I glance at her. She meets my gaze without flinching.Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
“RidgeLine is my client, and they hired me to gather information and report to the board, so I can’t go public,” I tell her. “But I’ll put together an ironclad case so when it does go to court, it’ll be slam dunk for the prosecution. They’ll have a mountain of evidence against him.”
We work for another hour. By the time we finish, I have everything I need to take to RidgeLine's board. My job is done.
But I’m not ready to say goodbye to Rhea.
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”Please say yes.
She blinks, surprised. "Sure. You do make amazing sandwiches.”
I scoff. “I’m not making sandwiches. I’m making you a proper meal this time.”
I move into the kitchen and line up the ingredients—pasta, the meatballs I rolled this morning, garlic bread waiting for the oven. I set the water to boil and get the sauce going, easing into the familiar rhythm of it. Nothing complicated. Just quality ingredients and a meal that does its job.
I pour a splash of red wine into the pan to loosen the onions, then fill two glasses and carry one back to her, watching the way her eyes follow me.
“Mmm,” she says. “I usually just drink boxed wine.”
“This is nicer than the wine I usually buy,” I admit. “I wanted to impress you.”
Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink. “You’ve succeeded.”
I force myself to pry my eyes away from hers and focus on stirring the sauce. I don’t want it to burn.
She clears her throat. "You cook often?"
"Every day," I say, my voice teasing. "A man has to eat.”
She smiles at that. “Lots of men eat takeout.”
I grin back at her. “I do a fair bit of that, too. And sandwiches,” I add with a wink.
“With gourmet pickles, though.”
“Indeed.”
When the food is ready, I set two plates on the table and sit across from her. We eat without much conversation at first. But it does not feel awkward. It feelscomfortable.
"This is delicious," she says after a few bites.
"We have the ladies at the Pine Hollow farmer’s market to thank for the fresh herbs and vegetables.”
“I really need to visit this farmer’s market,” she says with a laugh. “What made you choose Pine Hollow when you decided to leave Denver?”
I lean back in my chair. "I needed space. Distance. Somewhere I could work without people looking over my shoulder. But I also needed to be close enough to the city to attract a variety of clients. Pine Hollow fit the bill.”
"And you don't miss the city?"
"Not even a little.”
She takes another sip of her wine. "I've been thinking about leaving RidgeLine for a while now. Even before all of this."
I look at her, waiting.
"Corporate culture is starting to get to me," she continues. "There’s office politics, probably not that different from what you described at the police department. There are always people climbing the corporate ladder, looking out for their own best interests before the company’s, you know? Competence is seldom rewarded, and I’ve watched countless people get promoted just because they networked with the right people.”
“The good ol’ boys club, where deals are made on the golf course?”
