Chapter Nine #2
He stepped inside, and she closed the door and went in search of her black cross-body bag.
Her father emerged from the kitchen and watched Stacy hurry past. “Hello, Connor,” he said.
“How are you, George?”
“I’ve skied so much I can hardly walk, but I’m telling myself it’s good for me.”
Stacy rejoined them. “Okay, I’m ready to go.”
George assumed a stern expression. “Now, son, I have to ask what your intentions are toward my daughter.”
“Dad!” She swatted his shoulder.
George laughed. “Just remember,” he told Connor. “She’s armed and dangerous.”
Connor put his hand at her back once they were out the door and leaned close. “You’re not concealing a weapon in that dress,” he murmured.
A pleasant shiver shimmied down her spine. “That’s what the purse is for,” she answered.
The Trail’s End was busy, as usual, but Connor and Stacy found a table at the back with a view of the rest of the room. “See anyone you recognize?” she asked.
“No. Do you?”
She studied the crowd. “That couple by the pool table.” The man was burly, with short dark hair and full-sleeve tattoos.
The woman had short red hair and wore knee-high, tooled leather cowboy boots.
“Let’s go say hi.” Stacy took Connor’s hand.
The sensation of his warm, calloused fingers sent sharp awareness through her.
She quickly moved away from him. Focus! She was here to work.
They stood as if waiting for a table to open, watching the couple play pool. When the woman looked over at them, Stacy said, “Hi. I think we saw you Friday night. At the meeting about the ski area expansion?”
“It was so dark out there, I could hardly recognize anyone,” the man said.
“I remember those fabulous boots,” Stacy said.
The woman said, “People always remember my boots.” She offered her hand. “I’m Carly.”
“I’m Stacy, and this is Connor.”
“Forest,” the man said.
“Good to meet you,” Connor said.
“How do y’all know Shane?” Stacy asked.
“We don’t,” Forest said. “Not really.”
“We saw a notice about the meeting online,” Carly said. “We wanted to hear more about what people are doing to preserve Blaine Mountain.”
“What did you think?” Connor asked.
“I volunteered to work with a woman who is gathering signatures on a petition,” Carly said. “And we plan to show up at the rally on MLK day.”
Forest leaned over to take his next shot. “I’m not down with stuff at the resort itself,” he said. “I don’t think it’s cool to deliberately try to mess up people’s vacations.”
“I read in the local paper that people who are against the expansion have been vandalizing resort property,” Carly said. “That’s not right.”
“I heard a rumor some people were planning something big for MLK weekend,” Stacy said. “Something besides impeding traffic on the ski runs. I wondered if you heard anything like that.”
They shook their heads. “Maybe they were talking about the rally,” Carly said. “I heard there’s going to be a band and everything.”
“This sounded more sinister,” Stacy said. “Maybe involving explosives.”
“That sounds like something you ought to report to the sheriff,” Forest said.
“You’re right,” Connor said. He took Stacy’s arm. “We should do that.” He pulled her away from the table.
“What are you doing?” Stacy pulled away from him.
“Did you see the way they were looking at us?” he asked. “They’re going to be calling the sheriff themselves if you don’t stop talking about explosives.”
“I was trying to see if they’d volunteer some gossip of their own,” she said.
“You heard them—they’re definitely all about peaceful protests. And they don’t know Shane or his friends.”
She looked around the room for anyone else she recognized. “Maybe we should get a drink. Someone at the bar might have something interesting to say.” She frowned toward the bar, where people waited three deep for a drink.
“Why don’t we dance instead?” He took her arm again.
The lively two-step didn’t provide an opportunity for more conversation or for studying the crowd.
Stacy told herself one dance wouldn’t hurt.
It made her cover of being on a date more realistic.
And Connor was as good a dancer as she remembered.
He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help smiling in return.
For these few minutes, at least, she could be happy, dancing in the arms of a handsome man.
The song ended, and she released his hand and started to step away, but he pulled her close as the music started again. “One more,” he said.
The song was a slow one, a love song with a soaring melody.
Connor pulled her closer, and she settled against him, their clasped hands resting on his chest, his other hand at the small of her back, hers on his shoulder.
The heat of him enfolded her, his scent surrounding her. “You smell so good,” she said.
He dipped his head to the curve of her neck. “So do you.”
She hadn’t had a thing to drink, but she had the same sensation of floating a little apart from her body.
She turned her head, and her lips hovered beside his, tingling as if a current arced between them.
They had stopped moving, other couples twirling around them, and she could no longer hear the music or the voices of the crowd.
His eyes met hers, so dark they were almost black, his gaze penetrating.
Then the raucous notes of a new song startled them apart. He moved away, and she shivered with a sudden chill. “I’ll get us a drink,” he said and headed toward the bar.
