Second Chances (Nugget Romance 3) (24 page)

“First, I want to say thanks for helping Harlee the way you did. She told me you were a rock.”

“I’m a cop, Darla. That’s what I do.” But Darla noticed that he thrust his chest out at the praise.

On someone else, Darla might’ve thought his preening was comical, but she loved him, pure and simple, and was pleased that the townsfolk saw him as a man to depend on. But could she depend on him? That was the million-dollar question.

“Well, I know that Harlee was appreciative of all that you did.”

“She feeling better?” Wyatt wanted to know.

“She is. Her brother’s here—drove up from the Bay Area this morning.”

Darla hung the “Closed” sign on the door, rolled down the blinds, and sat in her father’s old barber chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Wyatt grabbed one of the plastic waiting chairs, turned it backward and straddled it. “We gonna talk about this now?”

“I think it’s time, don’t you?” She swallowed hard and tried to organize her thoughts. She’d had nearly a decade to formulate a lot of angry rebukes, but all she could seem to summon was, “Why? Why did you leave me like you did?”

Wyatt let out an audible breath and lifted his chin until his eyes were level with hers. “Because I was scared witless, Darla. We’d lost our baby, you were falling apart, and I didn’t have the first clue how to make it better. I was so freaked out that I did the chicken-shit thing and ran. Then I couldn’t face that I’d run, so I never contacted you.

“But I kept tabs on you,” he continued. “I’d write letters home and ask about you. My mother wasn’t proud of what I’d done and she made sure to let me know it, sending me regular updates on just how fine you were getting along without me. By the time I came back, you’d enrolled in beauty school over where your mother lives, and Owen let me know that you had no shortage of men after you.”

Darla had to laugh at that one. Sure, she’d dated a few men, but it wasn’t like they’d been lining up. Not everyone went in for her colorful hair accessories and lively style. Only confident men, in for the long haul.

“You made me think that you didn’t really love me. That you’d only said you did because you wanted to do the right thing.” She met his eyes, ready to get this out on the table for once and for all. “Did you really love me, Wyatt? I deserve the truth.”

“I think I did.” He turned his gaze from her. “But to be fair, Darla, I was eighteen years old. What the hell did I know about love? Obviously not enough to stick by you.”

She’d been right. He’d bailed because he didn’t love her. Still, to hear him all but admit it, felt like a pickax through her heart. For days after she’d gotten his Dear John letter she’d waited for him to call and tell her that he’d made a horrible mistake. It had taken her nearly a year to stop jumping every time the phone rang.

“What I know now is that I’d stick, Darla. I don’t want to go another nine years—hell, I don’t want to go a day—without having you in my life.”

Pretty words. “What am I supposed to do with that, Wyatt? How am I supposed to trust you?”

“By giving me a chance to prove myself.”

And put her heart on the line only to have it bludgeoned if Wyatt decided this sticking business was too difficult? She’d already taken a gamble by starting a salon in a town where the residents only wanted a barber. How much more could she risk?

“We could go slow, one day at a time,” Wyatt said, clearly seeing the ambivalence in her face. “A lunch here and a dinner there. Bowling. A ride to the coast. We could get to know each other again.”

“I already know you.” Her tone was terser than she’d meant it to be.

“No, you don’t, Darla. I’m a man now, not a boy. And I want to court you.”

Who said “court” anymore? Maybe Darla’s dad. Certainly not a twenty-seven-year-old, living in the twenty-first century. But Darla kind of liked the old-fashioned term. To her it conjured images of ice-skating parties, lemonades on the front porch, and stolen kisses under the oak tree.

“How do I know you won’t cut out the first time anything goes wrong?” She got to her feet and peered through the slats in the blinds for the sake of having something to do. The way Wyatt looked at her, like she held the key to their future, made her nervous.

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You’ll just have to give me a chance and find out.”

She glanced over her shoulder and speared him with a look. “Who says you can touch me?”

He immediately took his hands away, but grinned like a fool. “Sorry.”

“I thought you were courting me.” She put air quotes around “courting.”

