Not Colin.
But that sick fear lingered.
Not something she could tell Noah.
The doorbell rang again. “Pizza,” he said briefly and disappeared.
It turned out he’d ordered from Chandler’s, which did not as a rule deliver but, of course, did for the boss.
The cheerful kid had also brought thick stoneware plates, napkins and a liter of cola, as well as several glasses with “Chandler’s” in gilt on the sides.
It felt a little odd to open the box on the narrow breakfast bar and sit so close to Noah that his shoulder bumped hers. When she looked down, she couldn’t help seeing the way his dark trousers pulled taut over powerful muscles.
“How do you stay in shape?” she asked before she could think—and, gee, what was new in her opening her mouth too quick?—and felt her cheeks warm.
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I run and lift weights both. Plus, I’m remodeling an old house in my spare time.” His tone was dry. “Helps keep me active.”
“What I was really wondering was about health clubs.” Sure you were.
“Don’t use one. I have my own equipment at home. I hear good things about Newberry Square Athletic Club, though.”
“I enjoy classes,” she explained. “I think I need other people’s enthusiasm to motivate me. Plus, well, I was really enjoying kickboxing, and I’d feel silly doing it by myself.”
“Have you taken self-defense?”
“Of course I have! And the kickboxing isn’t because—” She abandoned a hopeless cause. “I’ll check them out.”
“You look like a runner.”
“I expect I’ll do more of that here. In Seattle, you either run on a treadmill, risk life and limb and the longevity of your knees running on sidewalks and cross too many city streets or you drive to a park. I might take up cross-country skiing, too. Since I don’t suppose running outside is an option in the winter here.”
“Some days.” He chuckled. “I run to the top of Angel Butte three or four mornings a week. You’re welcome to join me.”
She snorted. “Get real.”
His laugh deepened. “It’s a good workout. Great view when you get to the top. Then the easy part is going home.”
They both grabbed second slices of pizza.
She ate a few bites, washed them down with soda, then decided to tell him something that had happened at work.
“I think someone tried to bribe me the other day.”
“What?” Noah set down his pizza and turned those startlingly keen blue eyes on her.
“You heard me. It was…oh so smoothly done I’m not positive that’s what he was doing, but I think so.”
“Good God.” He shook his head.
“I take it you didn’t, well, suspect things like that were going on with my predecessor?”
He huffed out a breath. “Maybe. I wouldn’t be shocked. There was definitely an old boy’s club going on in Angel Butte. Rooting out the remnants of it isn’t making me real popular.”
“You mean with the old boys. There have to be a lot of newcomers who’d be outraged to know if things like that have been the norm.”
She found she could interpret his grunts, which expressed anything from indifference to, in this case, “maybe.”
“You going to tell me who?” he asked after a minute.
“Phil Barbieri.”
“Now that doesn’t surprise me.”
She knew what he meant. From what she’d heard, Phil was one of the most successful contractors in the county, surpassing even Earl in the number and breadth of projects he had going at a time. Unlike Earl, he went for government contracts as well as residential projects. He looked the part of a longtime member of that old boy’s club, too—a hefty, powerful body thickening at the waist, a broad, bluff face, weather-beaten and, she suspected, showing signs of too-frequent alcohol consumption. His complexion was red, his noise showing purplish veins.
“It’s the damn septic facility, isn’t it?” Noah said in resignation.
“Bingo. Phil does not want it placed out on Bond Road. I gather he has a lot of money already sunk into a projected development there.”