24. Humble Pie Is a Bitter Pill

Noah stood by anxiously while Neve prodded Chance's ribs. She'd checked his eyes, his mouth, stuffed a thermometer up the poor dog's butt, and inspected his neck. "What do you think, Doc?"

She pulled back, looking mighty pleased. "If I hadn't seen this dog myself when he first arrived, I wouldn't guess he'd been through such a hellish ordeal. He still needs to put on weight, but he's already gained two pounds, and he's healed so fast I can barely find evidence of his trauma. Are you feeding him some kind of miracle drug?"

"No, just lots of TLC and a ton of attention, especially now that I don't have a bar to run."

Neve pulled off her latex gloves. "I didn't say so at the rink earlier, but I'm really sorry you were shut down. Selfishly speaking, I miss my favorite hangout."

This surprised and delighted him. "So if I reopened tomorrow—with the health department's blessing, of course—you'd come back?"

"In a heartbeat! Come on, Noah, we grew up together, so I know how fussy you are, which means I also know you're no slacker when it comes to keeping your place clean. So does everyone else in this town. From what I know of that health inspector guy, he's a real piece of work."

"He did find mice, though." That reality continued to puzzle Noah. Why only in the pantry? Why hadn't Noah caught any?

"Well, that's unfortunate, but it also sounds like you drew the short straw. I heard he was positively gleeful."

"Don't forget Hailey played a part in it too," he grumbled. And now Noah found himself with a contemptible offer from the king of assholes.

Neve turned her back to him while she washed her hands. "She didn't have much choice. He blindsided her. And when she stood up to him, she paid a hefty price."

His brows crashed together. "What do you mean?"

Neve yanked a few paper towels from the dispenser with more force than necessary and dried her hands. "You didn't hear? He stranded Hailey the other night. Amy had to go pick her up in Ridgway, and Hailey was a mess. She came in yesterday morning to have me take a look at her wrist, but all she would say is that she slipped on ice. That doesn't explain the fat lip or the bruise on her cheekbone. Plus, she was working a little too hard trying to brush it off as nothing."

Shock rooted him to the spot. "That explains why she yelped when Dixie grabbed her wrist. That was before she got a brace." The smudge on her cheek this morning rocketed back into his consciousness. "And she has a bruise on her face? I saw something, but I thought it was dirt."

"She's done a good job concealing it with makeup, so it's a little hard to see. And don't you dare tell her I told you."

"Is she okay?"

"I took some X-rays. No fractures that I could see, but I advised her to get an MRI. I don't know if she'll follow through. She headed off to buy that brace instead."

"What do you think happened?" He scratched Chance's ears when the dog pressed against his legs.

Neve crossed her arms, leveling him with a hard stare. "I think that bastard attacked her, and that's why she up and quit so suddenly. I don't know her well, but she doesn't seem like the type to do anything drastic—especially when she's stranded in a strange town. Anyway, Amy and I have been connecting the dots, and they don't paint a pretty picture." Neve wadded up the towels and tossed them into a pop-lid trash can. "You might want to check in with Amy. She has more details."

Noah could barely control the seething inside. "I think I'll check with Hailey instead." His voice came out in a snarl he hadn't intended.

Neve didn't flinch. "Good luck with that." She gave him a head bob. "Kinda interesting, when you think about it."

His hands shook when he leashed Chance. "What?"

"She's only been here a week, but it feels like she's part of our town, you know? And I don't like anyone messing with one of us."

"Neither. Do. I."

Noah clipped Chance into his restraint in the backseat, and the dog didn't resist. He probably sensed the rage waving off Noah, and it frightened him. Noah rubbed the pup's head. "You're a good dog. I don't understand how—"

An image of Inspector Pretty Boy hitting Hailey flashed in his mind's eye. He fired up his truck, and his pulse kicked into the next gear right along with it. A few minutes later, he turned into the tavern's rear parking lot and parked beside Charlie's truck, telling himself to calm the fuck down.

He walked inside, calling, "Don't drink all my beer. I'm going to need it someday when I reopen."

"Don't be an asshole," his brother's voice wandered back. "I'm taking care of some repairs while things are quiet." Charlie poked his head around the corner and launched into a litany of projects he had lined up for the tavern. Noah's mind buzzed as he tried to cool his thoughts, and he registered maybe half.

"If you don't have a security system on that list, add one." Noah stood back while Chance climbed the stairs and nudged the door open with his nose. Huh. He must know this is home.

