by Stacy Finz
“My client countered today on the Rosser Ranch. A few days ago, I don’t think old man Rosser would’ve accepted her counter, considering it’s not the full thirty thousand more he wanted. But due to new circumstances, we may have a done deal.” She crossed her fingers.
“Yeah?” He couldn’t help pulling her out of the chair and getting his arms around her. She felt even better than he’d imagined, soft and round in all the right places. “That’s great. We’ve got to celebrate.”
She tugged free of him—he might’ve been crushing her—and her face glowed with a combination of delight and surprise. “Really?”
“Hell yeah. This is a huge deal, right?” What, didn’t she ever celebrate things like this?
“It’s the biggest sale I’ve ever had . . . will probably ever have. But I don’t want to jinx it.”
“Okay.” Aidan understood being superstitious. “Then we’ll just go out to dinner. We’ll do the celebration thing when everyone’s signed on the dotted line.”
“All right.”
This, Aidan could tell, pleased her. He couldn’t say why, but he liked pleasing her. She was no pushover but seemed inordinately appreciative of any overtures of friendship. Last night, at the party, he didn’t think she even realized how charming she’d been. Once people got her talking, she’d been open, friendly, and nonjudgmental. It sounded like her family’s candy business dwarfed Hutch’s, yet she acted like they were in the same league. Sue always compartmentalized people. They were either in her strata or not worth her time.
“Where do you want to go?” Dana asked.
“What about Reno? I haven’t really checked out the place.”
“We can go there. You in the mood for Italian? I know a good place.”
“Absolutely. Do we need a reservation?”
“I’ll make one on the way.” She held up her phone, then looked at the time. “But let’s go now; I’m starved.”
“Okay. Let me change first.” Aidan was in shorts and a T-shirt he’d put on at the fire station. “This place have a dress code?”
She laughed. “You’re in the West now. A nice pair of jeans will get you in just about anywhere.”
He decided on a pressed pair of khakis and an Oxford shirt anyway. If it had been Sue’s outing, she would’ve insisted he wear a tie. Instead, he splashed on a little cologne and called it a day. When he came out of his room Dana looked twice.
“Should I get dressed up too?”
“You are,” he said and pointed to her dress. “That new?”
“Harlee gave it to me, and a whole bunch of other stuff.” She stood up and smoothed out the wrinkles. “Do you think it looks okay? It’s not something I’d ordinarily wear, but she and Darla made such a fuss that I . . . well, what do you think?”
“It looks great.” He particularly liked the tube-top part. If he had to guess, she wasn’t wearing a bra. She might even be going commando under the skirt; he didn’t see any panty lines.
Aidan wrapped his arm around her waist. “Let’s hit the road.”
They made good time to Reno. Dana spent much of the ride making their reservation and returning calls to clients.
“I’ve been so caught up with the Rosser deal that I’ve been neglecting my other folks,” she told him as she directed him to the parking lot of a strip mall.
“This it?” It didn’t look like much, just a storefront with lace curtains in the windows and a worn sign that said “Gaetano’s.”
There were a million trendy restaurants in Chicago, and Sue had insisted they go to every one. None of them looked like this.
“Don’t worry; it may not look like much, but the food’s good,” she said and stepped down from his truck before he could help her out.
True to her word, the place was packed. Even though they’d gotten a reservation, they had to wait for a table. Aidan ordered them drinks at the bar: Prosecco for Dana and a scotch for him. A stool became available and he grabbed it for her, leaning his front against her back as they shared a small swath of bar.
“You smell good,” she said.
“Thanks. So do you.” He sniffed her neck and, in the process, got a quick glimpse of cleavage as she bent closer to the bar to get her drink. He’d been wrong about the bra. She had some kind of lacy band around her breasts.
The hostess came, showed them to their table, and lit the candle. Dana buried her face in the menu and Aidan asked for refills on their drinks.
“Tell me about the fire.” She put her menu down. “I heard you leave early this morning, and Harlee said something about it when I was at her house today.”
“It was at the Rigsby farm. You know the family?”
“Not by name. Was anyone hurt?”
“Nah. The Rigsby kids got a hold of some of the father’s fireworks and were shooting off mortar rockets. The barn caught fire and one of the McCreedy kids—they were involved too—called 9-1-1. They got the goats out in time, but the barn’s a wreck.”
“Did you help fight the fire?”
“It was pretty much knocked down by the time I got turned out. I was there in an investigative capacity because the captain suspected right off the bat that something wasn’t right.”
“The fireworks?”
“Yep.”
The server came with their refills and took their orders. The place was old-school Italian, none of those tiny plates with food Aidan couldn’t describe. He got the veal parm and Dana got the osso buco. He ordered them an antipasto plate and fried calamari to start.
“Was it dangerous going through the fire, looking for clues?” she asked when the waiter left.
“Nope. The dangerous part is putting out the fire. But get this: Rigsby got belligerent when we told him we were confiscating the fireworks.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Like how?”
“Acting like an asshat by throwing his weight around. Eventually he gave in. It wasn’t like he had a choice.”
“Could you arrest him?”
