A table of rough-looking locals brazenly looked the group of Caldwell executives up and down before turning back to whisper amongst themselves. Baxter watched as word of their arrival spread through the crowd. More than a few sets of eyes turned to check out the big bad developers. The hatred towards him and his crew was palpable. He knew that not everyone was going to be in support of Caldwell Creek, but he hadn’t expected to be public enemy number one.

  Nicole bounded back to the entrance. “I’ve got us a spot,” she smiled.

  “We should go,” Baxter said. “I don’t think we’re welcome here.” He wondered how long it was going to take for one of the locals to get drunk enough to start throwing punches.

  “My friend Serena is here. It’s all good.” Nicole smiled. She grabbed Barry by his arm. “Come on guys, I haven’t seen her in years.”

  “Alright, one drink and then we’re out of here,” Baxter said.

  As they followed Nicole to meet her friend, Baxter could feel more than one set of eyes boring holes through his expensive jacket.

  “Wait,” Baxter said. “We can’t show up empty-handed. I’ll go get a couple of pitchers for the table.” Peace offerings, he thought to himself.

  “Okay,” Nicole smiled. “We’ll be over there.” She pointed to the back-right corner of the roped-off area. “The one beside the fire pit.”

  Baxter held his head high as he wove through the crowd. He wasn’t going to get run out of town, but he also didn’t like being persona non grata. He wished he knew a way to win over the locals. While he waited in the beer line, he watched the band play, the lead guitarist was a John Mayer doppelganger, not just in looks, but in skill as well. He wore fingerless gloves and his fingers flew over the strings of his acoustic guitar. There were some people dancing, and it struck Baxter that he’d never been in a place with so much laughter. When they weren’t shooting him death stares, almost everyone in the entire place was smiling and laughing.

  “What can I get you?” The bartender, a young guy with a beard, asked.

  “I’ll take three pitchers of whatever you recommend.”

  “Roger that.” He filled up the jugs and set them on the folding table. “That’ll be thirty.”

  A steal of a deal, Baxter thought to himself. No wonder everyone’s getting plastered. He handed over his black credit card. The young man raised his eyebrows as he read the card. “Wait a second,” Baxter said, stopping him before he could punch in the amount. “What’s your name?”

  The young man paused and looked up through raised eyebrows. “Charlie.”

  “Charlie, put everyone’s drinks on that card. Can you do that?”

  “Really? For how long?” He asked.

  “The rest of the night,” Baxter said firmly.

  “Are you serious?” He tapped Baxter’s card on the back of his hand.

  “As a heart attack, Charlie.” Baxter smiled and winked. He saw the lumberjack’s tough façade crack. “Is it going to be a problem?”

  Charlie shrugged his shoulders and shot him a genuine smile, “I don’t see why it would be.”

  Baxter picked up the pitchers of beer. “I’ll leave that card with you and I’ll be back to sign off on it.”

  “You got it, Mr…” The bartender looked down at the card, “Baxter Caldwell.”

  Baxter nodded and made his way through the crowd, his beer bounty in hand, his eyes trained on Nicole’s white fur hat. He reached the table and set down the jugs with intense focus. “Where’s your lederhosen, Fraulein,” Thomas laughed.

  “That’s Boss Fraulein to you,” Baxter chuckled, but his laughter was cut short as he glanced at the other members of their table and saw Charlotte O’Hare.

  Nicole patted the bench seat beside her. “Baxter, this is my old friend Serena Cruise.”

  Baxter extended his hand to the pretty blond woman seated across from Kate. “Baxter Caldwell. Pleased to meet you.” She looked very familiar, but it took him a second to place her. “You were in the ax-throwing contest,” he said.

  “Last place,” she smiled and held up her cup. Serena took over the introductions, “This is Freddie.” The handsome man in the Patagonia coat sitting beside her stood up to shake his hand. “And that’s Charlotte--”

  “O’Hare,” Baxter finished her sentence. “We’ve met.”

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. Caldwell,” Charlotte said. “Glad to see you’re taking my advice.”

  Baxter stepped his leg over the bench set and sat down across from Charlotte. He tilted his head quizzically, “What advice was that?”

  “To get out, meet the people whose lives you’re going to rui… impact.”

  “You were going to say ruin.”

  “Well, that’s still up to you,” she said.

  “How about we leave business at the front door,” he suggested. “For the afternoon.”