"Roger that."

"And while we're talking about projects, did you tell Hailey the Freemans said she could stay at the Moose while you continue working on it?"

"Yep."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

Charlie's eyebrows disappeared under this hair. "Why would I? Every time I mention her, you practically take my head off. No, thanks."

Noah stifled the urge to scowl. Damn it, Charlie was right. "I'm gonna run an errand. Can you keep an eye on Chance?"

"Sure. Want me to take him home with me when I'm done so he can have a play date with my dogs?"

"You think he's ready for that?" Charlie's dogs were chill like him, so the suggestion didn't raise any red flags.

"Only one way to find out."

"Sure. Let's try."

Ten minutes later, Noah straightened his frame in front of the Loose Moose, swallowed a gulp of air, and knocked. Hailey whipped open the door, and a frown overtook her pretty features. She held a phone between her shoulder and ear. "Uh, sorry, Kayl. Some pesky salesperson wants to sell me magazine subscriptions." She gave Noah a pointed look.

I'm not leaving, surfer girl. "Can I come in?" he mouthed.

With an eye-roll and a hand flap, she motioned him in and closed the door. He studied her split lip and surveyed her cheekbone for telltale bruising, though he couldn't make out any definite marks in the shadows playing over her face. The pleats between her brows made baby pleats. He could hear a tinny voice on the other end, and Hailey nodded as if agreeing with the caller. She turned and trod through the open living slash kitchen area to a rectangular dining table covered by scattered papers in organized chaos. Unsure where to go, he parked himself by the front door to give her a semblance of privacy, though he followed her with his eyes as she paced the perimeter of the table. She wore the same outfit from Amy's this morning but had removed the boots, and her thick wool socks cushioned her footfalls.

"Yes, I know," she told the caller, who had to be her sister. "Trust me, I'm working on that, and if you'd let me get off the phone, I can do it as soon as we hang up." She paused and darted him looks, seeming to grow more flustered as the minutes ticked by. Finally, she covered the bottom of the phone and hissed, "What do you want?"

"I'll tell you when you're done," he hissed back.

This garnered him another eye-roll, which wasn't the reaction he'd hoped for, but she wasn't going to get rid of him until he said what he'd come to say.

Hailey bent over to jot something down, the phone still braced between her shoulder and ear, keeping her left wrist tucked against her body. Another vision of her pretty-boy boss striking her ratcheted up a brand of crazy he hadn't known he was capable of. An urge to rip down a few walls on his way to separating the arrogant asshole's head from his body flared in his belly.

What kind of man attacks a woman? The same kind who would break a dog's bones and put out cigarettes on his hide.

Calm down, he told himself. It wasn't his fight unless she asked him to join it. For now, he needed to put the desire aside and fake a blandness that was nowhere on his emotional spectrum.

Finally, she ended the call and put the phone down. She crossed her arms and cinched her brows at the same time. "What can I do for you?"

He closed the distance between them. "I came to say I'm sorry."

She drew back, suspicion shining in her frosty blue eyes. "For?"

Jesus, she was gorgeous.

"I thought you were the one responsible for shutting me down. I was pissed."

"So you're no longer pissed?"

"Oh, I'm pissed all right, but it's not all directed at you anymore."

Her eyes seemed to grow icier, making her even more beautiful. "And this is your apology?"

Now it was his turn to be wary. "Uh, pretty much." This wasn't going the way he'd envisioned, and something told him he was either saying it all wrong or she was taking it all wrong. His alarm system fired up.

"Wow. Excuse me while I recover after being blown away over here," she snipped.

"I get it now. You were in a difficult position with your boss," he offered—generously, or so he believed—hoping to steer the conversation toward what said boss had done to her. He debated simply kissing her and stopping the conversation altogether, warming instantly to that plan.

"Too bad this insight failed you before," she scoffed.

No kissing happening anytime soon, dumbass.

His anger stirred. "Hey, let's not forget that little detail about you lying to me." Her face fell, and so did his indignation. "Look, this isn't easy for me. I just wanted you to know that I know it wasn't all your fault."

"You think it's easy for me?" she warbled. Panic flooded him. Was she going to cry? Her voice evened out, and she continued. "You're not the only one whose livelihood was affected here."

"Yeah, well, I didn't choose to shut my restaurant down, whereas you had the option to stay or quit."

Her eyes sharpened. "You can leave now."

He gawped at her. "What?"

