation of what the various programs did, but I dialed it back within a couple minutes, as I saw her eyes glaze over. “Sorry,” I said. “Sometimes I forget I don’t do that anymore.”
Sue eyed me with a troubled look. “Yeah, but you sure sound like you still could. Why don’t you? It’s got to be a heckuva lot more lucrative than being a plumber.”
“Apprentice plumber,” I corrected, trying to steer the conversation away from my previous profession. “I still have more than a year before I can get my certification. And that is assuming I even pass the exams.”
Sue rolled her eyes. “You, worried about exams? Puhleeese, Miss Graduated-From-One-of-the-Toughest-Schools-on-the-Planet. You can pass any exam you want.”
I shrugged. “Maybe so.” To tell the truth, I was proud of the computer science degree from Caltech, and the math and science did help with some of my plumbing class work.
But I had learned the hard way that nothing guaranteed success—in academic affairs, or business affairs.
Which brought me back to Blake, and his presence in Pine Ridge.
Why was he here?
chapter 3
Unfortunately, I was about to get an answer from the inimitable Mr. Weston himself.
Not that I expected to see Blake in a local dive like Tiny’s. He should have been in Portland at a white-tablecloth restaurant with an impressive wine list, not at a tavern where every dish starts with fried and the beverage choices are bottle or draft.
Yet there he was, walking through the door of Tiny’s with Chad and Astrid McComb, the three of them yak-king like old friends.
I searched my memory, wondering if Blake had ever mentioned Chad or Astrid. However, most of what I remembered of my conversations with Blake centered around Samurai Security—or topics I couldn’t think about without cringing—and I didn’t remember any reference to the McCombs.
“Earth to Neverall,” Sue said, snapping her fingers in my face. “You still with us, Georgie?”
I turned to look back at Sue. She was staring at me, her forehead furrowed with concern. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Really.” I picked up my beer and took a sip to cover my distraction.
I felt as if I was being watched, and not by Sue. Did I really think Blake Weston even remembered my name five minutes after I fled San Francisco, much less three years later? Not likely.
“Who’s the hunk?” Sue asked, glancing behind me.
“What hunk?” I stalled, pretending I didn’t know exactly who she was talking about.
“The one with Astrid and her husband,” she replied. “The one that’s checking you out.”
“Likely story,” I said. “Nobody checks out anybody in Tiny’s. You’ve got this place confused with the Meet Market.” I named the singles’ hangout a few miles west. “That’s where you go to check people out.”
“Yeah? Well, he’s definitely headed this way.”
“Maybe he’s checking you out,” I said. “Ever think of that?” I leaned over my food, wishing my hair was long enough to hide my face, but the practical low-maintenance cut left me exposed.
Sue shook her head. “Definitely focused on you,” she said.
I refused to turn around. I knew who it was. What was I going to say? Hi, Blake. How’ve you been since you stole my business and destroyed my life?
And how would I explain him to the people around me? I had left my high-tech life behind, had buried it and started over. It was history—dead and gone—and I wanted it to stay that way.
“Gee?” The voice sent goose bumps across my arms, the nickname all too familiar. “Gee, is that really you?” The incredulous tone, slightly superior, mocked me. “What are you doing here?”
Chad McComb ap
peared in my field of vision, edging around the side of our small table. “Georgiana?” he said tentatively. “This is Blake Weston, a colleague of mine from the Bay Area?” His voice rose at the end of his sentence, as though he was unsure how to introduce Blake.
“Perhaps you’ve met?” Chad sounded puzzled.
I turned slowly in my chair, aware of Sue watching my every move. There would be awkward questions later. I shoved the thought to the back of my mind, and tried to concentrate.
My lizard brain—the uncontrolled panic center that runs on pure emotion—screamed at me to run. Knock over the chair, run like hell, and put as much distance as possible between me and the taunting ghost of my old life.
