21. Cliff Notes

Questions strafed Hailey's brain like laser bursts from a Star Wars X-wing fighter, and she stood frozen in place. Noah didn't, though. He pounded out of the pantry, and she recoiled from his death glare. She sucked in a slow, steadying breath and, just to give her hands something to do, checked her strands to be sure none had escaped the bun.

Cliff was talking animatedly into his phone as he took video of the tiny carcasses. He had discovered a few more to add to the damning pile. "We have a high priority violation on our hands," he announced with authority. Besides his usual pompous tone, she could have sworn she detected a thread of glee in there.

She needed to move, to do something with the nervous energy pulsing inside her. "I'll take pictures of the room."

He responded with a grunt.

Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, Hailey crouched on the floor and swept her flashlight back and forth beneath the shelving and every other nook and cranny in the room. She took stills and video on both her work and personal phones as she went.

When she was done, she stowed the cameras and held up a mouse by its stiff tail between her gloved thumb and forefinger. "Not exactly ROUSs, are they?" In fact, they reminded her of immature mice from a pet store.

Cliff glanced up at her, and the void behind his eyes had her mentally shaking her head.

"Rodents of Unusual Size?" she offered. "Haven't you seen Princess Bride?" Of course he hadn't. "Never mind."

She kept further comments to herself as they continued prowling the food prep and storage areas. As Cliff moved toward the walk-in, Dewey stepped in his way.

"I need to check the holding temperatures and the contents," Cliff informed him.

"Get out of the man's way, Dewey," Dixie screeched from the front, where she shooed away would-be-diners.

With a grimace Hailey was pretty sure she wasn't mistaking for a smile, Dewey shuffled a few steps and kept a watchful eye on them.

"Ground beef with an expiration date of yesterday," Cliff called from the walk-in. He listed a few more expired items as he furiously jotted down notes. Hailey could have sworn he was enjoying himself.

Noah had disappeared, and there was no sign of Chance or his stuff, thank God. Hailey pictured Noah wearing grooves in the floor as he paced his office or his apartment. This restaurant was everything to him, and they had just shut him down. Her heart hurt for him. It hurt worse when she considered her part in it and the ways she might have staved it off.

So began the blame game and the what-ifs. If only she had come clean with him sooner; if only she had found a way to warn him about the surprise inspection.

But there hadn't been time, nor could she have prevented the mice who'd taken up residence. Something about the rodents niggled at the back of her brain, though, and she tapped a quick note into her phone.

When the nightmare finally ended, Cliff had Hailey prepare a Department of Health sticker that announced to the world the Miners Tavern was closed until further notice. Worse, it listed the reasons for the closure: presence of pests and unsafe food storage. Even after Noah cleared up the violations, the taint would linger for a long time.

Dixie stood like a sentinel beside the front doors as Cliff approached and pulled down a sad handmade sign she'd taped up that simply announced they were temporarily closed. Up went the official notice, and for the first time in Hailey's career, the printed words gave her a harsh slap.

On her way out, she whispered to Dixie, "Please tell Noah I'm so very sorry."

Dixie gave her a noncommittal nod but wouldn't meet her eye. Hailey hurried after Cliff, her heart sitting like a cannonball in her chest and tears threatening to rim her eyes.

Noah raked his hands through his hair, unable to quell the emotions exploding inside him like a bomb. He was done. His restaurant was done. He wanted to hurl. The years of blood, sweat, and money circled the drain, along with people's faith in him. Hell, they were already down the drain and headed to the ocean.

Hailey's vague words about being a biologist looped in his head. She'd set him up! She had known this was coming the entire time, and she'd played along, stroking his ego, fooling him. Was every woman on the planet a backstabber? Or was he simply the lucky guy who attracted them?

"Fuck!"he yelled at the walls. A slew of curse words followed, bursting from him until his lungs were empty.

He dropped his ass onto the couch, propped his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. Cry or throw up? They were the only choices his body presented him.

The door creaked open, but he kept his head down. "Go. Away."

"They, uh, they's gone," Dewey rasped.

