sipped. He closed his eyes and murmured, “Ahhh. That’s good. You really do know your wine, Bruce.”
Pierpont spun the bottle around so the label faced J.D. “It’s an Australian Shiraz—perfect for appetizers.”
“Then let’s order some.” J.D. skimmed his fingertip up the one-page menu printed just that day and recited each overpriced appetizer on the menu. “Anything sound good?”
“It all sounds good.” Noelle turned her head to stare at him, her brows raised.
“Are you a connoisseur of fine food, too, Bruce?”
“Yes.” Pierpont narrowed his eyes, waiting for the punch line, no doubt.
J.D. didn’t have one. He sniffed his wine; the fruity aroma was as intoxicating as the taste. “If you can pick food like you pick wine, we leave it up to you to choose something to go with this Shiraz. Right, Noelle?”
“Um, sure.” She nudged him again with the toe of her boot, but she’d have to pinch him again if she wanted his attention.
“Well, then.” Pierpont straightened up in his seat and shook out his menu, bringing it close to the candle flickering on the table. “Let’s see what they have to offer.”
When the waiter returned, Pierpont rattled off a bunch of choices, but all J.D. heard was oysters, which he detested.
When the appetizers arrived, J.D. ignored the flip-flop of his gut and prepared for his next assault on Pierpont to preoccupy his attention.
He dropped another oyster on his plate and snapped his fingers. “Pierpont—banking, right?”
“Steel.” Pierpont slurped from a shell.
J.D. gulped some water to keep from gagging. “Was that your grandfather? Great-grandfather?”
That set Pierpont off just like J.D. had known it would. If there was one thing his rich buddy, Gage, had taught him, it was that the wealthy, especially old wealth, enjoyed talking about their money and how they got it. Pierpont proved to be no exception.
As Pierpont rambled on about his family’s money and interests, they ordered their food, and J.D. got a steak to erase the fishy taste of the oysters.
By the time the waiter returned to take their dessert order, Noelle put her foot down, both figuratively and literally as her heel ground into the toe of J.D.’s boot before he could ask Pierpont another question.
“I don’t think Bruce is an expert on desserts, so I’ll take the key lime pie, please.”
J.D. jerked his thumb toward Noelle. “I’ll have some of her pie and a coffee, please.”
After Pierpont put in his order, he excused himself to use the men’s room.
When he turned the corner toward the stairs, Noelle turned on him. “What are you doing?”
“Finding out about Pierpont.”
“So run him through a search engine or ask me. I already know all this stuff about his family—ad nauseum. Once you get him wound up, you can’t turn him off.”
“I’m trying to get a measure of the man, see if he’s the stalking type.” And make sure he doesn’t unearth my identity.
“How is learning about his great-grandfather’s investment in steel mills doing that?”
“You never know. People slip up.”
“You know what?” She held up her hands. “I thought you were good at this spy stuff. Now I have serious doubts. I want to find out what he’s doing here. He’s never fully explained that.”
The waiter delivered their coffee. “The desserts will be right up. Would you like two forks for that key lime pie?”
“Please.”
Pierpont returned before they could continue their discussion. He tipped some cream into his coffee cup. “And what about you, J.D.? Your family’s in ranching?”
Noelle tapped her spoon on the side of her water glass. “I hate to break up this little bromance, but I’d like some answers of my own, Bruce.”
Atta girl, Noelle.
Pierpont looked up from swirling the cream into his coffee in what looked like a perfect spiral. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Why did you follow me out to Colorado?”
“I thought we discussed this. I was in the market for a ski vacation and your presence in Buck Ridge seemed fortuitous.”
“Why is my presence necessary for your ski vacation?”
“Just because Alex left us doesn’t mean I’m any less interested in helping you turn that guesthouse into a studio. That’s one investment I’d like to make.”
“And I thought we discussed this before. I don’t need your help to turn it into a studio.”
“I know. I know.” Pierpont paused as the waiter put the two desserts on the table. “The money you got from Alex’s life insurance should be put aside as a nest egg or invested. You shouldn’t use it for the studio.”
Noelle clutched her fork, the knuckles of her hand turning white. “It seems