19. Tom Brady’s in the House

Noah held the tavern's back door open for Chance, and the dog bounded in—actually bounded—and immediately looked up at Noah as if begging for praise.

Noah unclipped his leash and scratched his ear. "Yeah, you're a good boy."

Dixie rounded the corner. "How was the walk this time?"

"He's getting better. He only got tangled up in the leash a half-dozen times and tripped me once. I'll take it."

Noah found himself awed and a little humbled by the dog's resiliency. Only a few days in, and he was much less skittish. He also seemed to take Noah's presence in stride and was eager for his company, judging by the active wag of his tail.

The dog stuck his nose in the air and zipped into the pantry where they kept the dry goods before Noah could stop him. "Hey, you can't go in there! What if an inspector finds dog hair on the floor?" He went to corral the mutt, but Chance's nose was intent on a space between the floor and a bottom shelf. Noah gave his collar a tug, but the pup wouldn't budge.

"What's so interesting, buddy?"

Dixie materialized beside Noah, and Chance looked up for a beat before returning to his investigation.

"If he sniffs any harder, he's going to roll up the floor," she deadpanned.

"Yeah, maybe he lost a toy." Except this was the first time Chance had been in the off-limits room. "I'll grab a flashlight and see what's under there."

"When I got here this morning, the back door was unlocked." Dixie jerked her chin toward said door.

Noah's brows pinched together. "I was the last one out, and I know I locked it because Cha—Lex was tugging at his leash, and I had to tell him to sit."

He stepped to the door and examined it and the jamb while Dixie peered over his shoulder. "It hasn't been forced. Is anything missing?"

She shook her head. "Not that I've been able to tell so far."

"Well, let me know if you see anything that looks out of place."

"Yessir, boss."

He steered Chance toward the apartment stairs, following him up to get the pooch settled before searching for a flashlight. When he remembered it was downstairs in his office, he closed the door and jogged down the steps, where Dewey stopped him with questions about the inventory.

He detoured to the fridge with Dewey, who pointed at various containers. "Do I give them the heave-ho?"

Why Dewey insisted on this same conversation week after week was beyond Noah. But he didn't have the bandwidth to argue with the stubborn old coot. With a resigned sigh, he repeated the same tired refrain. "If the containers are dated before today, then yes, they go. Anything with today's date that doesn't get used up by the end of the night also goes. No exceptions."

Just as predictably, Dewey hauled out the same worn argument. "But that stuff's expensive, boss. One day won't hurt."

"It will if we get a surprise inspection."

"Ain't gonna happen. I made sure you passed with flying colors in January. 'Member?" Dewey's grimace widened.

"That was January. Inspectors come from all different counties and change all the time. I appreciate you looking out for my bottom line, but toss it." Noah pivoted and nearly collided with Dixie holding out the dog's leash. "Where did you find Chan—uh, Lex Luthor's leash?"

Her eyebrows stitched together. "Right where you left it on the floor. Why do you keep calling him Lex Luthor when his real name's Chance?"

Noah narrowed his eyes. "What makes you say that?"

She jammed a hand on her hip. "When are you going to admit I know everything that goes on around here? For instance, your pigtailed Fr?ulein just waltzed in with some magazine model. They're at table five."

"What?"

She pointed a finger in the general direction of the dining room, which was currently out of sight behind a wall. "Hailey Bailey."

"Hailey's here?" He sounded stupid even to his own ears.

"Yes, with a man who could have walked out of a Calvin Klein underwear ad. Who is he?"

Irritation flared inside him. "You're the one who knows ‘everything that goes on around here,' so you tell me," he snapped.

"I'll go see what I can find out." Her nose inched up as she spun away from him.

Shit. I shouldn't have talked to her like that. Noah's knotted shoulders relaxed a tic when he remembered Hailey couldn't go out with him tonight because she had a business dinner. Why hadn't she mentioned it was at his restaurant, though? Wait. Did business dinners usually involve Calvin Klein underwear models?

Noah's annoyance ebbed as he reminded himself he had her all to himself Friday night. Take that, boss man.

He straightened, yanked on his rolled-up cuffs, and nonchalantly strolled behind the bar, where he busied himself counting glasses and inventorying bar towels. Sliding his gaze up to the reflection in the bar's mirrored back wall, he watched as Dixie stood at a table talking to Hailey and someone Noah couldn't see because Dixie blocked his view. From what he could tell of Hailey's outfit, she wasn't dressed to impress. She was back in a roomy sweater, and her face was scrubbed free of makeup. He began whistling, and she swiveled her head his way, caught his eye in the mirror, and quickly looked down.

