Page 48 of Fluffed and Folded

“I don’t know about that,” he murmured.

Silence descended that felt awkward to Darby. Worse, she didn’t know how to break it. Eli shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat. “I feel like there’s something we need to discuss.”

Her cheeks flooded with heat. He was going to bring up the kiss, she knew it, had been waiting for it like impending doom. “What?” she croaked.

“I don’t want to upset you. Maybe I should wait.” His glance fled toward her room, probably wondering if he should say goodnight and let her go to bed.

“Just say it,” she said. The sooner they got this over with the better.

He took a bracing breath and made himself look her in the eye. “What did you mean when you said you were afraid Asher was going to kill you?”

CHAPTER 27

For a while, Tristan feared he’d have to go to Manitoba. He needed to know how Asher was able to secure the contract for his company, and he also knew no one would tell him that sort of information over the phone. If he had any chance of solving that mystery, it would have to be in person. He went so far as to check flight times before a little bit of serendipity occurred, via Elyse.

Elyse was one of the only people who ranked as an automatic answer, whenever she called, because she hated talking on the phone almost as much as he did. Generally, when they needed to touch base, it was through email or text. So when he glanced down and saw her name on his phone, he knew it was important.

“I was hacking that Canadian company you wanted me to look into,” she began with no preamble. Another thing he liked about Elyse was that she cut to the chase. Really, it was a shame she was in Maine and not in the office more because they worked together fabulously. It was nice to have another misanthrope around to counter Josie and Gaines, who saw the entire world through childish delight. Josie he could excuse for this, because she taught kindergarten. No one wanted a goth princess to teach their five year old. But Gaines? The guy had been a SEAL andspy, had gotten half his body bitten off by a great white shark, andstillmanaged to be one of the most cheerful people Tristan had ever met. It was disturbing how committed he was to staving off reality.

Tristan gave a grunt, encouraging Elyse to continue.

“One of the execs is in DC for meetings, for three more days,” she declared.

“Huh,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she said and hung up, knowing those would probably be the only live words they would exchange in the next eight months or so.

Tristan clicked on the information she’d forwarded him, deciding to bypass an attempt to make an appointment.In person is always better,he thought, tucking his chair into his desk as he stood.

Thanks to Elyse, he had the guy’s itinerary. Of course that didn’t mean he’d stick to it, but it was a place to start. Tristan found the conference center where his meetings were supposed to take place and did a bit of recon. He was the type of guy who blended in at professional settings, as if he were a serious businessman who liked to work out a little more than average. He eased into the back room of a presentation on increasing margins, feigning interest until he located his subject, who was in attendance like a good junior executive.

Unable to stomach the entire meeting, he eased back to his car to wait. He had to circle the block for forty minutes before he found street parking with a view of the conference center, but he had nothing else to do but wait. In the meantime he chose to be thankful for his job, which was well-suited to his ability and desire to manage his own life. He could never stomach the sort of career where he worked in an office, under the management of someone who tracked his hours and performance. Gaines was his boss, obviously, the one who paid the bills and ultimatelyapproved Tristan’s expenses, but he was not a micromanager, and he trusted Tristan to keep his own hours and get the job done, which Tristan always did, probably with more hours than a true manager would have assigned to him. He tended to live, eat, and breathe a job until it was finished, because he had the type of brain that immersed itself in a mystery and couldn’t let go, like a honey badger. But he also had the sort of brain that, if explicitly told to do something, would explicitly rebel. So he was glad he was the one in the car, and not the one in the meeting, even if it meant he had to stay in that car for three hours, waiting on the one in the meeting to be done.

When the meeting was over, the guy—Steve Stover—walked the six blocks to his hotel. Tristan knew, because he followed him. It was highly possible the man was peopled out and would order takeout in his room, but Tristan found that people who went on business trips were often the type of people who also sought society while eating or drinking, and he was proved correct. Instead of heading straight for his room, as Tristan would have, he stopped at the hotel’s bar and ordered a drink, tossing Tristan a curious glance when he slid onto the stool beside him and gave him a heads up nod.

“What’s up?” Tristan said, which was actually a lot for him to say to a stranger and seemed like a waste of words, because the man wouldn’t understand how much it robbed his daily allotment of expendable vocabulary. But Tristan knew people, however much he didn’t like them, and he knew this guy needed an opening, was probably hungry for a friendly ear, after his long day of boring meetings.

“Hey,” the guy said, giving him a friendly nod in return. “You here for a meeting?”

“Nah, I’m local, but I like this bar. It’s quiet.” That part was true, it was pleasantly quiet and uncrowded. “How about you?”

“Yeah, here for a few days on business.” He sighed the weary sigh of a man who spent his life in a cubicle.

“Where you from?” Tristan asked.

“Canada,” the man said, which would have been obvious to Tristan from the accent, but he nodded again, as if it were new information.

“What part?”

“Manitoba.”

Tristan’s eyes brightened. “I had a buddy who used to head up there on business.” He gave his head a self-deprecating shake. “Of course, it probably wasn’t where you’re from. Canada’s huge, Manitoba especially.”

“Where did your buddy go?” Good old Steve. It was hard not to picture him as a fish, with a hook and bait dangling from his mouth.

“Corona.”

Steve’s eyes bugged. “That’s where I’m from. What’s your buddy’s name?”

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