Five minutes after they were seated, the hostess led another man over to Fynn’s table. The investor was older than both the brothers, judging by the gray that streaked his temples, and out-of-shape in a way his perfectly tailored suit couldn’t disguise. Nolan thought his face looked familiar but couldn’t remember who or from where.Some local mover and shaker, maybe.The newcomer and Micah shook hands. Fynn gave the guy a little wave without getting up, his curled lip and frown earning him a sideways glare from Micah.
Much as Nolan didn’t want to, he somewhat empathized with Micah. The business environment was cutthroat. In a perfect world, Fynn’s brilliance would be all he needed but in this real world, social graces counted too. Micah’s fault, though, for picking at Fynn like he was some kind of surly teenager the whole drive. Made a person want to act that way out of spite.
When his server stopped by, Nolan ordered a croissant, cheese, and fruit plate. Easy to drop, not messy. Coffee too, of course, although he and Fynn had each downed a mugful in their fifteen-minute oasis before Micah arrived. He was amused when Fynn’s gestures to the server resulted in a whole carafe being left at their table.Man does love his caffeine.
Nolan was too far away to hear their conversation. About ten minutes into it, Fynn became more animated, losing his scowl and gesturing with his hands.Probably talking about outgassing or temperature regulation or something.He smiled inwardly at knowing exactly what that sounded like in Fynn’s science-is-exciting voice. The investor looked interested, asking occasional questions. Micah sat back with a satisfied expression.
By the time Fynn’s table broke up, each of them standing, Nolan was making his water last in tiny sips. He stood too, watching. The investor gestured toward the marina with its array of sleek, white boats and said something. Fynn shook his head. Micah and the investor spoke some more, but Fynn made a definite gesture of rejection and stomped off toward the inside bathrooms, his frown back in place.
Nolan hurried after him, keeping Fynn’s back in sight. The restroom door swung shut between them but there was a delay of no more than ten seconds before Nolan followed him in. The only person visible was a tall guy washing his hands at a sink. Nolan’s pulse stuttered for an instant before he picked out a familiar pair of tan shoes below a stall door.All good.He took the chance to pee, washed up, then put his shoulders to a wall out of the way and waited.
Fynn emerged from the stall zipping up his slacks, saw Nolan and startled, then smiled although the expression looked fake. “Hey, fancy meeting you here. Getting any ideas?” He stuck his hands under the water and rubbed a fist around one rigid forefinger, the gleam in his eye becoming more real.
“Cut it out,” Nolan said. “I have lots of ideas but they’ll keep till we get home.”Home.Somehow, that meant the small apartment where the bathroom wasn’t even en suite and the couch wanted to gouge out his liver if he lay the wrong way.
“Do we have to wait for Micah?”
“Don’t you want to? I thought we were going out on the lake in his boat?” When Fynn shook his head, Nolan pulled out his phone and texted~Hey, Chuck. We need transpo at the Southwinds Marina.
The answer pinged back from Charlie.~Thirty minutes. Don’t call me Chuck. Just me as driver?
Despite Nolan’s spider senses tingling, he couldn’t see a real reason to pull in more people.~Just you. I’ll have someone new for Oliver to do a background check on, though.No doubt the investor was legit— he looked like money— but anyone getting close to Fynn required the full treatment.
~On my way.
Nolan told Fynn, “Half an hour and we’ll have Charlie and our own car.”
“Thanks.”
“What do you want to do till then? We could hang around the bathroom, but despite being high-class, the ambiance is still eau-de-toilette.”
Fynn chuckled and the groove between his eyebrows smoothed out. “We can probably find somewhere lesstoilette-y.”
Nolan held the door for him, glancing toward the patio as they crossed the main room. Down past the railing, toward the docks, he could make out Micah and the investor walking side by side, heads together. “Looks like your brother ditched you.”
“The investor wanted to show us his yacht. I said no, kind of clearly, and Micah said he’d go.”
“You didn’t want to see a yacht?”
“Are you kidding?” They left the building, and Fynn threw a renewed glare at his brother’s retreating back. “Yachts are all aboutlook how much money I can throw around on useless things.”
“I thought Micah had one.”
“A boat, not a yacht.” Fynn gestured toward the docks as they wandered down the path under the dappled shade of the small trees. “Down there, between all the pretentious sails that pretty much never get unfurled, he has a water ski boat. I mean, he’s forty-three and he’s not going out on skis, so it’s almost as useless as a yacht, but it’s the boat he wanted when we were young. He takes it out to tool around on the water. It’s twenty feet long, not sixty.”
“Which makes all the difference.”
“Well, it does. Some difference. Compared to ‘Let me show you how I blew a million dollars.’”
“You didn’t like that investor guy?” Nolan gave the distant men another look. They seemed pretty friendly, turning off the paved path onto one of the jetties, Micah gesturing about something.
Fynn wrinkled his nose and pushed his glasses higher. “At least he understands science, not like the guy who was mostly interested in where we were sourcing the exterior plastics, but he’s a total jerk. Ugh. I hate him.”
That seemed like a strong reaction for one short brunch encounter. Then again, there were people Nolan had pegged as jerks on the first three words out of their mouth.
“Will you take his money if he wants to invest?”
“Micah’s call, but I want to say no. I hated the guy back in my ZomaChem days and he hasn’t improved.”
