Number's Up Page 3
“Whoa. I like my bras. Do you know how much I have to pay for good bras that hold up for riding? Judges don’t like to see jiggling. Anywhere. It takes money to strap these babies down.” Lark was a dressage trainer, and she was frequently gone at horse shows where she… did something on horses. She mentioned pretty horse dancing a lot, so there was maybe music, too. I knew there were levels. She mentioned those a lot, as well.
“You’re a size B at the most. You don’t know what true jiggle is.”
“And yet I still spend a fortune. Men have it so much easier.”
“Pink tax.” It was expensive to be a woman. Way more expensive than being a man.
“No kidding. Do you know how much jockstraps are? Not eighty bucks, I’ll tell you that.”
“So, no bra burning. Still, maybe you might… push him into thinking about Barrow Bay. Just a little.” I looked through the empty grocery bag to hide my face.
“Not you, too. Who got to you?”
Oops. I had told Alice I was bad at this.
“Alice. She was complaining about how much she wants Benny to retire. There were tears, Lark. Tears. And I like Brecken. He would be perfect.” Benny had been the Chief here in Barrow Bay for decades. Alice, his purple-haired impish wife, had big plans for what they were going to do when he retired. Which would be as soon as he found a replacement. The only thing standing in their way was Lark’s admittedly logical fear of commitment and Brecken's wish to not leave his sister. All great points, but here, in Barrow Bay, he had been chosen, and they would do anything to make it so.
“I’m not pushing. Or luring. Or convincing. Or bribing. None of it. We are taking it slow and I’m happy.” Lark crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed and staring into the distance. Now that I thought about it, she might have been glaring at her Gran’s Tea House.
“I know. You glow every time you get a message. It’s slightly annoying.” She looked over at me and there it was: pity. The same expression I saw on all my city friends faces, too. It wasn’t like I avoided love. I wanted marriage and children and the whole picture. I just liked financial security, too. Or, if I was to be completely honest, more. If it was a toss-up between love or financial security, I knew which one would win.
Although, I was starting to think maybe I had prioritized the wrong one. My security hadn’t ended up being as secure as I’d expected.
“How’s online dating going?” she asked, giving me a sympathetic look.
“Do you see any dates?” I replied.
“Well, since bringing your best friend on dates is awkward, I didn’t really think that was an indicator.”
“I’ve been working.” Not knowing if I would have a business anymore had been a big motivator. I had a tidy nest egg. My house was paid off. I had enough money to survive my current business going under, even as I fought tooth and nail to keep it going. Eventually, people would trust me again. It was not like I was involved in the crime. Just the oblivious partner who didn’t catch on to the corruption until it was too late. Because that was a great reason to convince people to let me help them with their business.
But… what if no one did? What if people couldn’t get over my partner being a crook, and that carried over to me by association? What if I ran out of money? What if I got sick?
My chest hurt. I needed more money in my savings. Just in case.
“What about after working?” Lark’s voice interrupted my anxiety cycle.
I took a longer sip of wine as I turned my attention back to her. And my lack of dating life. I was failing personally and professionally. I was heading into pathetic.
“I sleep. Then work some more.” Good thing, too. Since the feds showed up again today. I could already guess I was going to get more phone calls tomorrow. Bye-bye to that last thirty percent.
“You need to stop. Breathe. Get food.” She gestured to my cabinets. Which were bare. Again. “Maybe pick up a cool habit like drinking coffee.”
I laughed. Lark and her addiction. “Your coffee obsession is disturbing.”
“Someone not liking coffee is disturbing.”
My phone pinged that I was getting a text. Shaking my head at her silliness, I took it out of my pocket and looked. It was Henry. That wasn’t too surprising, considering the FBI agent at my door. I hadn’t talked with him much since the investigation started. I… couldn’t. I was too hurt that he had done this, letting me down in such a manner. He knew I needed financial security, that it was everything to me. How could he have done this to our company?
Before the scandal, Henry lived in the city, and until this year, had taken most of the face-to-face meetings. We previously had quite a clientele of businesses that didn’t want to pay for a full time CPA, but still wanted the professional knowledge, even if the price tag was hefty. Hiring us, and paying only when needed was still cheaper than hiring someone with our level of knowledge. We catered to them by providing the service at a reduced cost based on need. It had been a thriving business, and we were thinking about taking on two new CPAs. Until the investigation, that is.
Henry: We need to talk. I want to explain everything. Can you meet me at the resort tomorrow? 9 am?
I was confused. I should’ve expected him to want to talk, but for him to come to Barrow Bay? Henry never left the city. I was pretty sure he considered Sausalito an exotic locale. He had never met me here, not in the six years I worked with him. He had, after my mother died, tried to convince me to move back to the city, but I’d come to love it here.
Barrow Bay was my comfort zone. Consisting of Main Street, the resort, and about 1,000 stubborn people who made it work, give or take a few, it was tight-knit enough that everyone knew everyone, but the resort kept it in touch with culture. Well, the culture that appealed to the older generations, at least.
