18. The Bosshole

Hailey's doubts about Noah ebbed like the waves at low tide. How sweet was it that he had offered to donate the money to a shelter? She had nearly launched herself at him. And knowing what Ursula had done to him only made Hailey want to hold him. Ursula Jones was an idiot, and the realization gave Hailey a lift of the catty variety.

Tearing her eyes from Noah's handsome face, she glanced at her watch to check the time, deflating when she noticed the direction Mickey Mouse's gloved fingers pointed. She needed to prepare for the inspection later this morning with Cliff, and it was time to leave … which was probably a good thing. While she could sit here for hours and bask in Noah's heated gaze, endlessly replaying the kiss that had melted her panties, she needed to escape his scrutiny.

As he'd quizzed her about her job, his busy brows had nearly touched in the middle. She hated being cagey, and after he'd confided in her about Ursula, she felt even more obligated to tell him the truth. And she would. Friday night, she would lay out her cards. Meanwhile, she would cross her fingers that he didn't hear it from someone else. But what were the chances? Sure, she'd be inspecting Dell's later today, but after the way Noah and Bruno had faced off last night, she doubted Miami Vice Thor would be rushing over to the Miners Tavern to share notes about the inspection. Of course, if Dell's got slapped with infractions, he might storm over and accuse Noah of leveraging "the waitress in the obscene wench costume" against him.

While she'd been hoping that arrogant dickhead would get caught with a dirty kitchen so they could flunk him, her inner voice warned her to be careful what she wished for.

Suddenly, Cliff's presence unveiled a silver lining. He could deflect Bruno's wrath and keep her from being outed before she could out herself. Maybe. Knowing did nothing to soothe the apprehensions turning cartwheels in her stomach, though.

Yeah, she was walking along a fraying tightrope here.

She gathered up her coat. "Until Friday night, then. I'll clean the, um, last night's outfit and return it to you then."

His eyebrows climbed his forehead. "Will you be in it?"

"What? No!"

"That's too bad," he murmured. "Then again, now I won't need to ask you to keep your coat on the entire time."

"Why would you ask me to keep my coat on?"

"I wouldn't be able to think straight, and I'd probably end up burning dinner." One corner of his mouth twitched mischievously.

Heat flooded her, and she shot to her feet. "I … Oh."

"Is returning the outfit the only reason you agreed to dinner?" Now he was just toying with her.

Two could play this game. "No, I have an ulterior motive to see Lex Luthor again."

A chuckle rumbled through his chest. He stood, leaned in, and lowered his voice. "Between you and me"—he waved two fingers between them—"he's Chance now." She must have broadcast her surprise because he continued, explaining, "The name came to me while I was talking to Reece last night, but I didn't want to let anyone know because folks seemed to be having fun with your contest, and I didn't want to take that away. You and Reece and Chance are the only ones who know."

Being in on the secret gave her a hit of warm fuzzies. She let out a snicker. "I knew you didn't like the name, but how's that going to work with the contest? Nobody wins?"

"I'll bet you a bag of blue MMs someone suggests it. And if no one does, I'll just say Dixie picked the name and she's giving her prize to someone else because she gets to eat at the tavern all the time." He grinned with the pride of a little boy who'd caught his first frog, and her knees wobbled a bit.

"Well, I'm honored you shared your secret, and I promise to keep it."

He tipped his head to the side. "You don't look surprised I changed the dog's name so soon."

"Like I said, I knew you couldn't stand it."

"Was I that obvious?"

She stuffed her arms into her sleeves. "You were Captain Obvious. Not only did you refuse to repeat the name, but you either grimaced, cringed, or rolled your eyes every time you heard it."

"I did not."

"You totally did."

His grin broadened. "Are we bantering here?"

"Bantering?" she repeated, off balance because her knees still quivered.

"Yeah. Let's do more of it Friday night." And there came the wicked gleam of his eyes, packed with so much promise behind it that a fresh wave of heat flared across her cheeks.

She picked up her empty cup. "I need to find Amy and say good-bye." Bubbles of excitement fizzing in her bloodstream, she scurried from the table.

