Finding Her Heart (McCormick's Creek Series Book 2)

by Jen Peters

  He pursed his lips. “When a company is vulnerable, another larger company tries to take them over. And my job is to help make it happen. Sometimes that’s through buying up shares before people realize what’s happening, sometimes it’s through a good purchase price." Mitch ran a hand through his hair. “Right now, there’s a small company in trouble and my client made a pretty hefty offer.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  He shrugged, trying not to notice the way the sun glinted off her hair, or the way one of those locks fell forward across her shoulder. “It can be. It was really emotional for the family in business, especially since my client caused most of the problems, but they finally accepted. And then we started manipulating things as usual, changing what we were offering…”

  “You can’t do that!"

  Mitch snorted. “Oh, believe me, we can. It’s my job to put loopholes all over the place—and I’m good at it—and if their attorney doesn’t see them, then my clients can take advantage of it. It’s legal, and it works. I have more clients clamoring for my services than I ever imagined.”

  When he looked at Ree again, she was leaning as far back in her seat as she could get. Her eyes had turned a dark, murky blue, and she looked at him like he was a snake in someone’s garden.

  When she finally spoke, her words were clipped. “So you take a client who ruined someone’s family business, just so you can go and make it worse? Why are you down here in a quiet town filled with family businesses, instead of back in Portland ruining someone else’s life?" She pushed her chair back, swept her papers up, and stalked into the inn.

  Mitch groaned. What had he been thinking? He usually tried to avoid specifics of what he did for a living, especially with how he was feeling about it now. And when it came bitterly out of his mouth—a direct result of how this week’s machinations had affected him—it was cold and heartless and he hadn’t admitted how he really felt about it.

  It was obvious how Ree felt, but he shouldn’t be surprised. Unless they worked in the corporate world, most people would be rather uncomfortable with his tactics. Which is why he didn’t mention them much.

  Mitch shook his head. Why should that matter? They had been growing close, but he needed to remind himself she was an employee. He shouldn’t be noticing the sunshine in her hair, or the softness of her lips, or the way her smile lit her eyes when she made plans for the inn. He shouldn’t care that she was kind and generous, quick with a soft word, imaginative in her job. Those should only matter in how good of a manager she was, right? In how they would affect the guests at the inn.

  Even if his heart said otherwise.

  What he needed to do was get his head screwed on straight. He needed to review Ree’s plans for the dinners. He needed to find a chef. And he needed to figure out what in the world he was going to do for a career if he gave up M&A.

  He stood, setting the chair back against the wall. It obviously wasn’t a good time to give the coffee basket to Ree, not until he figured out what to say. But he’d had too much time thinking about his situation already. He wanted to feel grounded in McCormick’s Creek today, and he could at least contact a few more leads regarding a chef. A cup of coffee would clear his head, too. He didn’t think Mrs. Cooper would mind if he used one of her restaurant tables as a temporary office.

  Two hours, two coffee pots and a multitude of texts and emails later, he had a possibility. Chef Paul LaSalle might be available. He hadn’t quite made the top tier of west coast chefs but had decent reviews. Despite Mitch’s questioning skills, he hadn’t been able to find out just why the chef was available, or why he was willing to work part time, but he would. He left a message on the chef’s voicemail. Now it was wait and see time.

  In the midst of all the contacts, he watched the restaurant. Mrs. Cooper had been cooking since dawn, he could tell. And yet no new cook came on shift to replace her.

  The waitress came by with another coffee refill. “It’s Robin, right?” he asked. “This is a family-run place, isn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Has been since I was a little girl.”

  “Of course, Ree said it was your mother’s restaurant.”

  “She’s the cook.”

  He poured cream into his coffee, just enough to take the black edge off it. “She does the morning shift?”

  Robin shrugged. “She does it all. There’ve been some…issues.”

  He raised his eyebrows again, but she concentrated on her coffee pot. “I’ve got to see to my other tables.”

