Second Chances (Nugget Romance 3) (27 page)

“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.

C
olin 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. Ashamed 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.

“You together now?” At least if he turned the conversation to her, she wouldn’t ask a lot of nosy questions.

“We’re working on it,” she said, lathering up his hair while his head rested against the cool porcelain bowl. “Are you okay, Colin?”

“How did her meeting go?” was all he said.

“Good. She just texted me. He wants all kinds of financial information, which Harlee rushed home to try to throw together. She doesn’t have a lot of it. But he says he wants to buy DataDate and turn it into a phone app.”

Colin lifted his soapy head. “Seriously?”

“I know, right?” She pushed his head back down for rinsing. “He even wants her to move to Dallas and consult on getting the program up and running. You can’t let her go, Colin.”

For her sake, how could he possibly ask her to stay? “It sounds like a good job . . . you know, until she can get a newspaper gig.”

“Okay, you’re going to think this sounds totally self-serving, but I swear it’s not. She belongs here, Colin. With you. I know she loves you and she loves this town. All that’s missing is a job. She hasn’t even applied at the Reno paper or tried freelancing.”

“It would never work, Darla. Trust me on that.”

“Why not?” Darla put her hands on her hips. “Why can’t it work? I can’t get a straight answer out of her. All I know is one day you two are happy as clams, the next you’re broken up. What don’t I know here?”

Screw it, Colin thought. “I have a past, Darla. An ugly one.”

Darla shut off the water and stared down at him. “She did one of those background checks on you, didn’t she? She did one on Wyatt too.”

Colin didn’t say anything. He just wanted Darla to move his haircut along.

Darla didn’t seem much in a hurry, though. “What did she find out?” When he didn’t answer, she pressed. “Come on, it can’t be
that
ugly. You may be a little strange, but you’re a good person, Colin.”

“I went to prison when I was seventeen for driving the getaway car during a liquor store holdup in which three people were murdered.” He waited for that to sink in and said, “I thought I was driving us to get beer. Apparently the kids I was with had different plans. I didn’t even know they had guns.”

“My God, Colin.” Darla kept watching him, not quite sure what to make of his admission. “Didn’t your lawyer tell the police that you didn’t know?”

“She did, but no one believed me. So you can see why I wouldn’t be the right kind of guy for Harlee.”

Darla moved him to her barber chair and quietly started trimming his hair. Colin could see her digesting the information he’d sprung on her. Measuring it in her head. Maybe now that Darla knew, she didn’t feel safe with him.

But then she did the damnedest thing. Darla spun his chair around and gave him a big hug. “Don’t you say that, Colin Burke. You’re a good man. And I believe you. Every word. Does Harlee realize that you weren’t involved—that you were railroaded?”

“She believes me. That’s not what’s at issue.”

Darla weighed that too. “You should’ve told her,” she finally said. “She deserved to know. But why can’t you just talk it out?”

“It’s more complicated than that. And Darla, I would appreciate it if you didn’t blab what I told you all over town.” He still had to live here.

“I won’t,” she said. “So if this Bix guy buys DataDate, you’ll just let her go? Let her walk away forever?”

“I’m no good for her, Darla.”

Harlee might have every reason to despise Colin for keeping his past from her. Eventually, though, Colin knew she’d forgive him. But she’d never get over having a man with a sheet. Despite having paid his debt to society, he’d always be viewed with mistrust. And so would the company he kept. It was enough that he’d ruined his own life; he wasn’t about to ruin hers too.

After his haircut, Colin made his way back to Grizzly Peak, passing Griffin on Main Street. Both backed up so they were side by side and rolled down their windows.

“You doing okay, man?” Griffin asked, leaning his head out into the cold.

“Yep.” Apparently Colin and Harlee’s breakup was front page news.

“You want to come over for a beer? Commiserate?”

Colin guessed that Griff and Lina were still on the outs. “I’ll take a rain check, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing,” Griffin said. “Hey, it gets better with time.”

“Has it for you?”

“Nah. But I keep hoping it will.”

Colin didn’t think it ever would for him. That’s why he changed the subject. “How’s business?”

“I’m almost ready to open the Gas and Go, got a couple custom bikes in the works, and have two more houses in Sierra Heights in escrow. That Sam may seem a little flaky, but she’s great at spreading the word. Any Lumber Baron guest with deep pockets, she sends my way. Two of them were looking for vacation homes.”

It was just a dent, considering that Griffin still had something like seventy vacant houses left to sell. But Colin figured that as rich as Griffin was, he could probably afford to sit on them. Although you’d never know the guy was wealthy; he acted like the rest of Nugget’s mostly blue-collar residents. That’s what Colin had come to like about him so much.

“Nice,” he said. “It’ll be good when the Gas and Go reopens—save everyone a trip to Graeagle.”

“Yup.” Griff split a grin. “That’s what everyone says.”

“I’ll catch you later.” Colin continued up the hill, passing Harlee’s cabin on the way home.

He saw her Pathfinder parked in the driveway and assumed she was inside, busy preparing a financial prospectus. He could’ve helped with that, having done it for his furniture company and carpentry business.