Hailey returned to the Loose Moose, grateful Noah had left the coffee shop by the time she'd finished thanking Amy. She hadn't been sure her lurching heart could withstand another dose of Mr. Studly Muffin Pants.

Back at the Moose, she settled on the couch, computer in her lap, Bluetooth playing mellow tunes in her ears, and reviewed her notes on freezers, pantries, and food prep areas she'd recently visited. Fortunately, she'd been able to hand out all passing grades, which always made her happy, despite the grumpy kitchen staff she'd had to coax. What the managers of these establishments often failed to understand was that she wanted to give them passing grades. She didn't want them to fail because not meeting standards meant the public was at risk, as was the livelihood of the restaurateur. Besides, a clean, organized kitchen simply flowed better. Keeping them in tip-top shape was a win-win for everyone.

Her phone rang, and she tapped her earpiece. "This is Hailey Bailey."

"Hailey! Where are you, princess?" came Cliff's baritone.

Her oily lead inspector's voice turned her happy bubbles into liquefied clay.

Princess? The endearment was cringeworthy, especially coming from the sleazeball who considered himself her boss. She was no princess. Furthermore, she found the term insulting, and she was pretty sure HR would agree.

"Cliff," she ground out, "please don't—"

"I know, I know, don't offend your inner feminist, even if I'm simply trying to pay you a compliment," he mocked. "Sorry. I guess my version of a compliment is ‘inappropriate' in your book." His tone broadcast that regret was the farthest sentiment from his mind.

She held back a scoff. Inappropriate was Cliff Meissner's middle name. "What's going on?"

"I wanted to give you a heads-up that I'm about an hour from Fall River. Meet me at this coffee place—Mountain something—so we can get started."

Wait. What? Why hadn't the jerkwad mentioned anything in his email about inspecting Amy's place? Tempted as Hailey was to alert her friend, she couldn't. And even if she did, it was too late to prep the place the way it needed to be prepped—not that Hailey had noticed any red flags. The kitchen had been spotless. Her worry shifted to whether Amy would still speak to her after she discovered Hailey was part of a surprise inspection. Yeah, that was a biggie.

"Does Mountain Coffee have any inkling they're being inspected?"

"No, of course they wouldn't, but we're not inspecting them. I just need a serious caffeine fix … unless you want to brew me a pot at wherever you're staying."

She could practically hear his eyebrows riding up and down his forehead, and bile burned her throat despite the relief she felt over not having toinvestigate Amy's kitchen.

"Don't have the supplies," she retorted. "Besides, I'm feeling a little queasy, and I don't want to put more acid in my stomach. Go ahead and grab your java, and I'll meet you in front of Dell's."

He didn't argue, but as she was preparing to hang up, he surprised her further. "Last night must've been fun, am I right?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're feeling sick this morning, and it was Saint Patty's Day. Did you drink too much green beer and swivel your hips on a few tabletops? Now that's a sight I would have liked to see." He chuckled malevolently.

Icy fingers of rage slid down her spine. Not only had he pushed the envelope completely into inappropriate territory, but he'd also ripped off the flap. Since he'd been quasi-promoted, in effect climbing a rung above her, Cliff had upped the sexual innuendos. She'd been walking a tightrope between keeping him at bay while trying not to piss him off so thoroughly he pulled his puppeteer strings and got her ass fired. Either that tightrope was growing springier or more of the safety net was being stripped away. She couldn't afford to lose this job—or the raise that was right around the corner.

Biting back her kneejerk counter—namely, that it was none of his damn business—she simply said, "Um, no." A beat of silence passed. "Listen, Cliff. I need to get going if I'm going to be ready when you get here."

"All right, princess. Hey, I was wondering about that place where you're staying. Got any extra room?"

Horror flooded her, and she blurted, "No, it's a tiny one-bedroom, and the owners made an exception for me to stay there."

"Has it got a couch?" He paused to laugh, the sound condescending.

"Don't you have a room at the Grand Majestic?"