“We could start right now.” He looked so hopeful that a little shiver of happiness went up Darla’s spine. “I’ll take you over to the Ponderosa for a steak.”

“I don’t eat steak.” She said it just to be contrary.

“Then a salad, or whatever you want.”

“I need to be home by seven,” she said.

“Okay.” Wyatt looked at his watch. “No problem, but why?”

She fluffed her curls in the mirror. Today she’d gone cinnamon with honey highlights. “I have to wash my hair.” With that she grabbed her purse, put on her coat, locked the barbershop door, and let Wyatt take her to dinner.

“S
o you’re getting back with him?” Harlee twirled one of her newly curled locks around her finger.

“Stop doing that,” Darla said as she wrapped another strand of Harlee’s hair in her hot iron. “You’re taking out all the curl.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Harlee watched her friend in the mirror pretending to be wholly focused on styling Harlee’s hair. The hairdo was just for fun, since Harlee didn’t have anywhere to go. A week after the accident and she could still barely bend over to tie her shoes. At least she had her Pathfinder back. Griffin had made it as good as new.

“I’m giving him a chance.” Darla put the curling iron down to run for the ringing phone. “That’s all.”

Harlee could hear her making an appointment, and when Darla hung up, her eyes glittered with excitement. “That was Maddy Shepard. She wants me to cut her hair.”

The two women high-fived.

“Oh my God, Darla, it’s happening. I told you it would.”

“And I sold three hundred dollars’ worth of product yesterday.”

“Get out.” Granted, Darla’s shampoos were pricey, but that was still a lot of product to move, especially in a small town like Nugget.

“One of the guests at the inn forgot her toiletry bag and couldn’t lower herself to use hotel shampoos. Maddy, bless her heart, sent her over here. And Ethel over at the Nugget Market needed an emergency remedy for itchy scalp. This dry, cold weather is murder. And Donna has become a regular—for product, anyway.”

“That’s fantastic, Darla.”

“How ’bout you? How’s the job hunt going?” Darla swiveled Harlee’s chair around and handed her a mirror so she could see the half-dozen bouncy curls that now skimmed her upper back.

“Very pretty,” Harlee said, and let out a sigh. “I haven’t been looking too hard.”

“No?” Darla beamed. “Okay, I’m just gonna put it out there. I’ll die if you leave.”

“You won’t die. And without my negative influence, you’ll actually go to yoga instead of ditching to get breakfast at the Bun Boy with me.”

“But DataDate’s taking off, right? And you’ve got Colin. And Griffin needs us to get him through his breakup with Lina. And what about Clay and Emily’s wedding? And Maddy’s baby? You’ll miss it all.”

“Uh, no pressure or anything.” Harlee laughed. The truth was, life would go on in Nugget without her. But leaving this place would hurt. Badly. “I don’t think Colin can give much more than he’s giving, Darla. And if I stayed that would become an issue.”

“Because you’re in love with him?”

“I’m pretty sure I am.” Harlee gave a wan smile. “And I’m also pretty sure that if he knew, it would send him off the ledge.”

“There’s no way he can’t know,” Darla said. “It’s all over your face, Harlee.”

“Colin isn’t like a regular guy, Darla. He’s sort of dense about that kind of stuff.”

And he’s different, Harlee wanted to say. It was as if Colin had survived a trauma that he never completely got over and never talked about. Hence the phobias and the aloofness. But he cared for her. That much she knew.

“You need to talk to him, Harlee. Tell him how you feel. What if you leave and he feels the same way as you do? That’s a missed opportunity, and believe you me, I know about missed opportunities.”

Harlee got to her feet, walked to the window, and gazed out over the square. “My old editor at the
Call
is going to the
Seattle Times
. I’ve been thinking of calling him . . . see if he’ll hire me. Colin knows. He hasn’t asked me not to.”

“Have the conversation anyway, Harlee. Maybe Colin just doesn’t want to hold you back. You ever think of that?”

“Maybe.” Harlee gave a halfhearted shrug. “Now tell me about you and Wyatt.”