Instead, I forced myself to look up at Blake with as blank a stare as I could manage. “Blake Weston? I used to know someone by that name.”
The face was the same. The self-satisfied smirk was exactly as I remembered from the last time I’d seen him, and it didn’t slip a millimeter. There was no mistaking the man who had stolen my company, and he knew it.
I held his gaze. No more running. “Blake.” I nodded. “It’s been a long time.”
Not long enough, the lizard brain screamed. I ignored it.
“Gee, nice to see you,” Blake lied. The last time we had spoken, he’d made it clear he never wanted to see me again.
“What brings you to Pine Ridge?” I asked politely. I hoped he’d answer quickly and then go away.
But judging by the sneer that passed for a smile, he was enjoying my discomfort. “I’m consulting with Chad, here”—he clapped McComb on the shoulder as though they were old friends—“on the security issues for his new place.
“You know how it goes. Someone asks for your help, you do what you can.” He shrugged with false modesty. “I’m just here to help for a few days.”
The expression on Chad’s face said there was more to the visit than Blake was telling me. I told myself I didn’t care.
“Georgiana’s working on the house, Blake,” Chad offered. “She’s part of the plumbing crew that’s trying to solve the moat issues. Barry tells me she’s invaluable.”
I held my breath. My plumbing skills weren’t enough to make me stand out, and I had sworn Barry to secrecy about the computer skills that had made me so valuable. He wouldn’t violate my trust, would he?
Chad stopped and looked from me to Blake and back again.
Blake gave me a wolfish grin. “You’re working as a plumber?” he asked with barely concealed glee.
I nodded. This was getting worse by the minute.
Sue came to my rescue. “How are the dogs, Astrid?”
Astrid brightened at the mention of her beloved pets. “Angus is getting used to the new pups,” she said. “And they are adjusting to him. In fact, just yesterday—”
“I, uh, we should let these two eat, before their food gets cold,” Chad cut in. He took Astrid’s elbow to steer her away from our table.
“See you out at the site, Georgie,” he said, nodding to me. He turned to Blake. “Shall we?”
Blake smirked at me with an expression that made it clear our conversation was far from over.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Sue exploded. “Who was that?!”
“Just somebody I used to work with.”
She snorted. “And that’s why you’re falling apart just saying hello? I don’t think so.” She leaned forward and crossed her arms on the table. “Let’s try again, Neverall. Who was that?”
“You heard Chad,” I evaded. “His name is Blake Weston.”
Sue rolled her eyes. “And who is Blake Weston? And don’t you dare tell me he’s just somebody you used to work with. I’m not buying it.”
I sighed. I was going to have to confess something.
chapter 4
“It’s a long story.”
“I have all night,” Sue said.
“I’m waiting,” she singsonged when I didn’t immediately respond.
I hesitated, unsure how much it would take to satisfy her.
Sue continued to stare at me.
She wasn’t going to let me off the hook.
“We had a, uh, relationship. It ended badly.”
“And . . . ?”
I fiddled with the cold fries in my basket, breaking one into little pieces and dropping them back into the basket. “And nothing. I left San Francisco and I haven’t seen him since.”
“Until tonight,” Sue added.
“Not exactly.” The words blurted out before I could stop myself. Relief flashed through me, surprising me with the intensity of the emotion.
Sue’s eyes widened. “When did you see him?”
I glanced around, making sure no one was within eavesdropping distance. “This morning,” I whispered. “He was at the job site.”
“He didn’t recognize you?” Her voice was incredulous. “That’s a really bad breakup.”
“He didn’t see me. I was down in the moat when he got there, and I stayed there.” I couldn’t meet her gaze while I talked, but it was comforting to unload some of the burden I had carried for the last three years.
Sue reached across the table and patted my arm. “You don’t have to tell me, Georgie.”
The sympathy in her voice touched me, and I gripped her hand. Hard. “Thanks, Sue. I, um, I have to think about this. But maybe sometime soon . . .”