"I do, I just thought I could save the department some money. Besides, it'd be easier for us to work together if we were under the same roof."

Oh hell no!When had Cliff ever worried about the budget?

Bosshole.

The airy croissant she'd just eaten sat like cement in her belly; she hadn't been lying when she'd said she was nauseous. Nevertheless, she mustered enthusiasm she didn't have. "I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable at the hotel. It's a nineteenth-century grande dame that's been elegantly restored. It's quite luxurious." Hailey hadn't been inside, so she didn't have a clue, but the embellishment didn't bother her conscience one tiny bit. "Tell me again why we both have to inspect Dell's today?"

"Two can cover the place that much quicker. Your last report from there wasn't too favorable, so I want to be sure we catch everything."

What did that even mean?

He went on. "What's the place like anyway?"

An image of Dell's interior surfaced and bobbed about in her brain with its grimy dark-wood, rough-and-tumble decor. Whereas the Miners Tavern was every bit old-world charm, Dell's was old world. "Like a rough old mining cabin. ‘Honky-tonk' comes to mind, but that might be an insult to honky-tonks."

"Wow. Okay. You really don't like these guys, do you?"

"It has nothing to do with them. It has everything to do with the condition of the place."

"All right, settle down. Now what about dinner tonight? Any suggestions since you've been slumming for days in Bumfuck and this is my first time?"

Hailey let his jabs slide off her back, deadpanning, "The restaurant at your hotel is supposed to be the best in town." Eating there also afforded her a quick getaway as soon as the meal was over since it was a short walk back to the Loose Moose.

"It's a date," Cliff declared before hanging up.

God, I hope he's not looking at it that way.

Hailey went through the motions of getting ready for work. She donned her requisite navy pants suit, pressed white blouse, and cushy black work shoes. Next, she slicked her hair back and twisted it into a tight, tidy bun at her nape, willing it to stay put. Throughout the familiar routine, a seed of dread sprouted inside her and spread its tendrils. She was in for one long day.

Rather than park in front of Dell's like she had last time, Hailey chose a spot two storefronts down and waited. Nothing and no one stirred. Idly, she stared through her window as a shiny white SUV with temporary tags drove up and whipped into an empty spot in front of the restaurant. The driver didn't register until he stepped out, adjusted his aviator sunglasses, and prowled toward her.

Cliff Meissner.

Exiting her car, she pulled in a steadying breath and told her nerves to stop their jangling. She'd faced far more terrifying obstacles in her life than this political blowfish.

When he reached her, his face split with a grin. "Someone obviously got more than enough beauty sleep."

She was fresh out of rejoinders to his unprofessional remarks, so she nodded toward the SUV.

"New ride?"

"Yep, just last week. About time too."

"You don't strike me as the Ford type."

He jabbed a thumb against his chest. "I'm not, but the county has a contract with the Ford dealership in Durango, so it's Ford all the way."

She gave a little shake of her head to clear what had to be cobwebs gunking up her brain. "Wait. That's a county car?"

He smirked. "Yeah. Guess they want us inspectors to make an impression when we pull up to an establishment. That way the owners will show appropriate respect. Although I doubt it has much impact without the county decals. Those get put on next week."

She spluttered. "Dan found a new car in the budget? How is that possible?" When I've been asking for one—and getting turned down—for years?

"Budgets can be manipulated in the hands of the right official." He followed this up with a sly wink.

That was wrong on so many levels she didn't know where to start. Then again, if she got to drive it a few times a week … "Being the only two inspectors, I assume this SUV will be shared between us?" And since I do the lion's share, I'll get the car. This could be a good turn of events.

"I doubt that Dan's intention, nor would it be very practical. The logistics of swapping vehicles would be a pain in the ass."

"Are we getting another vehicle?" She knew the answer but had to ask anyway.

"No. Dan had trouble enough wrangling this one."

By some miracle, she managed to keep her voice even. "I've been lobbying for a car since day one."

"And it would have been yours, princess, but since I've more or less taken the lead in the department, Dan thought I should have it. Don't want to go against the big man, now do we?"

