Honking behind her snapped her from her gawking. With an apologetic wave, she coasted to the next street and turned, squaring off the block. She parked in front of a building that was the tavern’s complete opposite. Its stained wood siding, ancient square logs, and gray chinking reminded her of a shack one might find in a ghost town. A tiredsign, its red lettering faded, announced that this was Dell’s. “Rustic” would have been paying the place a compliment.
She checked that the tight bun at her nape wasn’t about to unravel before gathering her storage clipboard and purse. Exiting her SUV, she stood for a moment and eyed Dell’s exterior. Was it leaning to one side? The questionable soundness of the building’s structure wasn’t her problem. Her only concern was the kitchen, and she hoped it presented better than the rest of the place, or she might be here a while … and she really wanted to get to Kaylee’s tonight to kick off her weekend of fun.
With a headshake, she made her way over a rickety boardwalk to the front door and stepped inside. Before her eyes could adjust to the gloom, a deep voice asked if he could help her. On reflex, she pulled out her picture ID and held it up. “Colorado Department of Public Health. I’m Hailey Bailey, here to inspect the kitchen. Is the manager available?”
“Hailey? Bailey?” A man emerged out of the shadows with a smirk and a swagger. He wore his pale blond hair long and perfectly styled. His forty-something face had just the right amount of stubble and was evenly tanned with a hint of deep orange that reminded her of skin coated in spray tan. His cut physique was on full display, thanks to a tight polo shirt in the shade of Miami-Vice pink. Though this was her first time in Fall River, she was pretty sure this guy wasn’t a local.
“Are you the manager?”
“I’m theowner,” he chided as he scanned her credentials. He crossed his arms in a way that made his biceps bulge. “Who told you to inspect my place?”
“It’s a routine inspection, sir.” Pocketing her ID, she lifted the clipboard’s cover, extracted the notice, and offered it to him. “And your name is …?”
He ignored the notice and her question. “Are you really going to stand there and tell me this isn’t because those cutthroat Hunnicutts pulled some strings to hound my ass?”
“Cutthroat Hunnicutts? Not sure I follow.”
“The Hunnicutt family, of course.” He narrowed one eye. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Even if the name rang a bell, she would have put on her poker face. She extended the paperwork toward him in a silent suggestion he take it. “I’m from Montrose County. As for Hunnicutt, I’m not familiar with thename. If you’ll read the notice, you’ll see this is a standard inspection conducted at least once a year. You might recall one being done ten months ago?”
His beefy arms seemed to cinch a little tighter. “You’re in the wrong county, little lady. This isSan JuanCounty. I’d be happy to show you where to go.”
His “where to go” carried a whole other meaning she chose to overlook. “As San Juan is the least populated county in the state, it simply doesn’t have the staff, and inspectors from surrounding counties help fill in the gaps.” She twitched the notice at him, which spelled it out. He didn’t even give it a glance.
“Ten months? You’re on the early side. What are you, some kind of eager-beaver bureaucrat?”
His words teased a laugh she had to rein in. An eager-beaver bureaucrat she most definitely was not, but motivated to get this over with? She certainly was that. “Inspections are doneonce a yearat minimum. Many restaurants are inspected multiple times.” The good sense her sister had taught her kept her from adding, “And if your place wasn’t located in Podunk Town, you can bet your bottom dollar Dell’s would be inspected more than once a year too, buster.”
Instead, she drilled into his icy blue gaze. “I will need to note an individual’s name on my report, and since you’re the owner ...” She let the question hang.
“Who do you show as owning this place?”
Seriously?“My paperwork says Magnus Man, LLC. Is that your entity, sir?”And can I have your damn name, already?
Magnus Man broke into a brilliantly smug smile. “If I tell you that, then the LLC’s anonymity is pierced.”
She clamped her mouth shut to keep it from spewing bad words.Fine. I’ll write down Blond Asshole on that line.
“I expect the inner workings of Colorado corporations are probably above your pay grade,” he drawled, “and there’s no need to worry your pretty little head over them. Just know I’m an attorney from Aspen, and I only work with high-net individuals and their companies, so you can trust that the LLC is legit. I know what I’m doing, and Idounderstand how these things work. Now, if you care to produce your MBA certificate or your license to practice law, we can wade into the weeds. Otherwise, whydon’t we agree that you’ve served your twenty-four-hour notice and you’ll be back sometime after that window expires?”
This guy apparently loved the sound of his own voice. Weary of the irrelevant cat-and-mouse game, Hailey parked a fist on her hip. “It doesn’t work like that,sir. While noticesmaybe given ahead of time, they’re usually delivered by the inspector upon his or her arrival. Each county’s department of public health dictates who and when; those decisions are beyond an inspector’s control. Now, if you’d care to contact the head of Montrose County Public Health, I’m sure he’d be happy tolay out the lawfor you.”
A feminine voice called from the murk somewhere behind Miami Vice Thor. “Bruno, a word?”
Bruno huffed and stalked back toward a dark hallway Hailey suspected led to her target—the kitchen. She let out a silent breath to calm her jarred nerves. Confrontations gave her hives, and she was fortunate that most restaurant managers were savvy enough to oblige without a fuss. This idiot appeared unable to get out from under his own self-important shadow.
All she wanted was to get this over with so she could be on her way to Denver and the sanctuary of her sister’s town house, the oblivion of yummy vodka drinks, and dancing at a club thatwasn’ta honky-tonk. Then, for at least the weekend, she could forget her job and jerkwads like Bruno Magnus Miami Vice.
Bruno marched back and beamed that toothpaste-commercial smile of his, minus any warmth. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
Finally!Hailey plastered on a saccharine smile of her own. “Yes, let’s.” Once more, she thrust the notice at him, and this time he took it.
Progress.She followed him into a small, tired kitchen.
The woman he’d spoken to leaned against a chipped counter, her arms folded as she scrutinized Hailey. She had a froth of fuzzy black hair that moved when she spoke. “We’re about to remodel, so this timing seems unwarranted.”
Oh, this was going to be fun … not.