Instead he kept going, pulling into his driveway only to find Al’s Crown Vic taking up space next to the garage. The parole officer leaned against his car, seemingly immune to the cold, playing fetch with Max. Colin knew the dog made regular visits to Harlee’s house when he wasn’t home. Sometimes he could even smell her perfume on the shepherd.

He pulled up alongside Al’s cruiser and opened his door. “Hey.”

Al didn’t say anything, just motioned that they should go inside.

Colin led the way. So much for the old expression that lightning never strikes twice . . .

 

A week after Bix returned to Texas, Harlee accepted his deal. He’d offered a good price for DataDate, not enough to make her independently wealthy, but a sufficient amount to pay off her debt and keep her going for a while. Everyone, including Brad, thought she’d be a fool not to take it. Bix’s proposal that she work for the company was still on the table, but that decision would be determined by one person. And today was the day.

All morning she’d been unable to concentrate on anything other than listening for the sharp tone of her cell phone. That, and listening for Colin’s truck. According to her count, he’d made the trip on Grizzly Peak three times—once to leave and then return and then to leave again. Each time she heard the crunch of gravel underneath his steel-studded tires, her longing for him grew more unbearable. Over the last couple of days, she’d considered going to him. To say what, she wasn’t completely sure. In the end, though, she’d determined that there was no hope for them.

Colin had never asked her to be a permanent part of his life. A man who kept secrets wasn’t a man who could commit. If he was, he would’ve tried harder to work this out with her.

Darla had relentlessly begged Harlee to forgive him. But just because she and Wyatt were able to patch up their differences, didn’t mean the same could be said for Harlee and Colin. Too much deceit. His deceit.

She was still reeling from the fact that Colin had divulged the situation to Darla. The shootings. The prison sentence. All of it.

If only he had done that with Harlee months ago.

She stuck her head in the refrigerator, not really hungry but needing something to do to pass the time. It struck Harlee that she’d spent a great deal of her career waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting for the mayor to call with a quote, or a police spokesman with pertinent information, or a witness who could give crucial details to flesh out her story. And here she was, waiting again.

She shut the refrigerator door and flipped on the TV. Nothing but daytime soaps and talk shows, so she turned the set back off. She supposed she could start packing, because no matter what today’s outcome brought, she’d be leaving. Either for Seattle or Dallas.

Out the window, she gazed up at the snow-covered Sierra mountain range. The view always managed to take her breath away. And the dense thicket of pines, dusted in white, reminded her of fairy-tale Christmases. God, she would miss this place. After she’d lost her job, Nugget had been her salvation. Not just the scenery and the fresh smells of frost and sap and clean air, but the people. Especially Griffin and Darla. What would she do without Darla?

She’d miss Emily and Clay’s wedding and Maddy and Rhys’s baby, which would break her heart.

There was always email, she supposed, and Skype and the good old telephone. And on holidays and vacations she’d come back to visit. Perhaps her friends would come to see her too. Both Seattle and Dallas were easily accessible. The move was the best possible solution, she told herself. Nugget, after all, had always been intended as a temporary stopping place to regroup. She now had the money to pay off her bills and start over. And she fervently prayed that it would be in journalism. But beggars couldn’t be choosers and Bix paid well. At least while she worked for him getting the DataDate app off the ground, she could apply at the area’s two big newspapers. She would be right there to make a pest of herself.

At the kitchen table she pulled up a chair, silently implored the phone to ring, and sifted through a stack of
Nugget Tribune
s that had been sitting there for days. As usual the paper was thin on news, but chock-full of ads. No wonder those jerk-off Addisons wanted to buy it. With a few tweaks, like cutting out print, paper, and distribution costs by making the paper a digital-only product, the
Trib
could be a potential goldmine. Of course it would depend on whether local advertisers and readers were ready for an online newspaper. But Harlee had seen plenty of townsfolk reading on their tablets, smartphones, and laptops. Nugget might not be the Athens of the West, but it seemed to have embraced technology just fine.

The paper would probably attract more readers online, especially people from out of the area who had vacation homes here or just wanted to know what was going on in their neighboring town. And if there were actual stories in the paper, like updates on what city hall, the school board, and the county board of supervisors were up to, more people might actually read the
Trib
. She wondered if the Addisons, who last she’d heard were in escrow to buy the newspaper, had made similar observations.

The phone rang, startling Harlee out of her reverie, and she grabbed it, taking in a breath before she answered.

“Hello.”

“Harlee, it’s Jerry. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

When she’d called a week earlier, right after she’d met with Bix, Jerry had told her there was a chance of an opening. A
Seattle Times
reporter had been offered a higher-paying position as chief of communications at a local agency. Management at the
Times
had been in negotiations with the reporter, but apparently she’d taken the other job.

“I don’t need to come in for an interview, take a drug test or anything?” Harlee couldn’t believe it could be this easy.

“You can take the drug test in California. HR will send you a list of clinics we use and a bunch of other crap paperwork you need to fill out. As for the interview, you’ll be getting a call from the metro editor in a few hours. Don’t worry about his call. It’s pretty much meaningless, since I’m firing his ass in a few days. I think the guy’s retarded.”