"You delivered your apology. Your conscience is now clear, so we're done here."

Her words slapped him across the jaw. The woman was infuriating. "Hang on a minute. You've taken my apology and twisted it around. I'm just telling it like it is." His anger was taking over again, and while he knew he was being a jackass, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Fine. I'm a jerk. Tell yourself whatever you need to believe and go already." She waved a dismissive hand. "Bye, now."

Though she was pushing every single one of his hot buttons, he remained rational enough to understand she wasn't a jerk, but somehow, he couldn't get the words out. Instead, he blurted, "I know how you can make it up to me."

She jammed her good wrist on her jutted hip. "Are you serious right now?"

"Dead serious. I'll even pay you."

"What the hell for?"

"I'm planning on reopening, and I'll need a re-inspection for that. I've never gone through this process before, and I want advice from someone who is … who was on the inside and knows how it works. Give me an hour or two of your time, walk me through it, and I'll pay you. Like a consultant. Name your rate." The idea intrigued her. He could read it in her eyes.

Though still guarded, she softened her tone. "When?"

"Now?"

She shook her head, and her sunlit strands swished around her shoulders. "Can't right now."

He groaned out his frustration. "Then when?"

She tipped her right wrist—the good one—where she'd apparently moved her Mickey Mouse watch. "I can stop by at five thirty and give you one hour." She held up her pointer. "One. That's it."

"That works." He nearly fist-pumped in triumph as he left her bungalow.

If he thought their bad blood would be dried and buried by the time she arrived, he was sadly mistaken. When he opened the back door for her, she marched in with mad in her step.

"Let's get this over with," she ground out. Her hair was pulled back now in a tight ponytail, and he found himself wanting to loosen it and tangle his fingers.

How could a woman who exasperated him to his limits cause every nerve ending inside him to fire at the same time? He needed his head examined for the loose screw that was surely rattling around in there. "Wow. You hate me so much you can't wait to get away from me?"

"Let's leave personal feelings out of this and stick to business. Now tell me what you've done so far to get ready to reopen."

Thank God they were alone so no one else could witness her verbally manhandling him.

"I've scheduled an exterminator. The earliest they could come is Tuesday." He led her toward the pantry.

"Have you set your own traps in the meantime?"

"Yes, but I haven't caught anything. That's good, right?"

She ignored his question. "What kind of traps are you using?"

He told her, and she gave him an approving nod as she flipped on a flashlight and knelt in front of the shelving. She bent over, her perfect round rump in the air. While she studied the space where the mice had been, he studied the mouthwatering contours of her body and pictured his hands on every single one.

Damn it!

Apparently, he harbored more than one loose screw.

Jamming his hands in his front pockets, he blithered, "Once I have a clean bill of health from the exterminators, they'll submit the paperwork to the health department. I'll apply for a re-inspection after and hope like hell they can fit me in soon. And—no offense—send me a different inspector."

She struck out for the kitchen. "Let's go through your practices. Then we'll review some strategies to get your re-inspection sped up." She was all crisp, commanding efficiency he found irritatingly hot. "It wouldn't be a bad idea to come up with some marketing around your reopening, something that'll lure people back in."

"Like a twofer on beer or something?"

She began poking through shelves that held stainless bowls. "Something along that vein, though maybe add something else, like half-price appetizers between four and six. Unfortunately, it means a loss leader, but the idea would be to make it up—and then some—with volume."

He leaned his hip against a counter and folded his arms across his chest, huffing, "I may not have an MBA, but I do know how this works."

She whirled. "Oh, excuse me for trying to help."

He shrugged off her snark. "I have a better way you can help, and there's something in it for you too. You're out of a job, Amy only has part-time for you, and I'm looking for a good waitress. I know it's not your dream job, but between the two places, it'll keep money coming in."

She blinked, and he took advantage of the pause by sliding an envelope from the pocket of his hoodie and holding it out to her. "I didn't get around to donating this yet. I figure you could use it."

"I don't want your handout," she snapped.

He exhaled an exasperated breath. "It's not a handout. It's money you earned, Hailey. I've got a bad enough reputation to overcome. I don't want people thinking I don't pay my staff on top of it."

She pursed her lips, seeming to consider. "I don't want to take work away from Dixie or Luanne."

"Are you kidding me? They've been double-shifting forever and would love to unload some of their work."

She eyed the envelope suspended between them. "What kind of strings are attached?"

