Wilde Riders (Old Town Country Romance) (2 page)

Two

Riley

I can’t believe I have to make a trip to New Jersey. And rural New Jersey to boot. Would someone just shoot me now and put me out of my misery?

“Riley!” I hear a voice yell from behind me. It’s a voice I recognize and don’t really want to deal with right now. I contemplate speeding up my pace but I have a feeling Patti will just quicken her stride to catch up to me so what’s the point?

Patti is almost breathless when she finally manages to grab my elbow. “Where are you going so fast?” 

I can’t believe she’s been running in Jimmy Choos and a business suit. Patti is 5 feet 9 inches and towers over me. She probably could have been a model with her gorgeous blonde hair and flawless complexion. I’m petite with dark hair and eyes to match. We’re almost complete opposites in the looks department. And probably every other department if the truth be told. 

“New Jersey.” I spit
out. I know I sound bitter but I can hardly contain my contempt for the state. Well, maybe not the
entire
state. I’ll give Atlantic City a pass but only because you can get drunk and gamble and it doesn’t require a plane flight like going to Las Vegas.

Patti and I work together at H & C Bank but we’ve known each other for years. We were college roommates. I don’t have siblings so Patti is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister.

She frowns. “Why are you going to Jersey?” The way she says Jersey makes it sounds like I’m going to a garbage dump or a toxic waste site. Those options might be a few steps up from a trip to rural New Jersey.

“I have to conduct a fraud investigation on a business loan. It shouldn’t take very long.”
Oh, God, I hope it doesn’t
. “I plan to be back tonight.”

She
smiles. “Good because we’ve got a double date.”

“With who?” I sigh. Patti manages to fix me up with
the worst guys in the city. I don’t know how she does it. They’re all Wall Street wannabes and the only things they talk about are their 6-Series BMWs and the first million they’re going to make before they turn thirty. Most of them are so impressed with themselves they’re actually offended that I don’t want to jump into bed with them on the first date.

“These guys are different,” she says.

Patti always says they’re different and they never are. They’re the same guys over and over again just in different suits and shoes.

“No,” I state adamantly. “I’m not going out with one more Wall Street wannabe. Forget it.” 

“Please,” Patti begs. She’s got a look in her eye that says she’s not going to stop until I agree to go.

“Fine,” I say. “But if the guy drops one hint about his six fi
gure salary or the fantastic view from his brand new apartment, I’m out of there. And I get to throw a drink in his lap if he mentions making his first million before thirty. Got it?”

“I don’t know why stuff like that upsets you so much. You have an MBA from Columbia and you just bought your first BMW.”

“And I’m well on my way to making my first million. But I don’t throw it in people’s faces when I first meet them. I want to know who the guy really is—what makes him tick. I don’t want to hear his impressive resume and a list of everything he owns.”

She
shrugs. “I just want to know if a guy’s good in bed. But I usually don’t find that out until after dinner. I don’t care what we talk about in between.”

I shake my head. “You’re like a guy trapped in a gorgeous girl’s body.”

She laughs. “So I’ve been told.”

“Is the double date really that important to you?”

She looks at me like I’m from another planet. “I haven’t gotten laid in almost two weeks. I’d say it’s nearing emergency level.”

I don’t want to tell her that it’s been months since I’ve been with someone. Six months to be exact.

“Fine, I’ll try to get back to the city as fast as I can.”

She grins. “That’s why you’re my best friend.”

“I’m your only friend,” I correct.

“Best. Only. Semantics. I’ll see you tonight.”

***

The drive into New Jersey is exhausting. My only saving grace is that most of the traffic is going into the city instead of out of the city like I am. You’ve got to love those bridge and tunnel guys. I wouldn’t date one but I have a little bit of respect for them. The commute into Manhattan turns a nine hour work day into an eleven hour one, if you’re lucky.

  I can feel my stomach start to knot as I get further away from the city and further away from civilization. Pretty soon I’ll be in the sticks surrounded by woods and farmland. I can almost smell the manure that will no doubt take days to completely clear from my nasal passages. I pray that I don’t run into any animals, especially cows, which are huge, smelly and completely freak me out. The only live animals I ever care to see have to fit comfortably in a handbag, like a Chihuahua or Teacup Poodle, for example.

I have an appointment with a man named Jake Wilde. He asked me to come early, before the place opens at noon, so he could give me his full attention. I try to imagine what someone named Jake Wilde would look like
. All I can come up with is an old gunslinger like Clint Eastwood in
Unforgiven
.

As I pull into Old Town the place looks exactly like I thought it would. The buildings in the town square are old and I imag
ine the place hasn’t changed much in the last hundred years or so.

Haymakers is
just past the town square, down the hill from the deli, next to the gas station
. Those were the exact directions I was given, in those words. I take that to mean the town only has one gas station and one deli.

When I pull into the parking lot there’s only one other vehicle sitting there. It’s an old
, beat-up Dodge Ram. I almost laugh out loud. A vehicle like that fits the country bumpkin stereotype like a glove. Then I have a brief moment of panic and wonder if it’s safe to park my BMW in the dirt lot. I remind myself where I am. Who is going to mess with it in the middle of the day? A stray deer from the woods out back? The only thing I probably have to worry about is it getting dusty.

I take a deep breath. I have to be thankful there’s no manure smell yet.
The quicker you do this
, I remind myself,
the quicker you can get back to the lovely asphalt jungle you call home
.

I’m hit with a gust of wind as soon as I get out of my car. How is it possible that Old Town is even windier than lower Manhattan? I didn’t think I’d ever find a place windier than Wall Street. Even the Windy City didn’t seem this windy when I had business in Chicago.