Darla plopped into the barber chair. “He wants us to date, go slow, but try to win back the feelings we once had for each other.”

“Can you forgive him, Darla?”

“I don’t know. Do you think I should?” The phone rang. “Hold that thought.”

Darla dashed over to the cash register, picked up, and chatted away while she scribbled in her appointment book. After the call, she told Harlee that it was Grace from the feed store. “She wants a haircut.”

“Okay, that’s two in an hour,” Harlee said. “We’re celebrating with lunch at the Ponderosa. My treat.”

“Whoot!” Darla started to grab her coat and hat, but stopped. “Should I forgive him, Harlee?”

Harlee pulled on her jacket, ready to brave the cold. “That’s something only you can decide, Darla. But I like Wyatt and I’m rooting for you guys.”

When they got to the Ponderosa, Sophie had hostess duties. Lilly lay tucked into her baby carrier next to Mariah, who waved from the bar. Sophie started to take them to their usual corner booth, but Harlee and Darla took a detour to say hi to Lilly.

“Don’t you dare wake her up,” Sophie said. “The little stinker kept us up all night.”

You’d never know it. To Harlee, Sophie looked as fresh as the marketing executive she used to be.

“Colin says the house is almost done,” Harlee whispered, not wanting to stir the baby.

“Hallelujah!” Mariah chimed in. “It’ll be nice to finally live separately from where we work.”

“When she wakes up, let us play with her,” Darla said, staring down at Lilly like she wanted to eat her up.

“I’ll bring her over,” Mariah said, and Sophie got them seated.

“They should put that baby in commercials,” Darla said when Sophie went off to seat the Addisons, who had just walked into the restaurant.

As usual, the couple wore their bear gear. Harlee understood their desire to brand themselves as the owners of the Beary Quaint, but adults decked out in 3-D animal wear was a little creepy. Sandy Addison actually had the gall to stare at Darla’s hair du jour. A purple bob with fringe bangs—a wig, of course.

“Don’t pay any attention to them,” Darla said. “They’re trolls.”

Harlee reached over the table and whispered, “Clay said they’re buying the
Nugget Tribune
.”

“There goes the First Amendment.” Darla pretended to shudder and scanned the menu. “What are you getting?”

Harlee opened hers as well, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know every entrée and appetizer by heart. “I don’t know yet. But let’s go balls out and get something totally decadent, to celebrate.”

“You think we’re jinxing it?”

“Hell no,” Harlee said. “You’re a freaking great stylist, Darla. You should move with me to Seattle and open a salon there. We could be roomies.”

“Yeah, because they don’t have enough hair salons in Seattle.” Darla laughed, then grew serious. “I think I want this thing with me and Wyatt to work.”

Harlee stopped perusing the sandwich selections and met Darla’s eyes. “I think he might be a really good man, Darla. I think when he was eighteen years old he made a terrible decision, but he’s grown up since then.”

“I hope you’re right.” Darla closed her menu. “Because if he turns out to be a loser, I’m gonna be devastated. I’m ordering a lemon drop, by the way.”

“Ooh, that sounds good. I’ll get one too. Let’s run him, Darla.”

“What?”

“Let’s do a background check on Wyatt. He’s a cop, so he’ll come up clean. But we can at least see how much he paid for his house.”

“I don’t know,” Darla said. “It seems like an invasion of his privacy.”

“Yeah, so what’s your point?”

A server came to take their order. When she finished, Harlee said, “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

“Can you find out if he’s been married before?”

“Yes. But if Wyatt had been married, you’d know. The whole freaking town would know. This is Nugget, Darla.”

The server came back with their cocktails and both women took healthy sips.

“This is the kind of town where even huge secrets come out,” Harlee continued. “If Wyatt was a cross-dresser, Donna Thurston would be singing it from the rooftop of the Bun Boy.”

“Then what’s the point of doing it?” Darla took another gulp of her lemon drop.

“Just for fun,” Harlee said. “It’ll keep my investigative skills sharp. And who knows, maybe we’ll find out that he inherited half of Nugget.”

