Hailey gulped in air, trying to steady her runaway pulse. “I’m sorry, Kayl. The job took way longer than I planned.” It hadn’t helped that Bruno Keating had badgered Hailey throughout the inspection while simultaneously trying to keep her from checking all the restaurant’s nooks and crannies. He had slowed the processwaydown.
“Ooh, that sounds like you found stuff.”
“Yeah, I found stuff. Not enough to close the place, but if you’re ever headed this way and want to stop off for a bite to eat, stay away from Dell’s until they pass their follow-up inspection, okay?” Which, with any luck, would be conducted by someone other than Hailey—someone like her new subordinate.
“Thanks for the tip. Meanwhile, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” The dejection in Kaylee’s tone was palpable.
“I can still come tonight,” Hailey protested.
“No. It’ll be dark, you’ll be driving mountain roads, and deer and elk will jump in front of you and smash your car. I can’t stand the thought of you bleeding out on some deserted highway all alone.”
“Gee, thanks?”
“Besides, I don’t want to stay up that late waiting for you to get here. Now, if I know you, you’re exhausted and starving. Go home,” Kaylee insisted. “Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Hailey’s stomach rumbled on cue.
“I heard that,” her sister chortled. “I mean it, Hail. Big sister knows best. Go home.”
Hailey groused her agreement. She wouldn’t have minded driving the five hours, but ironically, she did mind the nearly two-hour drive home immensely. Probably because her hollow stomach was sending out one SOS after another.
Liveliness down the street caught her eye, and she pondered the Miners Tavern and Bruno Keating’s over-the-top rant about the place. Curiosity piqued, Hailey got out of her car and ambled toward the newly minted establishment—not with the intention of scrutinizing the place so much as experiencing an “enemy of my enemy is my friend” moment. What kind of man was this Hunnicutt character who so clearly got under Bruno’s skin? Probably another narcissist like the owner of Dell’s—orrather, the owner of theLLCthat owned Dell’s, her “pretty little head” reminded her.
Was the feud a one-sided affair, or did it involve equally hateful combatants? Maybe a quick look-see at the competition would answer the riddle.
The burble grew louder as she closed in on the bar that displayed even more old-world allure up close. A wide, red-brick storefront gleamed with warm, polished wood columns and gold lettering on its windows. At its two-story peak was a stone medallion chiseled with “Est. 1875.”
When she stepped inside, she was enveloped in the deafening din of people enjoying themselves. The smell of sizzling burgers and stewing meat wafted up her nose, and her tummy thundered, mercifully drowned out by the happy noise.
“Be with you in a moment, hon,” a brassy blond with electric blue eye shadow called out. Hailey took a moment to inventory the place. Neat rows of tables were arranged on a floor made up of old-fashioned white-and-black hexagon tiles, and evenly spaced etched glass chandeliers hung from a pressed tin ceiling. The towering bar, framed by a brick wall, spanned at least twenty feet and was crafted of burled walnut. A mirrored backdrop reflected row upon row of bottles in every shape and color.
Behind the counter stood a square-shouldered man who looked to be in his late twenties. A sage-green T-shirt hinted at a leaner—and much more appealing—frame than the hulked-out one she’d just left. His dark hair was tight on the sides, with longer strands neatly combed back on top. He wore a short, tidy beard and a warm smile as he garnished six cocktails lined up before him. The reason for his smile no doubt had to do with the cute redhead practically sprawled across the counter, obviously flirting with him.
At that moment, he looked up, his eyes catching Hailey’s. They narrowed. She sucked in a breath before she could stop herself, but his gaze darted back to what he was doing without seeming to register she existed. He had probably been checking the patrons’ comings and goings, and the realization made her ego sink a little … which made no sense.
The brassy blond reappeared. She looked to be in her fifties, and her ample body was clad in a wild print that matched her long fuchsia nails. She wore a name tag in the shape of an ore car that read, “Dixie.” Her eyes blinked as they swept Hailey from her tight bun to her practicalpumps, flashing their frosted blue lids like a neon sign. A tight smile thinned her lips.
“What can I do for you?”
Taken aback by the icy greeting, Hailey stammered, “I-I was hoping to grab a meal?”
The hostess’s eyes sharpened. “Are you one of them food inspectors pulling a sneak attack? We’ve already had inspections up the wazoo.”
It was Hailey’s turn to blink. “Excuse me?” Crap! Why hadn’t she thought to loosen her bun and her top button to lighten her starchy look? Feeling the weight of the woman’s pointed stare, Hailey rushed on. “I assure you, I’m not here to conduct any kind of inspection.” From a page straight out of Diplomacy 101, she broadened her smile. “The place smelled so good, I had to duck in.”
Dixie’s entire demeanor transformed, and she covered her heart with her hand. “Thank the god of mud pies! The bosshatesthe inspectors with a capitalH. And who can blame him? They’ve made his life a living hell.” Then she beamed a smile of her own. “Meetin’ someone here, hon?”
Hailey’s shoulders eased. “No, I was walking by and realized how hungry I was.”
The woman’s jaw went slack. “You’re here alone? A pretty thing like you?”
Hailey kept the eye-roll to herself. “Yes. Do you have any tables available?” Before the hostess could answer, Hailey changed course. “Actually, if you have space at the bar …”
Dixie glanced over her shoulder. Women were lined up like birds on a wire, admiring the bartender’s very fine attributes. Hailey was primed for a little ogling herself. Whoever owned the place had made a good choice when they’d hiredthisbarkeep. His movements fluid and economical, not only did the guy seem to know what he was doing, but he was an attraction all of his own. Was there a Mrs. Bartender waiting for him at home with a passel of little bartenders? Even if he was unattached, Hailey couldn’t imagine this man spending many nights alone. The proof was in the audience drooling in front of him.
Dixie startled her from her wayward thoughts. “I’m afraid every last seat is taken. I can add you to the waiting list, but we’re about an hour out.” The woman gave her a sympathetic look.
“I appreciate it, but I don’t think my stomach will hold out that long. Good on you guys, though. This looks like a successful opening.”
