“That’s Harry.” Zach leaned in closer, having read my mind. “Her daughter, Marcy, owns the motel.”
“Ah.” What kind of a name was Harry?
“I guess Cal’s living there.”
I blinked. “At the motel?”
“Yeah. He rented Marcy’s RV that she parks there.”
“Huh.” I couldn’t picture Cal living in a camper. “How do you know that?”
“Small town.” He shrugged.
And Cal was a topic of conversation.
I tore my eyes away and studied my pancakes. If Cal was making friends, that didn’t bode well for my plan to chase him out of Calamity.
“Nellie.”
My eyes flew to Zach’s face. “Yeah?”
“I asked if your breakfast was okay. You haven’t really touched it.”
“It’s good. Really good. My stomach just isn’t in a great place this morning. And I went a little heavy on the syrup.”
“Oh, sorry. Should we go?”
“No, I’m fine. Finish eating. Please. I think it’s mostly nerves. I’m interviewing for a new assistant later, and those things always make me anxious. I hate turning anyone down.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. I was doing interviews today, and I did hate turning people down. But Cal was the reason my stomach was in knots.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Positive.” I gave him my fullest attention while he finished eating. When he asked me a question, I listened and asked a few in return. I ate a few more bites and did my best to block out Cal. No matter how many times I felt his eyes on me, I looked at Zach and only Zach.
My date. Sort of.
The waitress dropped off the bill, and Zach shifted to dig his wallet from a pocket.
“Don’t even think about it, Hale.” I dove into my purse. “This is my treat today since you’re acting as my chauffeur.”
Zach chuckled and pulled out his credit card. “My mother will have a conniption if she finds out I didn’t buy my date breakfast.”
There was that word again. “Um . . . can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“Is this a date?”
He laughed. “If you have to ask, then I think the answer is no.”
“Sorry.” My shoulders slumped.
“Don’t be.” Zach leaned his elbows on the table. “To be honest, I didn’t think this was a date. I don’t make a habit of dating my sisters’ friends. Gets complicated. Learned that lesson in high school when I dumped one of Kerrigan’s friends and came home to find every single shoe of mine was missing its laces.”
I giggled. “That’s oddly creative.”
“I still don’t know if it was Kerrigan or the friend who stole them.”
“Well, I promise to leave your shoes untouched. And how about we split the check?”
“You got it.”
I placed my card on top of his right before the waitress breezed by, snagging them both. She returned in a flash with two receipts and two pens. We scribbled our names and added a tip, then slid from our booth and started for the exit.
Don’t look. Don’t look.
Cal was staring at me, of that I had no doubt. But I kept my face forward as I followed Zach out the door and into his truck.
It took the entire drive to the office for my heart rate to settle. I waved goodbye to Zach, then headed inside to start my work day. The building was eerily silent as I stopped in the break room to brew a fresh pot of coffee. The drip seemed to echo through the space.
With Pierce at home with Kerrigan and the baby, I’d be the only employee until I could hire an assistant. I’d made the decision this weekend to find someone local, rather than replace the position in Denver.
With a steaming mug in hand, I retreated to my office. Perks of being the first to move in, I chose a corner suite with my own bathroom. The only office larger was Pierce’s.
The view from my windows overlooked the valley. It was like working inside the pages of a National Geographic magazine. Whenever I was sick of staring at my computer screen, I could turn to the glass and get lost in the swaying grasses or trace the mountain peaks as they etched a jagged line in the blue sky.
No honking cabs. No blaring sirens. No humming traffic.
Maybe the silence wasn’t so bad.
My desk was in disarray from the boxes I’d unpacked late last week. One corner had pictures and my framed degree that needed to be hung on the walls. Most of the business texts that were still at home in a closet would come here to fill the empty bookshelf. Maybe by Friday, if I was caught up on work, I could spend a few hours decorating.
I sipped my coffee and replied to a few emails, waiting until my first interview, scheduled for eight. I’d just sent our general counsel a note when the front door dinged, ten minutes early.
“Prompt. Check.” I swept up a notebook and the stack of résumés I’d printed on Friday, then made my way to the lobby.
Except it wasn’t my interviewee standing beneath the vaulted ceiling and its roughhewn beams. It was Cal.
A rush of heat made my limbs feel like jelly. Just one look and my pulse raced. Why him? Of all the men in the world, why did the spark come with Cal?
His dark sweats didn’t do much to hide the strength of his body. The pants molded to his bulky thighs, and the hoodie wrapped around his broad shoulders. His clothes shouldn’t have been sexy, but I’d stripped him out of a similar pair of sweats before. I knew the prize beneath.
He had a hand to his jaw, rubbing at the dusting of stubble. It stilled when he spotted me.
“What are you doing here?” My voice was as harsh as I’d hoped. He had to leave. The office. The county. Montana.
He planted his hands on his hips as I crossed the lobby. His scowl from the White Oak was fixed firmly in place, and instead of answering my question, he asked one of his own. “That was Kerrigan’s brother, right?”
“Zach.” I nodded. “Yes.”
“Are you two dating?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s none of your business.”
“Like hell it’s not. I fucked you on Friday.”
“Do you mind?” I huffed. “This is my place of work.” Yes, I was alone. But what if I wasn’t?
“Answer the question, Nellie. Are you with him?”
Lie. Say yes. “No.”
Damn it. Maybe he could teach me how to be a liar one day.
The tension deflated from his frame.
“Happy now? Please go away. I have work to do.” I turned on a heel, but he stopped me cold with the whisper of my name.
“Nellie.”
God, that voice. The magnet flipped. Push and pull.
“Tell me what you hate about me.”
“Excuse me?” I spun around. Was he joking?
“Tell me what you hate about me,” he repeated.
“We don’t have that much time.” I pointed to the clock on the wall. “I have a meeting in ten minutes.”
He growled. “One thing. Tell me one thing.”
“Cal—”
“Just tell me.” There was a desperation in his voice.
“What is wrong with you today?”
“Nellie, please.”
Cal never said please. How many times had I reminded him to use manners? To be polite? Hell, I’d done it just last week at Jane’s when he’d ordered a water. “Why?”