“Technically. But I’m not into that. I just wanted to get the pyrotechnics out of there. That’s all.”
She leaned across the table. “Be careful. People out in the country sometimes get weird about authority figures. They don’t like being told what to do, and a lot of these guys have guns.”
“Yeah, I get that impression.”
He enjoyed talking to her about his work. Sue had been attracted to the idea of his job because a lot of women were hot for firefighters. As far as the details of his day-to-day work, she couldn’t have cared less. It bored her, which Aidan had never been able to understand. How could arson, the act of intentionally setting something on fire, be boring?
“Are the kids in trouble?” Dana asked.
“I gave them a pass because it was an accident. A boneheaded accident, but an accident just the same. McCreedy is punishing his boys by making them clean the firehouse. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the kids are gonna love it.”
“You certainly do.” She laughed. “Are your brothers as passionate about being firefighters as you are?”
“Yep. We’re all crazy in the head.” He smiled at her. “So what are the new circumstances that make you think Rosser will take less money?”
The waiter brought their appetizers. Aidan took a bite of the calamari and it was freaking fantastic. Dana served him a crostino.
“The rumor is that Ray Rosser plans to take a plea bargain, which means he doesn’t need to pay his lawyers for a lengthy trial.” She passed him the antipasto platter and speared a calamari with her fork.
“Where did you hear that?”
“From Darla, who heard it from her dad and told Harlee and me.” She dipped the calamari in the bowl of lemon aioli and popped it in her mouth. “Harlee tried to pin it down for a story in the Nugget Tribune, but no one would talk. You think it’s true?”
“I would have no way of knowing,” he said. “What are they knocking the charge down to, do you know?”
“No. But he�
��s facing first-degree murder if he takes it to trial.”
“Is that why you think he’ll accept your client’s counter?”
“Not exactly,” she said and served him some of the cured meats. “Try these, they’re delicious. His lawyer seemed optimistic, like they just wanted to be done with the negotiations and get the place into escrow. Of course it’s up to Ray. At least I think it’s up to Ray. There are some rumors that he’s already signed the property over to the lawyers . . . that they’re the ones pulling the strings.”
The server returned with their entrees.
“I’m already stuffed,” Dana said.
Not him. He could probably eat both their meals. “Take a stab at it.”
He cut into his veal and took a bite. Dana had been right; the food here was amazing.
She stuck a forkful of her osso buco in his face. “Try this. I’m serious.”
He dutifully complied, and hell yeah, it was good. It made him wonder how many places like this he had missed in Chicago, eating at Sue’s food museums.
“How’d you find this place?” He suspected she’d come here with Griffin, which made the food feel heavy in his stomach.
“It’s been here a long time. When Paul was alive this was my family’s favorite restaurant.”
“Your parents don’t come anymore?”
She gave a mirthless laugh. “No. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I was here. But the quality is still good, right?”
“Absolutely. The food is fantastic.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Is it difficult . . . does it remind you of your brother?”
“In a good way,” she said. “It was our happy place, the place we came to celebrate things.”
He lowered his voice. “Is that why you wanted to come?”
At first she didn’t answer; then she said, “I guess subconsciously, yeah.”
“Thank you for sharing it with me,” he said. “I’ll tell you what: When you close the deal we’ll come back.”
“Can I ask you question?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “How is it possible Sue could’ve ever let someone like you go?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer because his phone rang. His captain. Someone had tried to burn down the sporting goods store.
Chapter 11
The fire was all anyone could talk about the next day. Everywhere Dana went, someone spouted a theory. At the Gas and Go she ran into Owen while filling her tank. The barber, who’d never said so much as boo to her before, walked over to her pump and began spewing all kinds of crazy speculation on how it started.
“It was probably those Rigsby boys, trying to get even for having their fireworks confiscated. That Sean has always been trouble . . . a regular juvenile delinquent.”
Dana didn’t know how burning down the sporting goods store would help them “get even” because the owner, Carl Rudd, had nothing to do with what had happened at the Rigsby farm. But she supposed it was as good a theory as any. At least the blaze had been confined to the back of the store, afterhours. No one had gotten hurt and the damage had been minimal. She figured she’d get the skinny from Aidan when he got home.
She hadn’t seen him since they’d hightailed it out of the restaurant and back to Nugget. He’d gone straight to the fire and had come home sometime in the wee hours of the morning when she’d been fast asleep. This morning she’d left the house to go to the office before he’d awoken.
After getting gas, she headed to the Bun Boy to get a cup of coffee. Donna Thurston, the drive-through’s owner, was absolutely certain Carl had accidentally set the fire himself and didn’t want to ’fess up to save face.
“Everyone knows he’s smoking again and throws his butts behind the store so his wife won’t catch him. The idiot man apparently didn’t get the memo about the drought and this year’s fire danger. What does Aidan think?”
“I haven’t seen him since he went to investigate.”
Dana finally realized why she’d suddenly become so popular with the townsfolk. Aidan. It should’ve bothered her; instead, it gave her a zing of delight because maybe, just maybe, she was starting to belong.
The Bun Boy’s owner leaned out of the take-out window. “What’s going on with the Rosser property? I hear you have a live one.”
