Izzy looked up.
Wade Hollis stood there, jacket back on now, one hand tucked casually in his pocket. The cigar was gone.
A toothpick rested at the corner of his mouth.
He didn’t rush.
Didn’t apologize for interrupting.
His gaze moved from Cal to Izzy.
And stayed there.
“Cal.”
Cal leaned back in his chair. “Yeah?”
Wade shifted his weight, easy as anything.
“Why don’t you bring Miss Moreno by the house tomorrow?” he said. “Let her take a look at that wall I was telling you about.”
Not a question.
Cal glanced at Izzy, just once. “If she’s up for it.”
Wade’s eyes never left her.
“I think she will be.”
A beat.
Izzy held his gaze.
Smiled—polished, professional.
“I’d be happy to take a look,” she said.
Wade’s smile sharpened, satisfied.
“Good.”
He tapped the edge of the table lightly with his knuckle, the sound soft but deliberate.
“Don’t keep her too long,” he added to Cal. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
Then he stepped back.
Just like that.
Moving away before either of them could answer, already turning toward the exit.
A few men at the bar nodded as he passed.
The hostess straightened.
The door opened.
Closed.