Huh. Not the reaction he expected. Not that he expected any reaction. He was simply going about his regular routine. Nothing to see here, folks. When Hailey darted another look his way, he returned a frown. She shrugged her shoulders and buried her nose in the menu.

He turned away from the mirror and faced the dining room, taking in a fuller view. At her feet was a work-looking backpack, which made him gust out a puff of relieved air. This was a working meal, not a date.

Dixie sauntered away from the table, and Noah got his first look at the underwear model. Shit, the guy was fucking pretty! A younger version of Tom Brady, right down to the chin dimple. And he was looking at Hailey like he wanted her for dinner. Hailey wore an expression that switched between bored and impatient.

As he sometimes did with bar patrons, Noah studied them, imagining their dynamic. The dude might have been her boss, but he was a Ken doll trying to impress the smart girl so he could make time with her, and she was on to him. Her body language screamed, "No way, José." A conversation erupted in Noah's head where Hailey told the guy to get stuffed. Then his fabricated exchange took a major detour to her with Noah, alone in his apartment, where her body language sent far different messages. "I'm so hot for you, Noah. Take me now and—"

Dixie slapped the bar top. "One Herradura Reposado and one house red wine for table five."

"Herradura Reposado?" Noah scoffed as he plucked up a tulip-shaped glass. "That the best he can do?" Cheapskate.

Dixie's painted eyebrow rose to her hairline. "It's for her."

"Oh. Good choice." He busied himself fixing their drinks.

Dixie's other eyebrow lifted. "Kind of a skimpy pour on that red wine, isn't it?"

Noah splashed a little more into the glass. "There. Happy?"

She grinned. "Oh, I'm ecstatic."

At least one of us is.

God, the dinner hadn't even started, and Hailey was praying for it to end already. She fought to keep her eyeballs pointed at Cliff or, at the very least, in the opposite direction from the delectable stud currently glaring at them from behind the bar. She didn't need the distraction, nor did she need him to come over, get all friendly, and spill the beans about how she'd been waiting tables for him last night. Fortunately, Dixie had kept her comments to the vague, "Evening, Fr?ulein." Cliff hadn't seemed to register the confusing greeting.

Sheesh.Who knew helping someone out could become so complicated?

Any time her gaze happened to stray Noah's way, his eyes would lock on to hers like a damn tractor beam, so she bit her lip—hard—anytime the temptation to glance that way overtook her. Either she wouldn't look at Noah the rest of the night or she'd wind up with a bloody lip.

Chin in her hand, she pretended to listen as Cliff blathered away. Being stuck with a narcissist had one advantage: he was so in love with the sound of his own voice that she didn't need to participate in the conversation.

She snapped back to the present when he said, "Uh, Hailey? Maybe you didn't hear me." Her wolfish dinner companion chuckled. "People tell me I look like Tom Brady all the time."

Oh, I heard you all right.

She sipped her tequila. "Really? Oh, that's too bad."

Cliff's half-smile told her he wasn't sure if she was joking. That expression transformed into a frown. "You don't like him?"

"He was a great football player. But his looks? Completely overrated. They don't do a thing for me." I'm into dark-haired, bearded bartenders with green eyes. She flashed Cliff her brightest smile. "Maybe this is a good time to talk about tomorrow's schedule?"

"Yeah, okay, except I don't have the whole thing put together yet." He took in the mostly full bar while continually ducking his head, as though he didn't want anyone to notice him looking around. "What do you think of this place?"

"I think it's charming. Pub food is what it is, but it looks like it's a cut above, with generous portions, and the presentation is appealing. The bartender's a little OCD about keeping his area tidy, but that's a good thing in our line of work, right?" Hailey itched to tell Cliff the kitchen was equally clean, but then she'd have to explain how she had come to learn that particular factoid—and possibly get herself fired.

His eyebrow dipped. "Have you eaten here? The waitress called you some weird name."

Hailey let out a hyena laugh. "What? No." God, and now she was lying! She dropped her voice. "The waitress looks a little eccentric. She probably has all kinds of names for her patrons."

Cliff made a hmphing sort of noise and pulled out a pocket-sized notebook. "Still waiting on confirmation for tomorrow's inspections, but unlike today, I won't be talking to any of them ahead of schedule, so I won't have to allocate those extra minutes. Gives us more time to play."

Her brain blared alarms, but it wasn't the leer at the end of his comment that set them off. "Are you saying you had a conversation with Dell's prior to today's walk-through? Were they alerted we were coming?"

He looked up from the booklet. "What? No." She wasn't the only one at this table who was lying. He must have read her skepticism because he continued with, "Did I say I gave them a heads-up?"