  She left, and Mitch glanced around. It was late afternoon, almost dinner time, but only one other person sat in the restaurant.

  The place reminded him of the company they were taking over right now. Family origins, small, having problems. He wouldn’t like to see it go under. He swirled his coffee and wondered what would it be like to help a business instead of creating heartache. The Cooper family could use some help with the restaurant, he was sure.

  If they could get a second cook, update the decor, maybe get a marketing consultant…

  Something shifted in his mind and thoughts began to click. The restaurant, the bowling alley, the bookkeeping service down the street…

  The whole town—his grandfather’s town—was filled with small businesses. With families who were struggling to stay afloat in a town without many jobs.

  What if there were something he could do to help? Something the firm could do to help?

  He put his puzzlement over Ree out of his mind. He had to get back to Portland and talk to his grandfather.

  Chapter 12

  Ree slammed through her front door and into the kitchen. She hadn’t spent an overabundance of time fantasizing about Mitchell Blake and his charm and good looks. Not at all. Or at least, not too much. But to find out he was the slimy kind of attorney, just like the guy who ruined her father? The dirtbag who, in the long run, ruined her parent’s marriage and left her mother a single parent raising a teenage daughter?

  Mister Blake—she wouldn’t call him Mitch again—had deceived them all. He’d been too helpful with the inn, too accommodating in hiring her, too nice to the people around for her to see him for what he really was. Too everything, despite his warm, strong hand and how easy it was to talk to him.

  How could he be so different from what she had thought? Could her judgement really be so far off?

  Well, yes. Luc was the obvious example of being overwhelmed by someone’s charisma. And she’d been taken in by a few supposed BFFs in the past, too, not the least of which was Raine, the “friend” who had hurt Robin so badly.

  But this…she hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything after she stormed away from Mr. Mitchell Blake. All she had to show for her afternoon’s work were angry slashes on paper and the knowledge that there were exactly 284 roses in the hammered tin ceiling of the inn’s dining room.

  Coming home hadn’t done anything for her mood, although she was grateful she’d planned pasta for dinner instead of a salad—she’d probably stab something with the knife before she got any vegetables cut.

  She yanked the spaghetti pot from a low cabinet, pushed the faucet on high to fill it. The rushing water matched the turmoil inside her. She had finally gotten a job she wanted, a job she was excited about, and now she couldn’t stomach the thought of working for her new boss.

  What kind of man could do such a thing and enjoy it? It was one thing for a company to sell out for a decent price, and she knew lawyers were necessary to make that happen. But to specifically write contracts so the unsuspecting owners could get eaten up?

  Ree stared at the pot, willing it to boil, needing to see something else churn violently. She closed her eyes and pictured ocean water churning, sharks tearing a human apart.

  But as she inhaled the rising steam, she remembered that sharks tore their own kind apart, too. She supposed Survival of the Fittest applied in the legal world as well as nature. What would it be like to live in that world?

  Her thoughts swirled wi
th the steam. You’d have to be pretty aggressive to be successful in a world like that. The TV shows she watched were overly dramatic, of course, but there had to be some basis in reality. The cutthroat tactics, jockeying for position, the race for billable hours all had to be there to begin with or they wouldn’t end up in shows, would they?

  What kind of real person thrived in a place like that? How did a man like Mitch do it?

  The water finally reached a rolling boil, but Ree’s thoughts had calmed some. She poured the penne in, added salt, and stared as the steam began to rise again.

  She pictured Mitchell Blake and realized his eyes weren’t cruel, not like she’d imagined someone like him would be. And he spoke of his grandfather fondly—wouldn’t a shark-type person be ready to take over and shove his grandfather out?

  Not necessarily. Even mafia hit-men loved their families.

  She sighed and took a deep breath of warm, moist air. What did she really know about him, anyway? She had never finished her internet search, but his own admission had been harsher than anything the internet would explain. So besides a story about not hitting free-throws in high school, what about his personal side?