"Only one. If you want to skate, you're learning from me." Where the hell that had come from, he had no idea. Normally, he was in full control of his mouth, but not around this particular woman.

Her eyes and mouth formed perfect O's, and her cheeks pinkened adorably. "Um, thank you." She stretched tentative fingers toward it but didn't quite touch. "Will you keep it for me while I think about it?"

"Of course." He tossed the envelope on the counter next to him and threw caution into the deep fryer. "If we're going to work together, we need to clear out the elephant in the room. I'll start by getting this off my chest: I don't like what you did. I not only had the rug pulled out from under me by the inspection, but I was blindsided at the very same time when I learned what you actually did for a living. You're no biologist studying microbes floating around in drinking water."

"Actually, I am." If flames could burn blue inside ice, they did so in Hailey's glacial stare.

"You know what I mean." His chin rose a defiant inch. His resolve listed, but pride was like a barnacle clinging to a sinking ship.

"Not really. And while we're dispensing with pachyderms, let me add that I don't like that you immediately jumped to the conclusion I was complicit in Cliff's … in this mess."

"I never said that."

He beckoned her toward his office. Falling in beside him, she slid him the side-eye. "Maybe not, but you implied it with your comment. You didn't even bother to ask if I had any prior knowledge! I didn't get a shot before you tried and convicted me. That's wrong, Noah."

And now his resolve listed crazily because damn! He both loved and hated the fire that blazed inside her. His entire life, people had told him what he wanted to hear because they wanted something from him. Not this girl. She wanted nothing from him. Needed nothing from him. And she was sure enough of herself to call him on his bullshit and whack it right back in his face like a ninety-nine-mile-an-hour slapshot. Her confidence was maddening and hot as fuck.

He unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter. "Why did you hold out on me? You've been dodging that question ever since I first asked it." Yeah, he was pushing, but this sexually charged, prickly, seesawing dance they were doing around each other's jagged edges had him by the throat. It made him come alive, as if his blood crackled with electrical current.

Barely inside his office, she twirled and faced him as he stood in the open doorway. "I wanted to lay it all out there, believe me, but the longer it went, the harder it became. I'd decided to tell you tomorrow night, but then Cliff happened, and here we are. Oh, and of course, you canceled on me." She inched her nose in the air.

The comment took him aback, and he fired off a barrage of questions. "You expected me not to cancel? Like we were supposed to sit down over tea and crumpets and pretend none of this happened? Would you have wanted to keep the date if the tables were turned?"

Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again.

"Yeah, exactly," he smugly agreed.

"Have you gotten in with Silver Summit yet?" she fired back.

Shit. He hadn't thanked her yet. "About that—"

"Did they call you or not?" she bit out.

"Ursula did and—"

She made a disgusted little noise and executed an epic eye-roll aimed right at him.

He leveled her with a glower. "Would you stop acting so snotty? I'm trying to tell you that whatever you did up there worked and that I appreciate it. Yes, I have a meeting."

"Oh." Contrition flashed in those beautiful blues but was quickly replaced by caution. She didn't trust him.

Because frustration festered, and he was a moron who couldn't leave well enough alone, he needled her to get a rise. "Ursula called and set it up. She was awesome. She even apologized for not doing it sooner. We talked, and it almost felt like old times—the good ones." By the time the newsflash reached his thick brain that he'd laid it on way too heavy, it was too late.

Her wariness shifted into a lofty sneer. "Hmm … apparently the technique works."

The words, dripping with sarcasm, confused him. "What technique?"

"Everyone around here knows a Hunnicutt only has to snap his fingers and women line up for their turn."

His barely leashed temper detonated, but he kept his voice cucumber-cool. "Oh, so you heard about that. Yeah, it works every damn time. Like last night, and the night before, and the night before that. Snap, snap." And yes, he snapped his fingers for effect because not only was he a total idiot, but he was in full dick mode.

Hailey stunned him quiet when she closed the distance between them, pushed up on her toes, and stared him down … or up, since the crown of her head barely reached his chin.

He returned the glower and snapped his fingers again.

Indignation transformed her features. "You arrogant prick! You actually believe that would work on me?"

The magma chamber of emotions inside him boiled and heaved. In one move, he slammed the door shut behind him and reached for her, spinning her shoulders so her back hit the wood slab. Heart thudding against his rib cage, he pressed his body flush to hers, pinning her in place, his forearms caging her in without touching. Her chest, mere millimeters from his, rose and fell in time with his as her breaths rushed in and out.

