Her lips tipped up in a smile. “Can I attend the last men’s game before they drain the rink, Dad? Your brothers will be there with their wooden sticks and sharp skates, and I’ll be surrounded by Neve and the Margaritas, heckling the boys. I don’t think anyone’s going to get close to me.”
“Okay, but go with Charlie. I don’t want you driving by yourself.”
She rolled her eyes in response.
“I’m serious, Hailey. I’ll tell Charlie to tie you up and throw you in his truck if you don’t, then I’ll have him tie you to the bleachers when you get there.”
Stepping back into him so close he could smell her shampoo, she walked her fingers up his chest. “If anyone’s tying me up, it’s you, barkeep.”
He fought a smile. “We can talk aboutthatwhen I get back.”
“You’re cute when you’re being protective, even if you’re overreacting. You’re also kinda hot in business casual.” She gave him a heated once-over, then leaned in and kissed him stupid. “Good luck today. I love you.”
“Right back atcha, babe.”
As he drove off, he scoured the streets and storefronts, but Fall River didn’t look any different than it had yesterday,beforehe’d learned about the threatening notes. No menacing Gollum-types peeked from around buildings, and no nefarious black hats ducked in and out of shadows.
His mind turned over who might be leaving her the notes, and only two possibles popped up: Bruno Keating and Cliff Meissner, though he couldn’t decide which was the likelier. Keating was a chest puffer who liked to confront his adversaries in front of people to make himself look intimidating. The sleazeball leaving notes was sneaky—and that lined up with Meissner. But Meissner would have had to stay close by, and someone would have spotted him … unless he was so consumed he drove between Fall River and Montrose each time. And someone wouldhavedefinitelynoticed a strange vehicle creeping through the streets in the wee hours.
Until Deputy O’Brien reported back with his findings, letting his mind spin with unknowns would only wear Noah out, and he needed to stay sharp. With a resigned sigh, he tucked away the troubling thoughts.
He turned his attention to the meeting at hand. Hailey’s ideas whirled in his head like a ground twister, kicking up a few of his own. Fortunately, the rail company hadn’t come to a decision about the fate of its tracks yet, which still left a window of opportunity to revive the train. That window was collapsing, though, and Noah planned to convince these guys that snapping up the line was a win-win for everyone. This was a damn good plan.
Do not blow this opportunity.
He arrived at the soaring stone-and-timber lodge and was shown into a conference room with a wall of windows that looked out on Mount Eolus and the Needle Mountains. He eyed the large oval table, unsure whether to sit and where.
The pretty receptionist indicated the seats on one side. “Mr. Cantrell usually sits at the head. He likes for his guests to sit on this side so they can enjoy the view.”
“Thank you.” Though he suspected it was a power move meant to impress, Noah wasn’t about to protest; the view was breathtaking. “How many will be joining Mr. Cantrell today?”
“I believe there will be three more. Meanwhile, may I offer you something to drink, Mr. Hunnicutt?”
“Water’s fine, thanks. Do you know if, ah … Will the liaison, Ursula Jones, also be here?” He’d dreaded being scrutinized by her while he navigated this monumental meeting with wealthy, powerful men. Might as well gird his loins and be ready.
She shook her head. “No, Miss Jones recently took a leave of absence.”
Part of him wanted to yelp with joy. It took the other part of him a tick to catch up and wonder if she was all right.
Moments after the receptionist left, a man in his mid-thirties with longish, wavy brown hair, dressed in blue jeans and a gunmetal-gray button-down, stepped into the room and extended his hand. “LeopoldCantrell, but people call me Leo. You must be Noah Hunnicutt. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”
Noah took the man’s hand while his brain rearranged expectations. He had anticipated someone in his sixties with a wisp of gray hair on his balding head in place of this guy who could double as an athlete or a male model—or both.
The guy laughed, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “You were probably expecting my father. Well,he’sretired and fisting a tropical drink on a beach somewhere beside a hot nineteen-year-old.”
“Which he can do because you’re running the show.”
Leo Cantrell’s steel-blue eyes sharpened. “Exactly. I suspect you and I have a lot in common, Mr. Hunnicutt.”
“Please call me Noah. And I wouldn’t call my dad retired. He likes to hang around and tell me what to do.”
Leo motioned for him to sit. “Ah. So he wants you to run the family business with his strings attached.”
“Actually, the Miners Tavern ismybusiness.” Never mind the Hunnicutt assets his fatherdidmanage and that Noah could no longer access.
Something sparked in the other man’s eyes, and he seemed to realign his own expectations. “Interesting. You get all the headaches, along with the bottom line, whether it’s in the red or the black.”
“That sums it up perfectly.”