Darla laughed. “That wouldn’t be all that impressive.”

The waitress put down their burger plates and a heaping basket of tempura. From across the dining room, Harlee could see Sandy Addison watching them. The woman really was a troll.

“All right.” Darla speared one of the fried zucchinis with her fork and dipped it in catsup. “Go for it. But don’t tell me if anything really bad turns up about him.” She took a big bite of the burger and with her mouth half full said, “On second thought, tell me everything.”

 

Wyatt Lambert’s background check was cleaner than an operating table. As far as Harlee could tell, he’d never so much as had a ticket. His military record may not have been the stuff of best-selling memoirs, but there had been nothing out of the ordinary during his tour of duty.

He owned a house that he’d paid 220,000 dollars for with a 20 percent down payment. It sat on five acres on the other side of town, about two miles from his parents’ house. He and his neighbor shared a legal easement on the driveway.

Darla would be pleased to note that he’d never been married. She might not be so pleased about the fact that he was a registered Republican. But they could work out the politics later. Bigger obstacles than party affiliation had been overcome.

On paper, Wyatt looked perfect.

Harlee was just about to shut down for the day when an email popped up in her in-box. The subject line said Dearling Bros. She thought it might be a new background-check assignment, clicked on the missive, and read.

Probably a nut job. But Harlee looked up Dearling Bros. just for kicks. Her first search netted pages of information about the private investigation firm and the pair of Texas brothers who owned it. Bix Dearling was no joke. He’d been a Dallas police detective, who’d gone out on his own with the help of his brother, a former Navy SEAL. Together they’d built a private investigations empire, contracting with large law firms as well as doing major consulting work for law enforcement agencies. Why in the world would he be interested in her little one-woman start-up?

May as well hear what he had to say, Harlee thought as she quickly replied to his email. Then she picked up the phone and hit speed dial. “Hey, Connie, it’s Harlee. Is the chief available?”

Connie transferred Harlee to Rhys, who picked up on the third ring. “What’s up?”

“You used to be a Texas cop, right?”

“Houston PD. Why?”

“Do you know Bix Dearling?”

“He’s from Dallas, and no, not personally, only by reputation. What’s going on with Bix?”

“I don’t completely know,” Harlee said. “He sent me an email that he might be interested in doing business—something to do with DataDate. What’s his reputation?”

“Great cop. Entrepreneur extraordinaire. Womanizer. Not necessarily in that order.”

“But he’s on the level?” Harlee asked. In the background she could hear Rhys clicking on his computer.

“He’s definitely on the level. He did some consulting for Houston PD—wowed everyone. You interested in whatever he’s peddling?”

“I don’t know yet.” If it was big money she definitely was interested. “Maybe.”

“Then hear him out. I’ve gotta go, but let me know what happens.”

“Will do,” she said and signed off.

Hmm
, Harlee thought. What an interesting turn of events. It would probably wind up being nothing, but it was fun pondering the possibilities. She started to power off and planned to head over to Colin’s place to start dinner, when Bix pinged her back, wanting to set up a meeting. She sent him her phone number, but he insisted that they talk in person. When she explained that she lived in a rural town, four hours from San Francisco, he asked about airports close to Nugget where he could land his corporate jet.

Harlee had no idea about landing strips. But she knew Clay owned a couple of planes and told Bix she’d find out what airport he used. Surreal. Her fledgling business brought in just enough money to carry Harlee, who lived rent-free. It wasn’t exactly Microsoft. Then again, with the resources of a company like Dearling Bros., it could be quite profitable.

She left a message for Emily, asking about local airports, and hiked up the hill to Colin’s house. Max sprung out of his dog door in greeting, jogging in circles around Harlee as if he hadn’t seen her in months.

“Here, boy,” she called, trying to get him to heel before his exuberance caused her to trip over him. “Where’s Colin, Max?”

The dog cocked his head to one side and let out a whimper.

“Hey.” Colin stood at the entryway, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb, his hair wet from a recent shower. Just the sight of him made her insides slam.

“I’ve got some interesting news,” she said, and climbed the porch stairs.