Page 6 of Fire Peak

“Hm.” Not that she didn’t believe him—that rang true with her knowledge of the financial world—but in her experience, people were all too willing to run their mouths. If not, there would be no need for NDAs. If she really wanted to, she could probably get him talking. People loved to impress.

But she had other priorities, namely her father.

Nick opened his car door and carefully lifted the towel piled with leaves and the trembling bird. Before he stepped out, he said, “I appreciate the assist. Can I thank you over dinner?”

She cocked her head at him, feeling sassy and sexy. “Are we talking Denny’s or IHOP?”

“We’re talking whatever’s the best place in town. I’ll do the research on that, it’s my thing. Unless you have a favorite spot?”

“Nope. Research away.”

3

Charlie had a blast at dinner. Nick chose a place called Il Trovatore, which Charlie had never been to, but which had the best pumpkin gnocchi she’d ever tasted. They shared a bottle of white wine, then a bottle of red wine to balance it out. Then a rosé so as not to play favorites.

They toasted to Hector’s eighty percent chance of survival. Then they toasted to Nick’s sixty percent chance of winning his daughter’s approval. Charlie proposed a toast to her own five percent chance of bonding with Goldilocks.

“Realistic yet not giving up. I approve, Charlie Santa Lucia.” He lifted his glass in a toast. He didn’t seem to mind spending money, making it clear from the start that this dinner was on him. Maybe he was on an expense account.

After the fourth bottle of wine, she wondered just how generous that expense account was.

“Still clear as a bell, by the way,” she told him as she polished off bottle four. It’s almost impossible to get me drunk.”

“Wouldn’t think of trying.”

“See, I’m tall. I’m not sure you noticed. It takes a lot of wine to make me even slightly buzzed. I have body mass on my side.”

“You know, I did notice.” His eyes were dark and warm and reminded her of those of her first crush. He propped his elbows on the table. “Where’d your height come from, your mother or father?”

Odd question. Or maybe not. She wasn’t sure. Maybe the wine was actually catching up to her. “Why do you ask?”

“Been thinking a lot about genetics lately, since my daughter came into my life. I had nothing to do with raising her. But we have these funny similarities anyway. Not just physical, like this.” He pointed to his left eyebrow, which had a higher arch than his right. “Same eyebrows, poor kid. But it’s more than that. She likes the outdoors, same as me. Loves sweets, same as me. She procrastinates like a champ, same as me, but also works best under pressure. Same as me.”

“I’m like that too.”

“See? Did you get that from either of your parents, or is it just the way you are?”

“In general, I’m more like my father. I never felt like my mom and I had much in common. Our height, our hair, that’s about it. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl.”

Nick’s eyes glinted over the rim of his glass, before he set it down. “I wish my daughter was a daddy’s girl, but it’s probably too late for that. Were you always close to your father, or did it happen later in life? Give me some hope here.”

She wanted to give him hope. But talking about her father…oh, what was the harm? Being cagey all the time took its toll.

“My father doted on me. He probably spoiled me, but it didn’t feel that way at the time. He was my best friend. I could always run to him with my little problems and he always took me seriously and helped me feel better. He made me feel like I could do anything, like I was a mini-Wonder Woman. I heard someone say once that when you’re a child, as long as there’s one person who really believes in you, you’ll be okay. That was my dad for me. That’s why?—”

Good lord. Under Nick’s interested gaze, she’d almost blabbed about her father going to prison.

“That’s why I’d do anything for him,” she said instead.

His eyebrow lifted. “Dramatic statement. How do you mean? Is he okay?”

The need to talk about him overwhelmed her better judgment. “He’s…sick. He has a form of emphysema that needs pretty intensive treatment.”

“So you’re helping him out?”

“Yes.” Leave it at that. “I wish I could do more, but he, uh, doesn’t live here. I’m trying to change that.”

“That’s kind of you. Taking care of a parent is a lot of work.”

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