Unable to contain her annoyance, she blurted, "And about you taking the lead—"

"Oh, I couldn't do it without you, Hailey," he interrupted. In that greasy way of his, he added, "You're so efficient, and you work so hard that it frees me up for more important things, like meeting higher-ups. You can understand how pulling up in a POS would give off the wrong vibe."

Her irritation climbed. "A POS like mine, you mean? What kind of vibe do you suppose that gives off?"

His gaze strayed to her 4Runner before returning to her. "You have a very generous allowance that more than covers gas, wear and tear, stuff like that. Don't worry, though. If we need to drive anywhere, we'll take my car." His eyebrows bounced. "It might not be a Ferrari, but it has that sexy new car smell."

He'd utterly slithered away from her question. A headache bloomed behind Hailey's eyes, the pressure building. A confrontation loomed, and she hated confrontation. Tightening her grip on her backpack, she sucked in a breath and repeated her mantra. You can do this.

To her relief—and bemusement—there were no confrontations. Bruno Keating had passed the duty to his restaurant manager, Elena, the woman with the dark frizzy hair who had watched Hailey like a hawk the last time she'd been here. This time, though, the woman's attention was lasered in on Cliff. The two joked and enjoyed social time while Hailey did the heavy lifting. Why was Cliff even here? Part of her was annoyed as hell, but the other part was grateful he stayed out of her way while she dug for any and every violation she could find. And as lunchtime stretched into late afternoon, her list was filling up. Some people never learned.

She nearly whacked her head on a shelf when a menacing chuckle sounded behind her. "Find anything interesting?"

Whirling, she faced platinum-blond hair, glacial eyes, and the tanned face of Bruno Keating twisted with a sneer.

"You'll get a full copy of—"

Cliff's voice boomed. "Mr. Keating!" Hand extended for a shake, he rushed at Miami Vice Thor.

Bruno accepted Cliff's proffered hand while jabbing a thumb toward Hailey. "Did your girl tell you I saw her at the Miners Tavern last night?"

Cliff's eyes narrowed. "No, she must've forgotten to mention it."

Hailey straightened, her cheeks burning with anger. Your girl? Seriously? Embarrassment, with a pinch of panic, added to the blaze as she braced herself. How was she going to counter Bruno's description of her tawdry outfit and the fact that she'd been quasi-moonlighting? But it wasn't moonlighting if you simply volunteered and didn't take any pay, if you were merely helping out a friend, right? And what you wore off duty was your business. So what if she'd looked a bit … hooker-ish?

With another surprising move, Bruno clapped Cliff on the back. "Let's head to my office."

What was with the buddy-buddy act? Hailey had little time to ponder it because Elena took up station and trained her beady little eyes on her.

"Back to work, Hailey," Cliff called over his shoulder. "We don't want to squander the taxpayers' money."

Hailey pressed her lips together and buried herself in the inspection.

Cliff reappeared just as Hailey was finishing up a half hour later. Elena wandered off, leaving them alone.

Hailey hissed, "I understand being courteous and polite, but aren't you a tad friendly with these people?"

He smirked. "Just putting them at ease and loosening their lips. It's called charm. You should try it sometime." He pointed at her clipboard. "They passed, right?"

"That depends. There are a number of red flags here, and I—"

"The place might be a little dilapidated, but it seems clean to me."

She was in the process of noting needed improvements when Cliff snatched her clipboard from her hands and signed off on the report. "There. Passed."

"But I have a few—"

"All good here," he declared over her would-be protest, loud enough to pull Bruno into the kitchen.

Bruno's thin lips curved into a slow smirk. "Well, that's good news. Too bad not all the restaurants in this town can pass muster." He flicked his gaze Hailey's way. "I'm glad your employee was able to see past our rustic decor and produce an accurate report this time."

"I apologize for my subordinate, Bruno. Sometimes I think that bun of hers gets wound a little too tight."

Hello, standing right here!

Both men glanced at her … and laughed. Her brain froze. What the hell was she supposed to say in response to this outrageous behavior?

