Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Zara
After meeting with Javier to go over the week’s schedule and discuss a few staff changes, I found myself knocking on Cormac’s office door.
I had no plan. Despite my long talk with Steven and Zane yesterday, I just really wanted to see him.
His muffled voice called, “Come in.”
I pushed the door open and stuck my head inside. “Hey.”
He masked his surprise well, but I didn’t miss the jerk of his shoulders. “Hey to you.”
I slipped into his office, shutting the door behind me, and leaned against it. “Busy day?”
Sighing, he clicked his mouse a few times. “Always, but especially this time of year. You’re not busy?”
“No, I am. I just finished meeting with Javier. He asked me to help him rework some things on the schedule.” I cupped my hands over my mouth like I was telling him a secret. “And it was difficult to look at him without wondering if he’s a spicy daddy.”
Cormac snorted a laugh. “I had the same problem when I saw him this morning. Please thank Henrik for ruining my working relationship with him.”
I saluted him. “I’m on it. I already put him on the kids’ hike for the week—his nightmare.”
His brow dropped with worry. “Maybe we shouldn’t put him in charge of children…”
“Don’t worry. He’s astonishingly good with them because he’s frightened of them. He practically backflips to keep them entertained and happy so they don’t chew his face off. Besides, a little exposure therapy will do him some good. Maybe.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It sounds like you’re helping Javier out.”
“Yeah…he can’t get out there as much as he’d like. He had knee surgery in the spring, and things aren’t as healed as he expected. I offered to pick up the slack since I’m the most familiar with the ranch and have gotten to know the strengths and weaknesses of all the guides.”
“It’s not too much?”
“No.” His concern sent a little curl of delight through me. “It’s not too much at all. I like that he trusts me, and making spreadsheets has always been my cup of tea.”
“No one has ever said that.”
I pointed to myself. “Besides me. I said it.”
His mouth quirked, and I was so relieved to see it I could have burst. The way we’d parted yesterday had been heavy. Too heavy. I still had hope we could somehow find our way back to…well, not the way we used to be, but something that resembled it, though.
“So, Zara, what brings you by? Just saying hello?”
“I found I couldn’t walk by your office without seeing your face.” I pushed off the door and moved closer, stepping around the chairs in front of his desk. “Can I make you dinner tonight?”
He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to look up at me. “Do you know how to cook?”
I rolled my eyes. “It would be awfully cruel of me to invite you over for dinner and expect you to cook it. Yes, Cormac, I know how to cook. You’ve eaten my mother’s cooking plenty of times. I learned from the best.”
When he didn’t answer right away, I braced myself for rejection. In truth, I probably deserved it. I wouldn’t have blamed him for wanting nothing to do with me.
“Okay.” He rose to his feet and it was now me looking up at him. “You talked me into it.”
All the dread that had gathered in my chest fled in a whoosh of breath. “Oh, good. I had a feeling reminding you how good a cook my mom is would do the trick.”
“That was what did it. I’m in it for the food,” he said wryly.
“I know. The company is for the birds.” Smiling, I backed toward the door. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“We are.” He watched me, humor dancing behind his icy blue eyes. “I’ll tolerate you if I have to.”
“That’s all I ask.”
He offered me a warm grin. “See you tonight, Zara.”
I smiled back, and if it was wobbly, I couldn’t have helped it. “Tonight, Maccie.”
As I passed the reception desk on my way outside, Melanie gave me a look so sharp it could have cut glass, but not even a little side-eye could bring my good mood down.
Cormac showed up right on time, carrying a six-pack of beer. “An offering.”
“Very kind.” I took out two bottles and placed the rest in the fridge. “There was talk of a virgin sacrifice, but I prefer this kind of offering.”
He chuckled as he slipped his utility knife from his pocket, flipped out the bottle opener, and popped our tops off. It was so smooth and effortless, my hands went clammy and I had to swallow a few times.
“It’s a good thing my grandparents keep our fridge well stocked. I don’t know any virgins. We’d have spent all our time hunting instead of eating.”
I laughed, loving that he was playing along. “That really would have been a shame. I’ve gone to all the trouble to make my mom’s pasta primavera—my dad’s favorite meal of hers.”
He leaned his hip against the counter, his beer hanging loosely between his fingers of one hand, the other tucked in his jeans pocket.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. “Or should I stay out of your way?”
“Stay out of my way and look handsome,” I replied, going back to the stove to stir my pasta. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
When I glanced over my shoulder, he was staring at me, a deep crevice between his eyebrows. Had I messed up already? Calling him handsome had been kind of flirty, but he’d done the thing with the bottle opener and scrambled my mind a little. It was his own fault.