Noah looked up at the man whose grimace seemed even more severe.

"The hoochie mama and her sidekick," he explained, as if Noah didn't know who he meant. Then he shuffled his feet. "I'm sorry I-I …"

Noah straightened. "You what?"

"I didn't throw out the meat last night like you told me."

Noah stared at him but had no words.

"They found it," Dewey continued, his obvious guilt pressing his voice lower.

"Of course they did!" Noah thundered. "What did you expect? No rock is too small for these bloodsuckers to turn over."

Dewey hung his weathered gray head.

Noah gusted out a sigh. "Sorry, Dewey. I'm not mad at you. I'm just … mad." When the man didn't respond, Noah pulled in another breath. "Dude, it's not your fault. Besides, they wouldn't have closed us down for food that's a day old."

Dewey looked up. "That's right. They wouldn't have, would they now? Thing is, I ain't never seen a critter in that kitchen, other than the occasional fly in the summer. So how did all them mice get in, and why did they stay in the pantry? Them things scurry all over so they can tell the rest of their buddies where the eats is at. Don't make no sense."

"I don't know, and I don't have any brainpower left to figure it out." Noah rose to his feet. "I'm gonna go spend some time trying to pull myself out of this shithole I got shoved into."

"Anything I can do to help, boss?"

"Yeah. You can button this place up. I'm not planning to set foot in it for the rest of the day." With that, Noah ambled out of the office, locked the door, and turned toward the entrance to his apartment.

"Gonna get yourself good and pickled, huh? That's what I'd do too."

"Nope."

Dewey tipped his head in question.

"He means he's gonna love on his dog," Dixie called from the kitchen.

Noah couldn't hold back a humorless chuckle at her stealth. It was probably the last one that would escape him for the rest of the week.

Reeling yet somewhat numb, Hailey shoved a stray hair behind her ear with trembling fingers. What kind of inspector was she that she couldn't keep her hair under control? Then again, what kind of inspector was she, period? Would she seriously have let her attraction to Noah get in the way of shutting him down for the pest violation?

Don't answer that.

She should never have let herself come under the emerald-eyed spell of a bar owner. It was a conflict of interest. It was bad business. But it was also Noah, a man who had her wanting to break rules.

They were in Cliff's car, headed toward Ridgway, back in Ouray County for the day's final inspection. Not only was the guy all over the place, but she still couldn't puzzle out why he was leading three inspections in the first place. This was her typical day—in a much straighter line, of course—but it wasn't his.

He slid her a look. "Good thing I got that tip. I wonder how many people I saved from being sick. Those mice were nesting in there. I'm sorry I wasn't in time to keep you from being sick, though."

"But I wasn't sick." This time her declaration was halfhearted at best. He wasn't going to believe her, no matter how many times she repeated herself.

She tried a different tack. "You know, Cliff, that place has been in their family since it was built in the eighteen hundreds. They take a lot of pride in their establishment."

"TMI, Hailey. Your interest in this is way too personal," he warned.

The thing that had been niggling at her came to the fore. "Don't you think it's suspicious that we found a few stiff mice—in only one location—and no droppings anywhere? If they were nesting, there would have been more evidence. Shredded bits of stuff for nests, feces, the smell of urine. Plus, they looked like immature domestic mice, not the typical deer mice we get around here."

"Give it up, Hailey, or I'll close the place permanently."

When she took in his expression, she swallowed the ball of distaste wedged in her throat, along with the words dancing on her tongue … words that reminded him his threat was not only improper but borderline illegal. He'd demonstrated he didn't really care about legality, and her job could be on tenterhooks.

He softened his tone in a way that made the hairs on her neck stand up. "You do realize we won't be clocking out at five today."

Boy, did she ever. The lateness didn't bother her—she was used to it—but spending it with him did. How could she get out of dinner at the Grand Majestic?

"I do, yes. Will these be the only inspections in this area?" Please say yes.

"Yeah, why?"

"I was thinking we could head on back to Montrose after we're done. If you take me back to Fall River, I'll get my car and we can skip the fancy dinner and save the taxpayers' money."