"Not specifically, but—"

"I'd like to remind you that I have the discretion whether or not to give notice."

Not if you're violating department protocol.

"I simply don't understand why we'd warn one restaurant and not another." Why alert the one in the first place?

"Don't overthink, Hailey. Just stick to the job you're good at," he cautioned with an edge to his voice.

She straightened and crossed her arms over her chest.

Cliff leaned forward and flashed his politician's smile. "You're cute when you get riled up."

And he's crossed the inappropriate dividing line again! Fuming, she ground her back molars. "I. Am. Not. Riled. Up."

A shadow loomed beside their table. "Everything okay here?" Noah wore a casual expression he turned first on Cliff, then on her. "Anything I can get you?" A million messages seemed to stream behind his eyes, but she couldn't read any of them.

Yeah, outta here, she wanted to say, but she kept that to herself and ordered a burger instead. The sooner she could eat, the sooner she could leave.

Cliff gave her a bewildered look. "I haven't even looked at the menu. I was also thinking of ordering another glass of wine first. You know, take our time?"

Oh God, he was going to drag this meal out. Hailey faked a yawn. "I need to make this an early night." Snatching up her bag, she stood. "Why don't you figure out your order while I head to the ladies' room?" She scurried toward the restroom, where she spied a familiar form rounding out of sight into the kitchen.

"Dixie?" she hissed.

The woman turned, her blue eyeshadow sparkling in the dim light. Her fuchsia lips curved into a generous smile. "Why, hello, china doll. So nice of you to patronize our establishment."

Hailey extracted a plastic bundle from her bag and thrust it at her.

"What's this?"

"It's the tavern maid costume. I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to wash it."

Dixie shoved the packet right back. "Keep it, honey. No one else will be able to do for it what you did."

"But I don't want it." Hailey held it out.

Dixie slipped Hailey's bag off her shoulder, stuffed the bundle inside, and slid the strap back over her shoulder. Her smile never wavered. "Sure you do. Now you're all set for Halloween." She patted Hailey's cheek. "I gotta get back to work before the boss catches me goofing off. You know what a slave driver he is."

"Too late," came Noah's deep voice.

"Bye, now." Dixie disappeared.

Noah rested a forearm on the wall above Hailey's head and leaned in. Pulling in his familiar woodsy smell, she grew a bit woozy. Then came that deep, velvety voice that washed over her in warm waves. "What were you and Dixie passing back and forth?"

"Last night's getup, but Dixie insists I keep it for Halloween. Ha!"

"Or … you could model it for me sometime." The sexy man waggled his eyebrows, and heat ignited and spread from her core. "Is that guy really your boss?"

"He's more of a supervisor, but I have to play nice even when I don't want to." She hefted the shoulder strap a little higher, putting distance between them.

He leaned in closer, taking away the space she'd just created. "Do you need me to run interference?"

"No, I'm good, but thanks for the offer." She wriggled away from him. "How's Chance?"

"What's going on back here?" The Tom Brady-wannabe crammed himself into the narrow hallway, his gaze bouncing between them.

"I, um, got lost, so the owner here was just showing me where to go." Hailey flapped her hand at Noah, who didn't budge.

Cliff blinked. "You're the owner?"

Noah straightened and extended his hand. He had about an inch in height on Cliff. "Noah Hunnicutt."

Cliff took it and pumped hard. "Cliff Meissner. I'm Hailey's … friend."

"Colleague," she corrected.

"Boss," Cliff tossed back.

"Hailey's bossy friend," Noah offered dryly. The look he gave Cliff could have cut glass.

"More of a friendly boss." Cliff laughed. He was the only one who did.

Hailey ducked between them. "If you gentlemen will excuse me …" Coward that she was, she dashed for the bathroom, with Kaylee's warning about staying vigilant squawking in her head.

Several minutes after she'd barricaded herself inside, someone knocked softly.

Her voice came out as a squeak. "Y-yes?"

Noah's baritone sounded from the other side of the door. "Hey, surfer girl, in case you're hiding in there, the coast is clear."

She cracked the door and looked up at Noah's amused face. "I wasn't hiding. I was … taking a potty break."

"Well, the guy you're eating with went back to the table. Dewey is speeding up your orders, and they'll be out any minute."

She puffed out a breath that ruffled her hairline. "Am I that obvious?"

"To me? Totally. To him? No, you're safe. He doesn't have a clue."

"I forgot you have that bartender superpower where you can read people." The fact that Noah got her warmed her everywhere.

