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The luring scent of cheese and all sorts of food goodness hit me when I walked into the place. The sights and smells threw me back to all the times before I left for college whenwe’d eaten here. My teenage mind found it fancy and special. Gram really wasn’t a go-out kind of gal except for her regular lunch with the ladies, but she knew I loved the place and made excuses to take me there.

Reynolda Village consisted of a group of buildings that used to be part of a bigger estate owned by a tobacco-rich family, though a different tobacco-rich family from the one that owned Graylyn Estate. The main house now operated as a museum. The former barn and other outbuildings had been turned into an upscale eating and shopping destination.

I was a big fan of all of it but mostly this restaurant. The white building with the green shutters. The outside tables with the big umbrellas. Those amazing homemade potato chips served warm with a ranch dipping sauce. I’d eaten about a million of them over the years.

The good memories screeched to a halt when I saw the one bad thing about the restaurant—Brock sitting in it. He’d picked the lunch rush to meet—the more people to see my downfall the better—because everything about him was annoying.

I waded through full tables filled with lively conversation to get to him. He glanced up but didn’t say hello. Just nodded at the empty chair in front of him. Not the cheeriest of welcomes but then, we didn’t like each other, so why pretend.

He studied me for a second. The kind of studying an old-time executioner might have done before sharpening his axe.

He jumped in without preamble. “Where’s your status report? I asked for it in writing. It’s due today. Right now.”

Oh, right. That. It didn’t exist because what the hell would I write? “I told you I’d experienced unexpected delays.”

After a few beats of tense silence, Brock leaned forward withhis elbows on the table. “You mean you needed time to invent a scheme that would cover your lies.”

Exactly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I’d already lost the thread of the conversation because a server went by carrying a tray. Every meal on those plates looked delicious. Interesting how Brock had both menus on his side of the table.

“Maybe you think it’s okay to have your employer pay for a trip home and an unnecessary vacation, but it’s not. It’s unprofessional.” He set his water glass to the side. “Even you should know that.”

Even you? I fell back on fake outrage to avoid admitting he had a valid point. “This is an intricate deal with a lot of moving parts. My deal. There are emotions at play but there’s also an opportunity for a lucrative ending that benefits all of us.”

Kudos to me for using a firm voice and projecting confidence. I’d been clear, no-nonsense, as I spouted bullshit. Mostly I wanted to know if he’d ordered and if he intended to buy my lunch.

Brock shook his head. “How do you think this is going to end, Kasey?”

Excellent question. “It’s possible this deal won’t work. I suggested it. I didn’t guarantee its success.”

“You’re wasting time and I’m about done.”

In his defense, he wasn’t wrong. He was the boss, and we all needed the firm to make money. I was the one lying and making the mess. That didn’t mean I had to like the words or him.

He placed his napkin on the table as the crowd noise swelled behind him. “I’m going to use the restroom. When I get back we’re going to discuss how you intend to present the truth toMicah and what that will mean for your continued employment with NOI.”

With that not-so-veiled threat, he and his expensive sneakers stomped off.

“Kasey?”

The unexpected male voice made me jerk and smack my hand into Brock’s water glass. I caught it right before it tipped. “What the—”

Jackson stood, looming over the table, looking kind of pissed. “Who was that?”

“Have you always been this sneaky?” I looked around. “Where did you come from?”

“I just finished a business meeting. I was sitting a few tables away.” He pointed somewhere behind me. “You walked past me when you came in. I guess you didn’t see me.”

Only because I’d been so focused on Brock and my dislike for Brock and how much the meeting with Brock was going to suck.

Jackson sat down in the unused chair next to me. “Answer my question.”

Tension thrummed off him. His face had this clenched look to it, like he planned to bluster around and not listen to anything I had to say.

“Are you okay?” If he got this stressed at work then he needed to find a new job. When I said the law sucked, people should listen to me.

“Your friend?” he asked without context or more information.