He grunted an incomprehensible response.

"What's that?"

"I said that restaurant's closed right now," he gritted out. "They're only open on Friday and Saturday nights this time of year. We'll find someplace else." What the hell was eating him?

As soon as they reached their next target, a pizzeria in a strip mall, she put the question out of her mind, losing herself in the routine of the final inspection, once more flying solo while Cliff did Cliff things. She drew a modicum of comfort from hiding behind the familiar facade of her profession, as though she hunkered behind the wall of a sturdy stone fortress. Yet part of her yearned to climb to the top of that safe wall and race back to the Miners Tavern and explain everything to Noah, right before tucking her tail between her legs and putting Fall River in her rearview mirror. But explanations weren't going to wipe away what went down, were they? Noah would still look at her as though she was no better than the dead vermin Cliff had bagged up.

They clambered back into the Ford SUV at a few minutes past six under a pitch-black sky. The bright lights of the pizza joint reflected off the windshield, bathing the vehicle's interior in reds and oranges. As Cliff started the engine, she pushed out a breath and sank into her seat. In a half hour, she'd be back in Fall River. Cliff would return to his own world and leave her to wallow in hers. Did she dare reach out to Noah, or would he simply dismiss her with a stinging rebuke before she could explain?

Cliff backed out of the parking spot, only to stop at the outer edge of the strip mall's lot where the light didn't reach. She stared out her window for long minutes, debating whether to text Noah and what to say and how to say it. In her window's reflection, she watched as Cliff scrolled through his phone, wondering vaguely what was keeping him from going.

The SUV continued idling, and when it didn't move, she swiveled her head toward him. "Is everything okay?"

He lifted his eyes to hers and smiled in a way that caused a bolt of fear to flip her stomach. Cliff had been all shades of creepy, but he'd never scared her before. Maybe the dashboard's gauges or the light illuminating his phone screen was casting a weird glow on the hard planes of his face, lending him a maniacal look.

He leaned across the console, invading her space, purring, "Everything's great." She shrank away from him until she was plastered against the car door.

He crept closer, his eyes dead and black like a snake's. "I was thinking … it's awfully late to head back to Fall River on these dark, windy roads. It's not safe, so I just got us a room a few blocks away. Let's get a nice meal, relax over some wine, get to really know each other." He gave a leering wink. "I'll get you back bright and early tomorrow. It's not like you're going to need a change of clothes tonight." His finger traced a path from her shoulder down her arm, and she batted it away.

Panic ratcheted up, and her lungs squeezed out every last drop of air. "No," she managed to squeak.

His finger returned. "Oh, come on, Hailey. Ever since we started working together, you've been panting just thinking about riding me." One side of his mouth took on a cruel curve. "Don't be embarrassed. I've been hot for you too."

She willed herself to breathe, willed her larynx to push out her words. "I need to get back."

"No, you don't. I set your schedule, so I know what's on your plate. I'm your boss, not your colleague, remember?" A voice others might call velvety was like something oozing out of a grease gun. "No one needs to know."

He clamped his other hand on her thigh and edged it up, up, up. "Come on, baby. Let's do this. You know you want it."

She shoved it away with both hands, but the hand that had been toying with her arm snatched her bun and jerked her head to him, sending shock waves of pain across her scalp. His mouth crashed down on hers, all slimy tongue and gnashing teeth. The hand she'd shoved away shot beneath her jacket and clawed at her breast, tearing away a button. His grip was strong.

She punched, kicked, and thrashed, but he pulled her into him, and she couldn't gain any purchase. He increased the pressure. While his mouth assaulted hers, he yanked her hand to his crotch and forced it on his erection. Growling deep in his chest, he started thrusting against her hand pressed beneath his. His tongue was so far down her throat she nearly gagged.

Desperate for air, she bit down on his tongue, and he pulled away with a yelp, swiping at his mouth. "Fuck! You made me bleed, you bitch!"

Chest heaving, adrenaline flooding her veins, she clung to her wits and gathered her backpack and her coat. "I said no!"