I released Sue’s hand, and let the emotion of the moment pass. It would come back, I knew. Just like Blake.
Running into Blake had taken the fun out of the evening. I abandoned my dinner, my appetite gone, and said good night to Sue. She nodded her understanding, and made me promise to call her the next day.
I walked out of Tiny’s, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched. My knees threatened to give out, but I kept walking. I would not let Blake know he’d gotten to me.
On the way home the full impact of Blake’s words sank in. He was consulting on the security measures for the McComb’s castle. A job I would have had.
I thought back to everything that had been said. Chad had introduced Blake as a colleague, not a friend. It explained why Blake had never mentioned him—especially if he figured there might be future business to steal, along with my company.
By the time I pulled my old Bug into the driveway, I had convinced myself it was just a nasty coincidence, and if I just kept out of Blake’s path for a few days it would all be over.
I locked the car, more from force of habit than from any security concern. It wouldn’t take much to jimmy the thirty-year-old lock, if anyone was really crazy enough to want a beat-up relic.
By the time I reached the McComb site in the morning, the skies had cleared, and pale October sunlight filtered through the tall evergreens.
The Bug was the first car in the parking area. I sat behind the wheel, sipping black coffee out of a take-out cup from Dee’s Lunch on Main Street.
A flight of Canada geese passed overhead, their harsh calls a vivid reminder of why they were nicknamed honkers. I climbed out of the car to watch their progress as they grew smaller and their cries faded in the distance. It was a sure sign of the cold weather to come.
I leaned against the car and looked over the site. I tried to imagine how it would look when it was finished, though I had only seen a few rough sketches of the McCombs’s plans.
The island we were creating was about a half acre of bare dirt and rocks, with a copse of small oaks near the center. From the plans, I knew they planned to keep the trees as the starting point for a central garden.
Designing the irrigation and drainage for the garden was going to be a challenge. Barry had hinted that my programming skills could be applied to the project. There were parallels, and I had to admit it had its appeal. I was already leaning on Barry to invest in some design software.
He was resisting, but I counted on the gentle persuasion of a valued client with an open wallet to convince him. That project was several months down the road, and for now we had to concentrate on
the moat.
Unless we could make that work, the rest of the project would never happen.
In the distance I heard vehicles approaching, the rumble of engines disturbing the morning solitude. In a few minutes, Sean’s pickup pulled into the gravel parking area followed by two more vehicles.
Time to get to work.
Burying the newly inspected pipe—again—took most of the morning. Once again, as the apprentice, I was at the bottom of the moat with a shovel.
Midway through the morning I heard tires crunching in the gravel above me—probably Barry coming to inspect the job. I set aside my shovel and scrambled for the top of the moat.
I reached the edge and looked over, expecting to see Barry’s boots.
Hand-stitched Italian loafers.
Blake.
I started to duck back into the moat, but that familiar mocking tone caught me.
“Gee? Is that you down there?”
Behind him I saw Sean mouth “Gee?”
“Yes, Blake.” I tried to keep my voice neutral.
I clambered out of the moat and stood up on the edge of the trench. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I wanted to come back out and take another look at the site. Without the client, of course.”
He chuckled, a nasty sound that grated at my already-shredded nerves. “You remember how that is,” he said, reaching out to touch my arm. “Don’t you?”
I fought back the impulse of the lizard brain, refusing to shrink from his touch. I bit hard on the inside of my bottom lip, focusing on the pain rather than Blake.
When I was sure I could answer without my voice faltering, I replied. “That was a long time ago, Blake.”
“Not that long, Gee.” His voice slid across me, making my skin crawl.
I figured I had held my ground long enough. I pulled back and stepped away.
Over Blake’s shoulder I saw Sean move closer. He was watching us, his body language clearly protective.
I shook my head a fraction of an inch, hoping he understood. I could handle this by myself.
“What do you want, Blake? I’m working here. I don’t have time to play games with you.”
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