Page 7 of Dark Secrets

She took one at the far end near the wall, shifting her chair slightly so no one could walk up behind her, and keyed up the search engine. She didn’t know his last name, so she typed in the name of the bar instead, blinking in surprise when dozens of articles came up about it.

Most of them were older, talking about when he’d opened it a year ago. She clicked into one from the local paper and skimmed it. James Callahan had opened The Black Orchid pub in memory of his wife, who’d been killed in a terrible accident shortly after their wedding. That was sad and also kind of sweet.

Another article linked him as cousin to someone named Declan Callahan, one of the city’s wealthiest and most influential men, and she felt her palms go sweaty. James had seemed like such a nice, down-to-earth guy last night, but she knew looks could be deceiving. She’d have to be careful around him.

Most of the articles she clicked through were more of the same. The reason he’d opened the Orchid, his connection to Declan Callahan, his desire to create a legacy in his wife’s memory. Then, at the bottom of one article, almost like a footnote, was a mention of how he donated a percentage of his first year’s profits to a local woman’s shelter, which intrigued her. Immediately, she wondered if he did it because he was kind or because he felt guilty about something.

Glancing at the clock in the corner of the screen, she cleared her browser history and keystrokes and closed the window, winding back down the stairs and through the atrium. Almost at the doors, she spotted a little machine to validate her parking and slipped her ticket inside.

The snow had kicked up, and she hunched inside her jacket, drawing the only scarf she owned up over her mouth and nose while she walked as quick as she could to the back of the parking lot.

She did the pleading dance with her car again, sighing when it sputtered to life. The longer it took to catch, the more nervous it made her. A big repair could set her back months or, like it had in Michigan, leave her completely stranded.

She popped her validated ticket in the machine and eased out of the parking lot, following the directions of the GPS. She hated this stupid phone. They made nicer prepaid ones these days, but she’d found those to be a theft risk. No one ever looked twice at her flip phone.

The drive to the pub was free of plows and idiots eager to get around them, and she pulled alongside the curb by the front door again. The neon open sign was lit, and she let herself in, smiling at Clara, who waved. It was busy for this time of the afternoon, and she realized the press coverage was obviously more than just hype. People seemed to love this place.

“You’re back!” Clara said, stopping in front of her with her hands on her generous hips. “James said he made you an offer. Need me to go get him for you?”

“He said to meet him here at two. I guess I’m a little early.”

“He likes punctuality. You can wait at the bar if you want.”

Delaney lifted herself onto a stool and watched a man who wasn’t James mix a cocktail before pouring it into a martini glass with a flourish. She grinned as the already intoxicated girl in front of him clapped. He flushed as bright red as his hair before moving down the bar toward her.

“Hi, there. Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’m waiting to talk to James.”

“Are you Delaney?”

Delaney’s eyebrows shot up, panic instantly flooding the back of her mind that a stranger would know her name.

“Clara was talking about you this morning. Said you were a real natural. Welcome aboard.” He smiled, moving away as the door to the kitchen swung open and James trailed into the pub behind Clara.

He smiled when he saw her, and she had to wrestle that stupid flutter again. He still had the stubble she remembered from the night before, and his eyes were that same clear blue. They looked even more striking when she had the chance to study him, standing out against the pale tones of his skin and his dark hair. So dark it was almost black.

“You came.”

She tilted her head at the surprise in his voice. “Did you expect me not to?”

“I had considered you might come to your senses after the adrenaline wore off. But if you’re still game, I’ve got all the paperwork I need you to fill out in my office.”

He gestured toward the kitchen door, and she hopped off the stool, noticing how he stepped back so she could have plenty of free space to walk ahead of him. He had maybe six inches on her five-seven, and he was lean like a swimmer with narrow hips and broad shoulders. Everything about him appealed more than it should.

The kitchen pulsed with movement and heat. A woman with blue hair stood shouting orders on the line while men scurried around her. Delaney couldn’t remember her name from last night, but the searching look she sent them was familiar.

“Don’t mind Addy,” James said once they were inside his office. “Her bark is worse than her bite.”

He left the door open and crossed to the desk, motioning for her to sit in the metal chair beside it. Once they were both seated, he pulled a folder off the top of a stack and handed it to her with a pen.

“The usual. Name, birthdate, social. All that fun stuff.” He watched her for a beat before continuing. “Then I’ll need to make a copy of your license or passport.”

She hated this part. The part where she handed over her documents and waited to see if they raised alarm bells. He got up to make a copy of her license, and she quickly filled in the details it had taken her weeks to memorize. The copy machine on a shelf under the desk whirred and then fell silent, and when he handed her license back, it was slightly warm.

He scanned the pages she’d filled out and seemed to accept that everything was in order. If he ran a background check with that information, it would come back clean and say she was the daughter of a dairy farmer and his wife from Lincoln, Nebraska. She’d spent weeks memorizing those details too.

“Pay starts at twelve dollars an hour.”

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