She grabbed for her phone. Missed. She fumbled for the door handle. Pulled, but nothing happened.

Oh God!

Panic stirred anew, scattering her thoughts in all directions. What if he'd thrown the child locks and she was trapped?

Over her shoulder, he wadded up a napkin and held it to his mouth, pulling it away long enough to snarl, "You've been leading me on this entire fucking time. Get the fuck out of my car! Find your own fucking way back! I am so done with you."

The latch released, and she scrambled out of the car and ran toward the pizzeria. She slipped on the icy blacktop once, recovered, only to slide again and land hard on her wrist. A crunch sounded, and pain shot up her arm.

A man approached from the sidewalk. "Are you okay?" Two men. Large men. Her panic skyrocketed. Light spilling from the pizzeria lit their faces. They were older, maybe in their sixties, and their expressions were filled with concern. Not everyone's a creep, she told herself, and her anxiety leveled out. From the corner of her eye, she saw the SUV peel out, its taillights glowing angry red as it sped onto the main road.

Cliff was gone. The thought both buoyed and terrified her. She wanted him gone, but if he was out of sight, she wouldn't be able to see him coming.

An overpowering urge to weep took hold, but she gulped it down. Her voice, when she recovered it, came out reedy. "Yes. Is there someplace warm I can sit for a minute?"

They helped her up. One gentleman took her backpack while the other one draped her coat over her shoulders. Together, they walked her to a well-lit Thai restaurant and whispered something to the hostess. Hailey hobbled to the table farthest from the front and pulled breath after breath into her lungs.

Inhale, one, two. Hold, one, two. Exhale, one, two. Hold, one, two.

A porcelain cup of steaming tea appeared in front of her. She looked up to thank the server and was dismayed to find her rescuers gone. How much time had passed? When she reached for the cup with her left hand, she winced and reconsidered.

The server, a young Asian woman, peered at her. "You call someone? Maybe they come get you?"

Oh God, my phone!Hailey needed a plan. How would she get back to Fall River, back to her car, back to safety? Without her phone, did she even remember numbers?

"I'll be okay," she croaked. The waitress left, and she continued box breathing while she tried to defog her brain.

She took a bracing sip of the tea and realized someone had placed her backpack on the seat beside her. With her good hand, she unzipped a side pocket, and her hand closed around a phone. Her personal phone! The device she'd left in Cliff's car was her work phone.

The screen came to life when she swiped it, and she scrolled through her texts. Joy bubbled up inside her when Amy's name flashed. They had traded texts the day before to exchange cell numbers.

Oh, thank God!

She pushed the call button for her new friend. Amy picked up on the second ring. "You must have ESP because I was just thinking of inviting you out for a glass of wine."

Hailey let out a screechy laugh. "The wine might have to wait. How do you feel about driving to Ridgway to give me a ride back to Fall River? My 4Runner is at the Loose Moose."

Another Thank God! rattled around her brain. Cliff had never discovered where she was staying.

In halting sentences, Hailey explained why she currently sat in a Thai restaurant sipping tea and nursing a possibly broken wrist under the curious eyes of a handful of diners. She glossed over the worst details, saying instead she and her boss had had a falling out, and now she was stuck.

Do I even have a job anymore? Do I even want that job anymore?

In her head, she repeated the mantra, I am the boss of me.

Amy sounded almost gleeful to be called upon to help. "Of course. Give me five minutes, and I'm out the door." If Hailey could have, she would have reached through the phone and bear-hugged her.

An hour and some minutes later, Hailey forced her shaky hands to open the Loose Moose's door and lock it firmly behind her. She turned the shower on to full-force scalding. Gingerly, she slipped off her clothes and unwound what remained of her forgotten bun. The tears she'd been holding back burst their dam when she faced her reflection in the mirror: a puffy, split lip and Cliff's fingers imprinted in purple on her breast. The image hurt worse than the physical damage because it slammed the horrifying memory against her, turning her knees to water.

By the time the shower was over, she wasn't sure if the cascade of water had come from the showerhead or her.