Shock replaced the annoyance reflected in her gaze. "W-what the hell, Noah?"

The saner side of him asked the same question, but the primal side of him ignored them both. It wanted what it wanted and was on a mission of its own—to conquer, to tame her, to make her recognize he was worthy of her. Shit rooted in antiquity and as tangled as it was befuddling.

His logical mind couldn't keep up with the switchbacks of their heated exchange, but it was overrun by his body firing off one reaction after another, holding itself rigidly against her, his muscles taut, the power in them coiled.

Their eyes stayed locked on one another in a stubborn death glare, neither willing to budge first. He became aware of two things: the scent of honeysuckle drifting off her warm skin and the bruise on her cheekbone floating into view. The mark yanked him back to himself. He was behaving no better than the asshole who'd hit her. Easing away, putting a few inches of space between them, he studied the angry island of purple and blue amid a sea of unblemished ivory. Without thinking, he feathered the back of his index finger over it, wishing he could erase it. She seemed to release a breath she'd been holding but didn't resist his touch, pressing into it instead.

"For the record," he murmured, "I don't believe you'd put up with anything as crass as me snapping my fingers, and I'd be disappointed if you did. Also for the record, I don't snap my fingers and make women come running. Even if I had that superpower, I'm pretty sure I'd want to trade it in for something way more practical, like conjuring ketchup out of thin air when we run out."

The storm in her eyes yielded to soft clouds as he scanned her face. A tiny smile twitched her rosy lips. "Ketchup?"

"Yes, ketchup. Maybe mayo or dill pickles. Pickles are a real bitch sometimes."

A delightful giggle bubbled up inside her, breaking the wild surface tension stretched between them, and his entire body slackened. He trailed his fingertip to her lower lip and traced the cut. "If I ever lay eyes on that fuckwad again, I will tear him limb from limb for what he did to you."

Her eyelids fluttered closed and slowly opened again at half-mast. "Kiss it and make it better, Noah," she whispered.

Her quiet command rocketed through him, firing nerve endings, rewinding muscles once more. His already stiff cock swelled unbearably and strained against his fly. Ignoring its growing insistence, he hovered his mouth an inch from hers, drinking in the moment, pulling her breath into his lungs. Inside, he was a writhing mass of contradictions. A caveman who roared with need to lay claim to her body with roughness and a tender lover who longed to worship her, to devote himself to bringing her all manner of pleasure.

With his forearms still bracketing her head, he planted a soft kiss on her damaged plump lip. He dipped his mouth to the juncture where her neck met her shoulder. She let out one long, sweet sigh and dropped her head back, emboldening him. Her palms were flattened against the door, and she arched her body toward him, as if offering herself to him. Working his way up her smooth throat, he interspersed languid kisses with nips he soothed with his tongue, relishing the taste of salty-sweet skin.

"You make me kinda crazy, but I would never hurt you," he mumbled against her neck.

"I wasn't scared. Kinda turned on, but never scared."

He drew back and peered at her. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm." A lusty laugh broke from her chest. "You're pretty hot when you go all alpha."

He wasn't sure what to do with that. He couldn't remember going "all alpha" before. "Is that good or bad?"

"Depends. This business of snapping your fingers last night and the night before and—"

"Didn't happen. Doesn't happen," he spouted. "And Ursula was so bitchy I couldn't wait to get off the phone. Are we good here?"

Submerging himself in her blue depths, he searched for proof she believed him. She gave him that proof when she ran her fingertip along the side of his cheek and his jawline. Her touch caused tiny chills to spiderweb beneath his beard. Every square inch of his skin blazed for her.

He peppered the corners of her mouth with more kisses. "You're the only woman I want. It's yourface I want to see when I make you come."

Desire flared and darkened her eyes. "We're good," she breathed. "Can we stop talking and move on? Unless we're switching to dirty talk, which I'm totally down with." She placed her soft mouth to his neck and flicked out her tongue.

They were fully clothed and hadn't done a damn thing, but everything about the moment, about being pressed against her, felt sinfully erotic. A switch tripped, and urgency as raw as his anger had been mere moments before bloomed inside him. Instinct locked into a single track. He wanted her naked under him. He wanted to taste her everywhere. He wanted her upstairs.

Her good hand fisted his T-shirt, and she gave it a forceful yank, pulling him off balance and flush to her.

"Show me I'm the only woman you want."