My mother had lived here when fishing was something people could make money doing without a major rig. Then she left to marry my dad. Big mistake. Twenty-five years later, she returned to Barrow Bay broke and broken. My father had been a con artist hiding behind the title of a salesperson. Always looking for a quick buck and an even quicker return. Every dollar he earned went back out into some new investment that was going to make us all rich. The funny thing was, eventually it paid off. He got rich. Then he got rid of us. My mother was good enough for the small time, but he needed a trophy wife to show around his new club. We were disposable. So, she came back to her home town, while I graduated from high school a year early and went to college.
Six years later, I had a B.S. in accounting, an MBA, and an ailing mother. That was when Henry stepped in. I had worked with him when he mentored some of our classes. He’d been impressed and when he heard of my situation, he had a solution. I went home with a good job, one that could pay the medical bills and give my mother the help she needed. But even the best medical care couldn’t save someone who didn’t want to be saved.
Me: I have a meeting. Can we do 10 am?
I waited for his answer. It took longer than usual, but maybe he was doing something at the same time.
Henry: I can make that work. 10 am.
Me: Great. Where do you want to meet?
Henry: Room 304
Huh. Interesting.
Me: Ok. See you then.
“Lark? Have you ever stayed at the hotel before?”
“Yeah, before I moved here. Blake hated staying with Gran.” Lark made the same face she always did when she mentioned her ex-husband. A pained expression that was equal parts disgust and, well, more disgust.
“Aren’t the lower end numbers suites?” I frowned at the phone. “Like the first five rooms in the resort on each floor?”
“I think so. We never stayed in them, but Mom and Dad did a few times. Why?” She walked closer to me so she could peek over my shoulder.
“Henry is in town. Staying at the hotel in room 304.”
“Henry? As in your business partner? I thought he refused to travel out here.”
“So did I.”
&nb
sp; “Wonder what he wants. Did it have anything to do with the Wolverine?” Lark asked, looking me in the eye so I couldn’t lie.
“I’m going to guess so. Coincidences don’t happen like that very often.” I sighed. “Also, Wolverine? Is that what we are going with?”
“Agent Ass Hat and Agent Unimportant got voted too long. Nic’s too personal, and I refuse to call him Satan without hooves and horns to go with it. Wolverine it is.”
Fabulous. She had just nicknamed my secret crush with my favorite superhero’s name. This had better not be a sign.
Chapter 3
The next morning, I was surprised to not find more FBI agents at my door. I knew that things took a while, but TV had me conditioned to expect instantaneous results. Turn in the crime tip, next day the SEC or FBI would be swarming all over trying to find evidence. Even now that I knew it didn’t work that way, I still expected to wake up to a warrant and a team of forensic accountants. Honestly, I was kind of excited to meet them this time. Forensic accounting sounded interesting, and I didn’t get to talk to them last time because I’d been too busy yelling at Nic. I might have thrown a vase. And a book, one of the self-help books he pointed out the first day. Evidently, I had some trouble keeping my cool around him.
Or I was taking my anger and guilt out on him. No, no, I was going with it being his fault. It wasn’t the most mature decision, but I couldn’t stop my emotions from snapping, and it was easier to blame him for the reaction than face reality.
It turned out that I was big on deflecting blame when it came to my life imploding.
I contacted my lawyer before my nine am meeting to go over what to do and say and was now more prepared. After we went over everything, I also told him to start the paperwork to close the business. Just in case I couldn’t turn it around. That was the hardest part of the call. I may have cried. Twice.
At nine-thirty, as soon as my call was over, I got ready to leave, slipping on my favorite shoes. They were simple black pumps with a red sole, but they were my first pair of Louboutins. The first truly expensive, frivolous thing I had bought for myself after my mother died and I paid off all her debts. I could do anything in these shoes. A quick touch-up on my makeup and I was ready to go, my blonde hair swept back into a neat ponytail, held together by hairspray, and my blue eyes accented by mascara. I was a professional. I was strong. I was… going to be late if I didn’t leave now.
I pulled out in my sedan, one that I got extra cheap because evidently everyone hated blue that year, and headed for the short drive to the resort. I lived two blocks back from the south side of our downtown in a newer neighborhood, but it still didn’t take me long to get to Main Street and turn north. Main Street was the center of our town, the place where most of the stores and businesses sold their wares. On the west side was a row of restaurants and bars that catered to tourists. In the middle used to be Tops, or Topped Off Coffee Pot, but it had recently closed. The town had been trying to find someone to take over the lease, hopefully staying the same as the coffee shop had been a big tourist attraction, but there hadn’t been anyone interested yet. At least, there hadn’t been anyone that the town approved of.
On the east side of the street were all the shops that didn’t need an ocean view to sell their wares. Grocery, liquor store, antiques. If tourists would buy it, these stores would sell it. People who lived an hour away from any source of large industry had to be resourceful. And willing to do whatever it took to make a dollar. I would know. I did the taxes for a few of the stores in my free time.
Passing the shops, I continued north until the road changed from cheap asphalt to expensive pavement, a sign that travelers had entered a different world. As always, I held my breath as the resort came into view. The resort was a four-story palace, complete with large twisting staircases and white sand pillars. I loved it. Everyone loved it. Hell, even Lark, with her hatred of anything built after the 1950s, loved it. I had always wanted to stay there, even for one night, but never justified the expense.