"Sometimes." He canted his head to the side. "Meeting your … whatever Cliff is to you made me realize I still don't know what it is you do."

And in a snap, the warm feeling evaporated. Oh boy. She wasn't ready for this conversation yet. "I'll explain more on Friday night, but in a nutshell, I'm a biologist, and I work for the health department. I protect the public from environmental hazards." Oh Lord! Now he probably thought she was trying to pass herself off as Joan of Arc.

The patch between his brows arranged itself in neat pleats. "Like a lab tech? You test radon levels or look for lead in paint? That kind of thing?"

She gave a slight nod, hating the deception. "I better finish up and get back before my pay gets docked." With that, she closed the door on him, leaned her back against it, and began box breathing to calm her racing pulse. The chaos of childhood had taught her how to zen herself into a serene space, but right now finding that calm was akin to an Olympic marathon.

She returned to the table moments before their food arrived. While her appetite was in a state of flux, Cliff dug right in. Fortunately, munching his French dip kept him preoccupied, and the rest of the meal passed without drama. He didn't even bother inviting her back to his room for a drink afterward, though she'd been prepared with the excuse she had to catch up on work.

The tavern wasn't crowded, and Noah had disappeared during their meal—probably to check on Chance, and she felt a little pang of longing. Whether it was for the dog or the man, she couldn't say.

Sipping the last of her tequila, she pushed away her half-full plate. Cliff eyed her food, but before he could ask to finish it for her, Dixie ninja-ed her way in and whisked away their plates.

"I'll put this in a doggie box for you, hon. It'll make for a great breakfast or midnight snack."

A frown etched on his face, Cliff watched her walk away. "I wonder if her makeup ever falls into the food." Before Hailey could bark out a laugh, he turned back to her. "I have an early-morning meeting, so why don't we meet in the hotel lobby at nine? We have a big day ahead of us."

She didn't hide her surprise. "A meeting here? In Fall River?" Maybe he meant a Zoom call.

He waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it."

She wouldn't. "Where are we going, and what are we doing during our ‘big day' anyway?"

He lowered an eyebrow. "Do you always ask so many pesky questions?"

"Uh, I was just curious about what's in store."

"You'll find out tomorrow."

Okaaaay.

Dixie delivered Hailey's leftovers and presented the check to Cliff.

Hailey collected her bag and pointed to the check. "You've got this, right?" He'd have an easier time justifying a dinner for two people on his expense report.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Thanks. See you in the morning." She sent him a backward wave as she dashed out the door. Hopping into her 4Runner, she was grateful for the quick escape.

Back at the Loose Moose, she brushed her teeth and gathered her hair into a ponytail when a text chimed on her phone.

Noah: You left before I could say good-bye again.

Hailey: Sorry. Saw an opportunity to escape a dull dinner and took it.

Noah: Understandable. Want some company? Chance and I could stop by with some really GOOD tequila.

Aw, so sweet, but if she let Noah in, he might press her about the job again. In fact, maybe that was his real motivation for coming over, and she couldn't have that.

Hailey: Already in my pj's and settling in to get some work done before I fall asleep. Rain check?

Noah: Sure. Sweet dreams, surfer girl.

His words sent an unexpected cascade of tingles through her bloodstream. She lay down on the couch and flung an arm over her head, sorting her knotted thoughts. She couldn't remember a man giving her the chills like this one did.

Had she fallen for him? And why did he have to be the guy every other girl fell for?

Noah possessed the quiet confidence of someone at ease running his world, and that self-assurance drew her like metal to a magnet—not to mention the hard body and those gemstone eyes. The entire gorgeous package was intoxicating and dazed her whenever he was nearby. Did it matter that he came from the princely strata?

A pairing of Fall River royalty,Amy had said. They may not wear crowns, but the old guard likes matching their offspring. She'd added that hanging with the commoners was one thing for the town's upper crust, but if they were getting married and creating babies, it was with others from the same caste. Not that Hailey was looking for matrimony and motherhood—yet—but that sort of mindset didn't bode well for a long-term relationship between have and have-not.

Hailey's heart sank. Who would have thought that sort of interplay existed in a little old mining town, especially when one contemplated the hard cut of a nineteenth-century miner? Then again, it wasn't unlike surfing royalty where the "best of the best" intertwined with the other cream of the sport.

She was no refined princess, nor would she ever be. She was sand and grit from the pauper class and wasn't suited for someone of his status. But damn it, there was an undeniable charge between them, and she wanted to know where that could lead. Maybe he wanted to take a break from the upper crusties and slum a little, and if that was the case, did she want to be that girl?

So many mysteries. Friday night would be a good start to solving them.