Before her logical self could answer the question, Cliff reached out and shook Bruno's hand. "Don't you worry, Bruno. I'll make sure she falls in line."

She'd fall in line all right—close enough to kick Cliff's ass. Hell, both their asses!

As soon as they stepped outside onto the boardwalk, she wheeled on him. "Cliff, we need to talk—"

"It'll keep till dinner, Hailey." He flashed his most brilliant smile. "Oh, and change of plans. We're eating at the Miners Tavern instead."

"Excuse me?" What the hell was this jerkwad up to now?

"I've heard chatter about its history, and I want to check it out. Unless you're worried you'll get sick again by eating their food."

"I didn't get sick from their food, Cliff! I had too much acid in my stomach from all the coffee I drank before you got here." Repeat a lie often enough and it became the truth. Soon she'd be believing the false excuse.

"Then it's settled. We'll have dinner at the hotel Thursday night instead."

Her mouth swung open. Thursday night? "Why are we here Thursday night? Aren't we due back in Montrose? In fact, let's skip dinner tonight so we can go back to the office now and not squander the taxpayers' money."

"No can do just yet, princess. San Juan County's sending me a list of other places they'd like us to look at while we're in the neighborhood."

All her spidey-senses vibrated with warning.

"I can't Thursday," she blurted. "I have other plans."

"Such as?" He dragged the question out.

"That's personal," she snipped. No idea what those plans were yet, but they involved a book and sugar.

"Well, you're just going to have to change them. Look, I've got to run. Why don't you relax and get prettied up? I'll see you at dinner." He pivoted and strode for his car, leaving her to gawk at his back.

What in the actual hell just happened?

Back at the Loose Moose, she made two calls. The first was to Charlie, who reassured her she could stay through the weekend, but God, she prayed she didn't have to. The second was to her sister.

"Kayl, I'm not sure what to do here," she lamented after describing what had happened at Dell's. "I get so mad I want to hand in my resignation, but I need this job. Then I ask myself if the security and the benefits are truly worth the price." Maybe her priorities were shifting—or Cliff was shifting them for her—because the perks looked less appealing every day.

"First of all," her practical sister said, "he fancies himself a mover and a shaker, so he's not going to stick around. He'll be on to the next better thing as soon as possible, but in the meantime, he needs you because you're doing all the work he's taking credit for. He can't afford to get rid of you, which puts you in the catbird seat. Hang in there and outlast him.

"Second of all, he's a jerk who's way out of line, but it's his word against yours. You need to start gathering proof that he's harassing you. Third, I smell a rat. Something's going on there that probably has nothing to do with you, but you could become a casualty."

Hailey heaved out a sigh. "I agree, but I can't tell what that something is."

"Check your temper—and your pride—at the door and make nice. He's a narcissist, so he won't suspect you're playing a game to find out what he's up to. And Hail? Try not to retch in the meantime."

Hailey chuckled in spite of herself. "Thanks for talking me off the ledge, Kayl. It's going to suck balls, but it makes total sense."

"So what's next?"

"I change out of this inspector's ‘uniform' and get ready for dinner. What choice do I have?"

"You always have choices, baby girl."

After they hung up, Hailey sat back and ran through some of those choices. Stay and slog through one miserable day after another. Quit and give up her dream of opening a bookstore.

Kaylee was right, but could Hailey outlast Cliff? Why couldn't other people see the snake she saw? He was one of those charmers who knew what to do and what to say to the weak ones—the ones susceptible to his brand of sucking up, who happened to hold the power that helped him along. Before bringing him on board, the higher-ups had practically wet themselves over this "amazing addition" to their team, waxing on about how he was going to "turn the department on its head." He was turning it on its head all right, but they were too Cliff-struck to see it.

Damn it, she couldn't let him win. She had a plan to see through. If she kept paying her dues, she'd have enough money banked to reach her goal.

Yeah, her dream was worth the price.

As she got ready to meet him at the tavern, dread tightened like a fist in her stomach. Sitting through dinner with Cliff Meissner was going to tap into parts of her resolve that had lain dormant since her days of shooting the waves.