“How was your day?” I asked, trying to get things back on track.
“All right.” He straightened and took a long pull of his beer. “A few fires had to be put out. A guest accused housekeeping of stealing their wedding ring.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
“She forgot she’d put the ring on her necklace so it wouldn’t get damaged while she was rock climbing. It was around her neck the whole time.”
“Did she apologize?”
He huffed. “Of course not. We comped a bottle of champagne to smooth things over.”
“And the housekeeper?”
“She was given a paid day off and a gift certificate to the spa.”
That made me smile. “I had a feeling you were a great boss. Too bad you can’t flick the guest on the forehead.”
He smiled back. “I wish I could. A spray bottle would work too. ‘Bad guest. Bad!’ And they’d stop their entitled behavior.”
“Not before batting your favorite mug off a ledge and watching it fall.”
“If only some of these guests were as cute as naughty cats.” He shook his head. “Fortunately, most people are happy to be on vacation and become more and more relaxed during their stay and easier to handle.”
“And you’re good at it.”
He raised a shoulder. “It seems I am. For the most part, I enjoy it.”
I tilted my bottle toward him. “Here’s hoping I feel the same way about my next job.”
“Do you know what that will be?”
“No, not yet. I have feelers out, but I’m not in a big rush. I figure I’ll really dive into applying and interviewing when I go back to Oregon. I don’t really have the time or inclination to think about it right now.”
My phone’s ringtone cut off his reply. Frowning, I checked the screen, not recognizing the number. Most likely, it was a sales call, but I decided to answer just in case.
“Hello?”
“Zara Vasquez?”
“Yes?”
“Zara, my name is Ryan Mercer. I’m a licensed private investigator calling out of Portland. Do you have a moment?”
My spine went rigid. This couldn’t possibly be good.
“A private investigator?” I repeated, forcing a small laugh. Cormac’s gaze on me sharpened. “That sounds…dramatic.”
A soft chuckle met my attempt at levity. “I promise it’s far less exciting than movies would have you believe. You’re not in any trouble, and I don’t own a trench coat. I just have a few questions regarding a former business associate of yours, Jackson Hale.”
The kitchen suddenly felt smaller.
Cormac set his beer down quietly.
“I’m not married to Jackson anymore,” I said carefully. “And no longer have anything to do with his business.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Mercer replied smoothly. “Again, this isn’t about your personal life. My client was an investor in Mr. Hale’s company. He’s attempting to reconcile certain discrepancies in the financial reporting and hoped you might be willing to provide clarification.”
“Discrepancies?” I echoed.
“Accounting ones,” he clarified. “Numbers not quite lining up. As I understand it, you handled internal financial documentation.”
“I prepared internal summaries,” I explained. “I didn’t control or have access to investor funds.”
“And that’s exactly the kind of distinction we’re hoping to understand,” he replied. “My client simply wants to know what happened to his investment. We’re not accusing anyone of anything. I’m gathering information.”
Cormac was watching me, barely blinking.
“I don’t know what I can tell you,” I said, tightness creeping into my voice.
“That’s why I’m calling you,” Mercer responded gently. “I think you can tell me quite a bit. Cooperation tends to make these matters resolve more…efficiently.”
My pulse ticced in my ears.
“Is your client pursuing legal action?”
“My client is exploring his options. At this stage, we’re simply gathering facts. I’d very much prefer to note in my report you were open and forthcoming. It tends to reflect well.”
Reflect well.
It wasn’t a threat.
It wasn’t not a threat either.
“I’m in Wyoming,” I said.
“I’m aware of that.”
That landed harder than anything else. He knew where I was? Had he been looking for me?
“To make things easier for us both, I can fly out to you. That is, if you’d be comfortable meeting in person. I find these conversations are clearer face-to-face. We could have coffee. There’s a shop in your town, Sugar Rush. What would you say to a meeting there?”
This was…not anything I had expected. I’d left Jackson’s company more than six months ago. Why was this coming up now?
“I need to think about it.”
“Of course.” His tone never wavered. “I’ll send you my credentials via email so you can verify them. I want you to feel entirely at ease, Zara. My client’s only interest is the truth.”
When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Thank you for your time. I look forward to speaking with you.”
I lowered the phone slowly, and Cormac stepped closer, reaching around me to turn off the burners on the stove. Then he placed his hands on my shoulders, drawing my attention to him.
“Zara,” he said carefully, “who was that?”