  She had never seen his eyes piercing and hard, although they changed from focused to relaxed to determined in different situations. But Justin and Cat and Harriet all liked working for him. He was willing to give the inn time to become profitable, at Mr. McCormick’s request, of course. And he had petted Pumpkin that first day.

  But he was her boss, not a potential boyfriend, despite the wonderful walks they’d had. Her boss. And right now, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to work for him. She broke off her thoughts and stirred the penne.

  Foolish, she scolded herself. She had no business being interested in him, none at all. Nobody with any sense of honor and doing what was right would choose such a profession. And after Luc, after her father, honor was important to her.

  But still, he had petted her cat.

  Perhaps … perhaps she didn’t have to make a judgement now. Perhaps she should wait, should see what he was really like. See if he was all shark or if he really did have a softer side that petted cats.

  No, tigers don’t change their stripes, and all that. Luc hadn’t been willing to change his morals, and a slimy lawyer was still a slimy lawyer. A man who could choose that line of work wasn’t a man she wanted to be around.

  Mitch had vanished by the next day, gone back to Portland to work over another small company, Ree assumed. She forced herself to concentrate on inn business through the morning, then headed for the flower shop. All she found was a note on the front door: In the greenhouse. Call 326-7723 and I’ll be here in 5 minutes.

  Ree fumed as she drove the short distance home and stalked to the greenhouse. “Mom! You’re not even at the store!”

  Her mother looked a little sheepish. “I know, Ree, but it was so quiet, and I didn’t have anything to work on. And I was itching to get out here and get my hands dirty.”

  Ree’s frustration spilled over. “Come on, Mom. You just escape out here when you don’t want to do the grunt work. Do you really think a sign on the door is going to keep your customers? Did you even get the new ad done?”

  Mrs. Swanson glared at her. “Yes, Ree, I did. Just because I can’t work the clippers or wire flowers doesn’t mean I shirk my responsibilities. People know I can get back to the shop in a jiffy, and they’ll wait. They have before. The garbage is out, the workroom is clean and the ad is off to the newspaper. Anything else you’d like to ask about my shop?”

  It was Ree’s turn to look abashed. “Only what you want me to work on tonight,” she said quietly.

  Her mother’s face softened. “Actually, honey, nothing. No funerals, no weddings, no birthday flowers. And I know you’ve been working hard at the mansion. So take the night off and do something fun.”

  Fun? What was there for fun around here? Especially with a certain dark-haired gentleman on her Do Not Think About list? All she really wanted to do was collapse in a chair and brood.

  She trudged back to the house for a good pity party, but then grabbed her keys and headed to Robin Cooper’s instead. She rang the doorbell, listened to the cacophony of dogs ready to welcome her, and sighed. Nothing changed around Robin’s house, but right now that felt good.

  “Ree!” Robin cried as she flung open the door. She enveloped her friend in a long hug. “I’ve been working. I found three more magazines to advertise in, but I haven’t gotten all the online stuff finished yet.”

  Ree just shrugged. She wasn’t sure she even cared.

  Robin led the way to the kitchen where they made custom soda combos, then out to the back porch. When they were settled in deck chairs with a multitude of dogs lounging around them, Ree leaned back and sighed. “It feels so good just to sit and not think.”

  “Tough stuff?”

  “You have no idea.”

  Robin eyed her over her glass. “So what about the delectable Mitch?”

  Ree’s gut tensed as she took another slurp from her straw. “Delectable? Mr. Mitchell Blake?"

  “The one and only. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how hunky he is?”

  Ree tightened the grip on her glass. “His custom-made suits only fit so well because they’re sharkskin!”

  “Wow,” Robin said. “That doesn’t sound like the Ree I know and love.”

  Ree sighed. “I’m just tired of men pretending they’re one thing when they’re really the exact opposite.”