When I enter the bar, I try to smooth down my thick hair, which I know is probably a complete mess from the gust. I’m surprised by the homey feel of the place. How could someone like me possibly feel at home in a country bar? Even if I was wearing jeans and cowboy boots, if I even
owned
jeans and cowboy boots, I wouldn’t fit in at a place like this. 

I hear someone clear his throat and I turn to see a guy about my age, mid-twenties, standing next to me. I can’t help my surprise when I see he’s wearing khakis and a polo shirt, like he just stepped off of a golf course. He looks as out of place in this country bar as I feel.

“Are you Jake Wilde?” I ask.

The guy gives me the faintest hint of a smile but it’s almost as if it pains him to give that much. His deep brown eyes look even more distressed and I can’t help but wonder what’s behind those sad eyes.

He rakes his fingers through his thick dark hair. “A little windy out, isn’t it?”

My hand automatically goes to my hair and I try to casually flatten it down again. I imagine I must look like I just stepped out of a wind tunnel.

“Your hair looks fine,” the guy tries to assure me. But he’s got that hint of a smile on his face again and it makes me wonder if he’s lying just to make me feel better.

“I’m Cooper Wilde,” the guy says as he offers a hand.

I don’t know why I suddenly feel nervous about shaking it. It’s a business meeting. That’s what people do. But the way this guy is looking at me gives me the feeling that he might be interested in more than just business.

But I’m not
, I remind myself. Not only because I’ve all but sworn off men, I’m here to do a job. I’ve been working for H & C Bank for two years and this is my first solo assignment as a lead investigator. If I continue to do well, I’ll be well on my way to becoming a Vice President before I turn thirty. I don’t need a man to throw me off my career path. And definitely not some guy in a country bar in rural New Jersey.

I take his hand and give it a quick shake but I can’t bring m
yself to look into his smoldering eyes again. “I’m Riley Smith.”

“I figured that,” Cooper says.

“Why is that?”

That hint of a smile has returned to his face again. “We don’t often get women in business suits in the bar.”

I’m not sure why I’m suddenly overcome with the urge to get a real smile out of Cooper Wilde. I don’t know even know the guy but it somehow seems important. I get the feeling he hasn’t really smiled in a while and it’s long overdue.

Not that I’ve had much occasion for real smiles myself lately.

“My brother will be here in a minute or two. He’s just printing a few documents from the computer. Purchase orders and receipts.”

I nod and look around the place. From the outside, I thought it was going to be a dive but the place actually has character. I can tell the wooden bar is old, and it looks hand carved, as do the barstools. There’s a large stage area that looks new. That’s one of the expenses I was charged with investigating. I try to image what the place looks like filled with patrons watching a local band play on a Friday night.

“Ms. Smith?” I hear a deeper male voice say.

I look up to see another guy approaching. He also looks
like he’s in his mid-twenties but he more like what I’d expect inside a country bar. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt with jeans and cowboy boots. His hair is lighter than Cooper’s and his face is rounder, more boyish, but there’s definitely a family resemblance between these two guys. They’re both about the same height, around six feet, with athletic builds, like they play sports.

“I’m Jake Wilde,” the lighter haired guy says.

I try not to laugh as I look at Jake. He’s young, attractive and nothing like Clint Eastwood in
Unforgiven
. So much for my speculation about his name.

I notice Jake has papers in his hands. “Maybe we should have a seat at one of the tables.” He motions to
the table closest to us.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asks. Jake has one thing that Cooper doesn’t. An absolutely killer smile. It’s the kind of smile that can probably get any girl into bed in a matter of minutes. Well, any girl except me. I no longer fall for guys with smiles like that. It hurts too much the next morning when they say they’ll call, and give you that smile, and you know they’re lying and you’ll never hear from them again.

“I’ll take some water,” I reply.

Jake actually winks at me before he turns to head towards the bar. The guy knows how to charm people
. I’ll give him credit for that.

  I notice Cooper now has the papers in his hand. Without saying anything, he sits down and I follow.

“I think this is everything you’ll need as far as the fraud investigation is concerned. We’ve got purchase orders for all of the improvements as well as receipts for the completed work. You’re sitting at one of the new tables right now. And you can see the new stage from here. I’d be happy to take you up to the new roof, if you’d like to see it.”

Cooper pushes the stack of papers toward me. I quickly thumb through them. I’ll make a few phone calls when I get back into the city to verify everything and cover my butt. At first glance, though, everything looks clean. It doesn’t seem like a case of fraud, more likely poor bookkeeping.

“The loan hasn’t been paid in months,” I say even though that’s not really my department. I’m here only for the fraud investigation. They’ll be dealing with someone else regarding the default on the loan.

“I know,” Cooper says, and I can see more darkness ove
rshadow his already dark eyes. “I’m going to try and fix that.”

Jake comes back with three bottles of water. “Bottle okay or would you like a glass?” he asks.

“Bottle is fine,” I say.

He
sets the bottles down on the table and takes the seat right next to me. I’m a little taken aback by how much space he commands. And not just because of his size. It’s his energy—his being—that’s so large.

“So what did I miss?” Jake asks.

Cooper eyes his brother and I can see there’s a little bit of animosity between them. Or at least there is on Cooper’s part. Jake seems kind of oblivious to it.  

Cooper rubs his temple and says, “I was just telling Miss Smith that we’re willing to cooperate with her investigation in any way we can. I’ve given her all of the documents she’ll need.”