She stood along one wall, watching the door. No more dancing. She had forgotten herself for a moment there. Forgotten her purpose. She didn’t like that out-of-control sensation.
A rise in conversation near the door heralded new arrivals. Jace Dennison entered with Nate Lee and two women Stacy didn’t recognize.
“Hope beer is okay.” Connor returned to her side and pressed a glass into her hand.
“Oh sure. Thanks.” She nodded toward the door. “Look who’s here.”
“Hmm.” Connor sipped his beer. “I saw Jace at the ski resort this afternoon,” he said. “He seemed upset about something. He ran off before I could say much.”
“Let’s go talk to him and his friend.” She led the way toward where the quartet had crowded around a small table. “Hey, Jace.”
“Oh hey.” Jace didn’t look particularly happy to see them.
“And I remember your friend.” Connor nodded to Nate. “But I didn’t get your name.”
“It’s Nate.”
“Hi, Nate. I’m Connor.”
“The ski patroller. I remember.”
“Did Shane find anyone to take care of those fireworks for him?” Connor asked.
Nate choked on his beer. He coughed and set the glass aside. “How did you know about the fireworks?”
“Shane asked me to help him with them,” Connor said. “I had to turn him down. I know a lot about blowing things up but nothing about putting on fireworks displays.”
“Hey, keep your voice down,” Jace said. “Somebody might hear.”
Connor sipped his beer. “Nothing illegal about fireworks,” he said. “Or the stuff we use to set off avalanches. Not if you have the right permits.”
“I’d rather talk about something else.” Jace took the hand of the woman beside him. “Let’s dance.”
“Jace has been a little jumpy since his accident,” Nate said when the couple had left. “I heard you were the one who pulled him out of that tree well.”
Connor nodded. “I guess that kind of thing would shake up anyone.”
“I know you said fireworks aren’t your thing, but you should reconsider helping us,” Nate said. “I’m sure your specialized knowledge would come in handy.”
His date, a curvy dark beauty, leaned in closer. “Nate, we came to dance,” she said.
“We can talk later,” Nate said and allowed the woman to lead him to the dance floor.
Stacy and Connor sat at the vacated table. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Jace is upset about something, but it might not have anything to do with the protests.
Nate seems to be hinting at something, but it’s easy to read too much into what people say simply because I want something to be there.
” She massaged the knot in the side of her neck.
“Everything about this case is frustrating.”
“Are your bosses pressuring you?”
She shook her head. “They haven’t said a thing. But that’s worrying, too. Maybe Dad is right, and they sent me here to get rid of me.”
“Because of your dad?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened with him? What did he do to get on the wrong side of his bosses? You said he was a rebel, but is that all there is to it?”
She almost smiled. “You’ve seen what he’s like. He says what he thinks and does what he wants. It worked great as long as he had superiors who were willing to give him free rein. But then a new regime came in, and they had a different style. More controlling. Dad isn’t easy to control.”
“And maybe his daughter takes after him.”
“I try to stick to regulations more than Dad ever did, but it’s hard when people won’t listen to your ideas.
There are people in the Bureau who would rather women stuck to making coffee and filling out reports.
You would think we’d be long past that now, but all it takes is one Neanderthal at the top, and it’s easier for others to fall in line. ”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with that. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re wrong about more going on with this protest group than just a bunch of fireworks.”
“Thanks.” She covered his hand with her own. “You’re easy to talk to.”
He turned her hand over so that they were palm to palm.
The awareness of him that had lingered since those moments on the dance floor returned.
“I don’t think we’re going to find out anything more here tonight,” she said.
Not about the protests or the stolen fireworks.
Though it felt as if she was juggling something even more explosive.
“Do you want to go home?” he asked.
“Yes.”
She reached for her coat, but he surprised her by coming around and holding it for her. He rested her hands on his shoulder, the weight of him making her feel heavy and languid. She wanted to turn into him, to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers.
Instead, she moved away, toward the door. But when they were in his truck, she said. “Don’t take me back to the condo. Let’s go back to your place.”
He slid his hands along the steering wheel. His face was turned to her, but she couldn’t read his expression in the darkness. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said.
“Okay.” She choked out the word. She would have thought she was too old to be this crushed by embarrassment. Now she didn’t know where to look.
“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, it’s just—”
“It’s okay. Forget I said anything.” What was she doing? She was supposed to be a professional. “Just take me to the condo.”
She could feel his gaze still on her, though she refused to turn toward him. After a long moment, he started the truck and drove.
As soon as they were in the parking lot, she had the door of the truck open.
“Thanks for your help,” she said. She didn’t run away, but she didn’t dawdle, the soles of her boots slapping on the pavement.
She had her key out and in the door lock while the truck was still idling behind her.
She was inside the condo, safe in the darkness, before he could say a word.