  “And Mitch is the opposite of generous and helpful? Not to mention Adonis?”

  Ree stared into her now empty glass, then across the backyard to where the dogs tussled. “He’s a nasty shark, the same kind of slimy killer attorney that took my dad’s business." She didn’t care if her metaphors didn’t match up.

  Robin was silent for a few minutes. “I’m so sorry, Ree. That makes it hard to work for him, doesn’t it?”

  Hard to work for him, and hard to fight the attraction she somehow still felt. Ree kept her eyes on the dogs and tried to blink back tears.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Hide my feelings behind a professional face, do a great job managing the inn, and get out of here as soon as I can,” Ree growled.

  Chapter 13

  By the time Mitch got through the Portland traffic Sunday night, all thoughts of Ree and all the excitement of helping McCormick’s Creek businesses had been replaced with the apprehension of telling his grandfather he hated his career. How could he explain what was in his mind? And, although he’d never have admitted it before, in his heart.

  Granddad had cheered and pushed Mitch to succeed in law—to be skilled and meticulous and ruthless. How would he react when Mitch said he hated it? He didn’t think it would trigger another stroke or he wouldn’t even bring it up. But disappointment? Mitch had to steel himself against what he’d see in Granddad’s eyes.

  But you didn’t live to the ripe old age of 88 without gaining some wisdom, and Mitch had always been able to confide in his grandfather. Granddad had helped him put some rough teasing into perspective in high school. He had listened and counseled when Mitch toyed with dropping law school and heading for investments. This situation shouldn’t be any different, but he hoped he wasn’t putting their whole relationship on the line.

  He slept restlessly and woke too early for the cloudy Monday ahead. A fast run through Garfield Park and the consultation with Mr. Bidwell left him eager to see his grandfather, despite his anxiety.

  He let himself in to the penthouse apartment and hesitated outside his grandfather’s bedroom door. Shoulders back, deep breath. He rapped on the door, two staccato notes answered immediately by Marcus, Granddad’s aide.

  “He wondered how long you would stand there,” Marcus said, his deep voice rumbling.

  Mitch chuckled. Trust his grandfather to still know everything that was going on.

  Granddad lifted a shaky hand, beckoning him to the chess table by his bed. They chatt
ed while they played, inconsequential things until the old man began quizzing him about the latest client.

  Mitch gave the details. His grandfather waited.

  Mitch shook his head and sighed. “I do it, Granddad. I’m really good at it, and the clients are pleased. But…”

  He met his grandfather’s piercing eyes, saw the old man’s tightened lips.

  “Something more you want to say, son?”

  Mitch looked down and shook his head. And then muddled words came out anyway. “I can’t keep on. I see the devastation to the families, and it’s sucking the soul out of me.”

  Silence.

  “I know it’s just the way of things,” Mitch said, “and I should be professional—”

  “You should. And you should finish what you start.”

  Mitch closed his eyes. How else could he explain how much this was affecting him? He had to pull the words from somewhere.

  “I know that’s what you always taught me. It’s how you’ve lived your life. However…” His voice trailed off. The words weren’t there.

  “However,” Granddad picked up after a moment, “there are times in a case when we find new evidence, or the evidence we have causes us to take a new direction.”

  Mitch jerked his head up.

  “You were always so driven to succeed, wanted to be on the top. You wanted to make everything fit your way, to design the outcome and see it happen. Mergers and Acquisitions was a good fit, and you thrived. Not to mention the benefit to the firm.

  “But there was something generous in you when you were little. You used to stop and pick up a younger child who had fallen. You helped a poorer kid set up his own business fixing bikes, do you remember?”

  “Ricky.” Mitch hadn’t thought of him in many years.

  “I’ve pushed you, I know, and you’ve succeeded well. But I suppose, as a grandfather, I’m also glad to see this side of you come back.”

  It took a moment for Mitch to find his voice. “So you don’t think I’m crazy?”