Page 46 of The Fixer

“Not that I’ve seen. If I were one of those girls, I’d give up the chase. He obviously isn’t interested in being caught. Then again, good-looking single guys are rare in these parts. But hey, if he’s one of the draws that brings customers in, then I’m all for objectifying the hell out of him!”

“Amen,” Joy agreed. “Food service is tough, but it looks like Noah’s hit on the right formula.”

“Fingers crossed; this business is so unpredictable. When we first met, he was teetering on the brink of disaster, but things have turned around since then and seem to be going in the right direction.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” In her most casual tone, she posed, “What about that blond brother? Is he teetering too? Is that one of the reasons he’s behind the bar so frequently?” Yeah, she was fishing, but she wanted to know if her initial impression was true—that Charlie Hunnicutt lived paycheck to paycheck—or if the new image nibbling at the edges of her consciousness was the more accurate picture. A would-be-engineer with the determination and audacity to start a business at seventeen? The guy was motivated, but did that translate to financial success? Contracting wasn’t an easy business either. Was someone else footing the bill? Mom and Dad?

Always verify.

“No, Charlie doesn’t take any pay or keep his tips. He does it to help out. Also, Miners Tavern is the happening place in town, and I think he enjoys the social time.”

“You mean the flirting time.”

“Ha! No, not just that. He spends lots of time talking to visitors about where they’re from, their adventures, stuff like that. He seems to reallyenjoy it. But to answer your original question, it’s my understanding both Charlie and Reece are set for life.” When Joy gave her a quizzical look, Hailey added. “The grandparents left each grandson a trust fund. Reece and Charlie invested theirs wisely. Noah, not so much.”

“There’s a story there,” Joy prodded, wanting to know more. She encountered passed-on wealth on a daily basis and was always fascinated by how people managed it. At times, she daydreamed about how her life might have been had she inherited a great fortune instead of building it through her own blood, sweat, and tears. Well, not tears because Joy didn’t cry.

“Noah blew his wad on wine, women, and song,” Hailey explained. “He had a great time doing it, but boy oh boy, hindsight is a bitch.”

“Sounds like he has regrets.”

“Lots, but he’s getting over them. He learns best through hard knocks, and I think success wouldn’t be quite as sweet if the road had been easy. And we wouldn’t have met. So there’s that.”

Joy flipped through a stack of about ten paperbacks with frayed covers and pages, pausing on one that featured a bare-chested man—the first big clue it was a romance—leaning against a brick wall with the top button of his jeans undone, wearing a look that promised one sweaty, sleepless, and satisfying night of dirty sex. He might as well have worn a sign that blared, “Down for fucking all night long.” He sported long blond hair—perfect for yanking during the throes—though the man’s face struck an eerily familiar chord inside her.Huh.Her eye was drawn to a distinct tattoo she’d seen before. A shock wave rippled through her.

What was it Mary said?Flowing blond hair.

No, it couldn’t be!Joy shoved the book under a cabinet.

Hailey was talking, and Joy tried to refocus her attention, yanking it away from the beefcake cover. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I was just talking about what Reece and Charlie did with their money.”

“I got distracted by these.” Joy thrust the books—minus the one stashed under the display case—at Hailey. “Could you use these for your shop?”

“Thanks, but with the limited space, I’m only dealing in new books for now.” She took them from Joy’s grasp and shoved them into one of the donation bags.

Joy inspected a moth-eaten beaded bag with rows of its fine beads missing. “So you were sharing what Charlie and Reece did with their trust funds.” Yes, she definitely wanted to hear aboutthat—especially the part about Charlie.

“Reece took the money and dabbled in the markets. He turned himself into a serious day trader, which gives him the freedom to pursue his real passion—search and rescue. Charlie started his construction company, and he’s built it into something amazing, according to everyone around here. That, and his reputation supports it. He has celebrities from Aspen who want to hire him, so you’re a lucky girl that he’s able to carve out time for this place.” Hailey waved her arms around the unkempt space.

“There you go, playing his PR team again,” Joy quipped.

Hailey gave her a contrite smile. “He really is the best, and I’m not just saying that. He’s a perfectionist, which makes it hard on him sometimes, but it’s great for his clients. He always delivers everything they expect and then some.”

Joy reassured her with a smile of her own. “I was teasing.” She took a swig from her water bottle. “What do you hear about a guy named Carl Weatherly?”

“Yech! That guy? Nothing good. He’s attached to Bruno Keating, and anyone associated with Bruno is bad news. He makes snakes look like harmless earthworms,” Hailey scoffed.

“Interesting. Mr. Weatherly stopped by yesterday to … Let’s see, how do I put this without making him sound like an opportunistic toad?” Joy tapped a finger against her chin, and her jagged nail reminded her she’d broken it the day before when she’d first tackled her mother’s mess. She needed to find a salon where she could get a manicure before Saturday—not that she was trying to impress anyone for any reason. She just liked having perfect nails. “I guess I can’t. He stopped by to steal my business. He tried to get me to hire him by skewering Past Perfect.”

Hailey’s eyebrows angled into angry slashes. “Oh, don’t use him! I mean, not unless you’re a glutton for headaches and getting ripped off. If you decide not to work with Charlie, there are much better choices than Carl Weatherly. They won’t be as meticulous or talented as Charlie, but at least they’re honest … unlike Carl Weatherly. I know I shouldn’t be talking behind the guy’s back, but—”

Joy smirked. “Don’t feel bad. You’ve actually confirmed my intuition. Something about him set off warning bells in my head. Could have been his smarmy smile or the sneaky approach he used when he weaseled his way in here or the way he started tearing down Past Perfect Restorations within five minutes of introducing himself. No finesse. If you’re going to undermine someone, you need to be more subtle about it.”

They both burst into laughter. The mirth set Joy’s insides fizzing, releasing happy bubbles that had been pent up for far too long.

She warmed to the thought Charlie truly was bending over backward in an effort to accommodate her … and not because he was desperate for work. Sure, he wanted to do the project, but his motivation wasn’t all about money. His speeches about preserving the town were genuine, and at heart he was aniceguy. She didn’t meet many nice guys. He’d shown his colors when he’d covered for his brother at the bar and when he’d let her have the use of his shower. She wasn’t used to people being kind just to be … kind. Greed was the prime driver in her world—along with self-preservation—though she dressed it up in all kinds of nice-sounding terms, like “the client’s best interest.”

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