I pulled into a parking spot and turned off my car, breathing through my mouth to try to relieve the tightness in my chest. My anxiety was like a clamp on my heart, but I pushed it down. I didn’t have the option of letting it win. I had to make money. To support myself. To get out of this car and be the powerful business partner I pretended to be. Not the scared, anxiety-ridden, stress ball that I really was. In a lot of things my anxiety would win. Leaving town. Dating. I would back down, run away, escape. But not business. Financial security was everything.
One last breath and I got out.
And stopped dead in my tracks.
“Wolverine?” Shit. I didn’t mean to call him that. He loved it, though. His surprise turned into a huge smirk, and he shifted his body into an arrogant car lean. The stupid romantic in me appreciated the aesthetic of it. He was perfectly framed in the light, and somehow his black suit didn’t blend in against the black SUV that I hoped was his. Wait, he was driving an SUV?
“Are you serious? You actually drive an SUV?” That made him stand up and lose his grin. In fact, his face took on a slightly hurt expression as he looked over his ride.
Oops.
“What? It’s a great car. I can get anywhere in this. Even in snow.”
“Well, I’m so glad that you are so prepared. Too bad we’re on the coast of California, though. I don’t know if it has ever snowed in Barrow Bay. But good for you to be prepared.” Hmm, I was a little defensive today. I should rethink that. Being nice to the federal agents investigating your company was a much better idea. Plus, I was kind of impressed he liked to be ready for anything. Even snow that was unlikely. I did, too. Maybe I could turn over a new leaf in relation to dealing with Nic. Maybe even stop calling him Satan. It could happen.
His glare lingered for a second before his cocky grin returned. He had a zinger.
I braced myself.
“I like to always be prepared.” He waggled his dark brows and fake leered.
Double entendres and an FBI badge. How talented. Either way, I was unmoved. Okay, that was a lie, but I was pretending to be. Thinking about kissing the FBI agent who was here to investigate my company would be bad. Again.
“You have been skating off your good looks for too long, haven't you?” So much for being nice. Who was I kidding? I enjoyed fighting him too much to be nice. His unpolished reactions were so much better than his flirting. More real.
“What?” His mouth dropped open as I walked closer.
“You. You have been skating by, using your good looks and—” I tapped my chin as I pretended to think. “—charm to get by. It’s made your comebacks rusty. You should have more people in your life that challenge you.” I stopped and, like I’d seen Dorothy, the owner of the resort, do when she was angry, I looked him up and down. “Then you might not have to depend on whoring yourself out for information.”
Hah. That was a good one. And I was super glad for Lark’s complaints last night. I would have never come up with the insult if I hadn’t been listening to her.
His mouth worked as he tried to process me calling him an information-whore. I felt kind of bad. He hadn’t actually been mean or even that rude this time. Just cocky. Manipulative. Arrogant. My ex-boyfriend had been like that. Confident and the center of his world. I didn’t need that again. Ever.
I sighed. What a mess.
“Well, I have a meeting, so I’m going to have to leave now. Have a nice day.” I rushed past him, careful not to touch him in any way. Touching would be bad. He was hot, and I was not prepared for hormone overload. I was not good at telling myself no. I always ate dessert, too. That was how my butt got to be this size. And he was a pumpkin pie, wrapped in chocolate cake, covered in fudge. Probably tasted good going down but would make me sick after.
“Where are you going? Who are you meeting?” Nicholas recovered from his shock to trail after me.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be? People to torment? Warrants to serve? Lives to ruin?”
He had a point. I might’ve overplayed that last one.
“Have you?” I asked, unable to stop myself from being curious.
“Saved a life?” He smirked, looking over to see how interested I was in his life-saving actions.
Sigh. That smirk was getting old. And I was a little too interested.
“Never mind. I don’t want to know. I can see your ego getting bigger from here.”
“My ego is a healthy reaction to talent.” He settled back into stride, scanning the hotel as we approached.
“I get the car now. You need room for your ego to ride shotgun.”
“You seem very interested in my car.”
“SUV,” I corrected. Man. The class know-it-all tone really came out in that one. I had outgrown the pigtails, but not the need to be the most correct.
“You called it a car.”
“It’s an SUV. You should have corrected me, not echoed the wrong terminology.” Oh god. I was getting anal. I was so awkward. Also, I couldn’t believe I thought the word ‘anal’ while around him. Bad thoughts. Bad. Would he understand if I asked him not to talk while I got my thoughts back from the gutter? “Anyway. I’m late. Have a nice day.” Escape, stage left. Or in this case, stage right since that was where the elevators were.
“Maybe I’ll walk you in.” He kept pace with me, shooting me another grin.
“Do I have another option?”
“Not really.”
Fabulous. I turned and walked away, trying to ignore the shadow behind me. I could do it. I could just pretend he’s not there. It was all good.
“So, do your customers usually come to see you? I would have thought you would travel to them. Shouldn’t that be part of the service?”
“It is,” I snapped. Shit. Ignoring him again.
“So then, who are we going to meet?”
“No one.” Why did my mouth keep opening?