Dana laughed. “We’re still in negotiations. You think the rumor about Ray making a plea bargain is true?” She’d never stopped to gossip with the residents. But why not, as long as it was harmless?
“My take on that is even though there’s no bigger SOB on the planet, Ray wants to do right by his family . . . set them up financially. He can’t do that if he pisses away all the proceeds of the ranch on his lawyers, fighting an uphill battle. Let’s face it, the man’s guilty as sin. Gus may have been stealing his cattle, but Ray shot him in cold blood.”
Dana thought it was an interesting notion, one she hadn’t considered only because Ray seemed too selfish to think about anyone else but himself. But Donna had known him her whole life and was probably privy to a different side of him. Dana just wanted him to accept Gia’s counter to his counter. Whatever he decided to do about his case was between him and his lawyers.
“You could be right,” Dana said, putting the lid on her travel mug. “I’d better get to the office.”
“You tell that young man of yours that we’re waiting on him to do a restaurant inspection before we can get our open-flame permit. We’re installing some of those Santa Maria–style barbecues.”
He wasn’t her man, but Dana had to admit she liked the sound of it. “I’ll let my roommate know,” she said, got in her car, and drove to Nugget Realty.
“Hey.” Carol popped her head up from the computer when Dana walked in.
“I wasn’t expecting you back from Santa Cruz until Monday. How was the beach?”
“It was great, but Vance was itchy to get back to work. You hear about the sporting goods store?”
“Aidan and I were having dinner when he got called away. You really think it was arson?” Dana couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to set fire to Carl’s store. Bad things like that just didn’t happen in Nugget.
“I don’t know what to think,” Carol said. “But forget the fire. You were having dinner with Aidan?” She lifted her brows, waiting to hear the whole story.
“It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing . . . two people who live in the same house who didn’t want to cook. We went to an Italian place in Reno I used to go to. Nothing romantic.”
Though Dana wondered. Aidan seemed more than friendly, but she didn’t want to read into things between them and be disappointed that it was all in her head. Besides, she’d caught him a few times looking at Sue’s Facebook page on his laptop. She supposed it was normal to be curious. God knew she looked at Tim’s all the time, even though they were completely over. But she suspected Aidan hadn’t stopped loving Sue. And she wasn’t going to be second place ever again.
“That’s too bad,” Carol said. “He seems like a good catch. Anything new on your client’s counteroffer?”
Dana had been texting Carol in Santa Cruz with details. “Nope, still waiting to hear back from Ray’s lawyer. I promised myself that I would block it out of my head and try to get some work done. The Arnolds are still interested in Sierra Heights but want to see a few homes outside a planned community before making a decision. I wanted to send them listings . . . try to get them to come up this weekend to look. What are you working on?”
“A couple from Walnut Creek is looking to buy a cabin up here. They want something near the river.”
“Don’t forget about that place on Feather Vista. It needs work, but the views are spectacular.”
The phone rang and Carol answered. A minute later, she signaled to Dana that it was for her. “Del.”
Showtime!
“Hello, Mr. Webber. How are you?” Dana wanted to cut to the chase but didn’t want to appear overanxious. People around here got to the heart of the matter in their own sweet
time.
“How you doing, Dana?”
“I’m fine. You have a chance to run the counteroffer by Ray?”
“I have,” he said, and Dana could hear him shuffling papers in the background. “He’s willing to go for it, including leaving the furniture.”
Dana had to keep from gasping. Holy Toledo; she was about to close the biggest deal of her career.
“Ray, however, is adamant that Flynn Barlow maintain grazing rights for his cattle for the next two years. The Rossers and Barlows have been longtime associates in the cattle industry. Ray wants to keep his word to them.”
“But payments for the two-year lease will go to my buyer.” Gia had shown interest in the income because Dana doubted she would use the land to run her own cattle.
“Nope, Rosser wants that money.”
Ray wants to keep his word, Dana’s ass. He wanted to continue profiting off land that no longer belonged to him from behind prison bars. Nice scam. But Dana was Ray’s agent too, so she held her tongue. “I’ll run it by the buyer. If she’s good with it, you think we could get this signed before the weekend?”
“That’s the plan,” Del said. “Between you and me, Ray’s gonna plead guilty tomorrow. As soon as that’s done, they’ll move him to San Quentin to be processed. So let’s get this done before he’s transferred.”
“The word’s already out. Harlee Roberts, the local reporter, found out from one of her sources,” Dana said. “Is it okay if I confirm it for her?”
“Sure. The cat will be out of the bag in twenty-four hours.”
“What’s he pleading guilty to?” Dana asked, curious herself.
“Second-degree murder with a gun enhancement . . . fifteen to life and ten for the gun.”
Whoa, that was a lot of time. “I’ll talk to the buyer and get back to you right away. Thanks, Del.”
“Let’s get it done,” he said.
As soon as she got off the phone with Del, Carol hovered. “Well?”
“Ray went for it. Fifteen thousand more instead of thirty thousand.” Dana explained the caveat about Ray continuing to collect the income from the cattle lease.
“It can’t be that much money,” Carol said.