  “Afternoon?” Charlotte said. She pointed behind him. The sky had turned a cotton candy pink as the sun made its way behind the jagged mountain peaks that surrounded the town. White twinkle lights flicked on and volunteers came around lighting the industrial-strength patio heaters. “How about we make that pact for the evening too?”

  He held up his beer. “Deal,” he said. “To an afternoon slash evening truce.” The unlikely assembly of Rapidians and Caldwell executives raised their glasses and drank.

  Nicole and Serena were talking animatedly beside him while Thomas and Barry talked to Freddie. Baxter couldn’t hear what they were saying, but every few minutes the three of them would break out in raucous laughter. He knew that crony laughter. Whatever Freddie had said, it was definitely raunchy. That left him and Charlotte.

  “Are you having a good time in Chance Rapids?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he smiled. “We’ve just been working.”

  She nodded. “I know what that’s like.”

  The conversation felt forced and stilted, but with business off the table, he didn’t know what to talk about.

  “Where did you learn how to throw an ax?” She leaned her elbows on the table and held her plastic cup with both hands.

  “I spent a bit of time in the woods in another life,” he replied. “Not too far from here actually.”

  “Really? Where?”

  “Not too many people know this about me, but I worked as a tree planter when I was young.”

  “You are young.” She pointed at him and then sipped her beer.

  “I mean, I was a kid, really,” Baxter chuckled. “At the camp, we were just a bunch of frustrated young men. We made up all kinds of games to keep us occupied in our downtime. One of them was ax-throwing, although none were as big as that one today.”

  “Are you a skier, Mr. Caldwell?” Charlotte planted her elbow on the table and rested her face against her fist.

  While the questions were friendly, Baxter felt like he was in an interrogation. “I am,” he replied. “Why?”

  “Just curious,” she shrugged. “Have you been on the mountain yet?”

  “No,” Baxter replied. “As I said, we’ve just been working. Are the conditions any good?”

  “Actually, for early season, they’re the best I’ve seen in years. You should go.”

  He finished his beer in one sip and set down the empty cup on the table. She raised her eyebrows at him. “What? These are small,” he said. Charlotte refilled his cup and then topped up her own. “They should really be using something reusable,” he stated.

  “You’re not the first person to say that.” Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him momentarily and then shook her head slightly. “You’re the heli-skiing type, aren’t you?”

  It sounded like an insult. “I’ve been.” He kept his answer short. “How about you?”

  “Oh, I love heli-skiing,” Charlotte said. “I try to go a few times a year.”

  “So, you’re the heli-skiing type,” he volleyed back.

  “I suppose I am.” She shrugged. “Been to any good lodges lately?”

  He had been to plenty, but none could match the experience he’d had at FKT Heli-skiing. “They all start to feel the same after a while. You?” he asked. The small talk was perfunctory and wasn’t getting any easier. He really wanted to ask where her friend Lauren had gone. They clearly knew each other, and Baxter had spent the afternoon wondering how close they were and if they talked about the development.

  “I like FKT,” Charlotte replied. “Have you been to that one?”

  The interrogation continued. “Not for a long time,” he said. The small talk was painful. He wished that they could just talk about business. Could it be that she was having a hard time finding common ground outside of real estate as well?

  Charlotte looked past Baxter’s shoulder then stood up and waved. Baxter craned his head around to see who was on the receiving end. Logan Brush was easy to spot, but that wasn’t where his eyes were drawn, it was to the woman on his arm – Lauren.

  * * *

  Charlotte stood up as they approached the table. Lauren widened her eyes and gave her sister her best silent ‘what the fuck’ look.

  “Hi, baby,” Charlotte said. She gave Logan a hug and then stepped back. She gestured to Baxter, “Logan, this is Baxter Caldwell.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Baxter stood up to shake Logan’s hand.

  Charlotte continued, “And I believe you’ve met Lauren Bunkman,”

  “Hello, Miss Bunkman.” Baxter reached out his hand. Lauren was thankful for the protection of her gloves and didn’t remove them to shake his hand. She hoped the leather of his would dampen the tremble in her hands but could feel it as they shook. Or, was it his hands that were shaking?

  “Hello,” Lauren said.

  Charlotte introduced Logan to the rest of the Caldwell executives at the table. After the introductions, each group went back to their own conversations, leaving Lauren, Charlotte, Logan, and Baxter at the end of the table closest to the fire pit.

  Lauren pressed her palms together and held her hands underneath the table to try to quell the trembling. While they were there, she balled one up into a fist and banged it against her sister’s leg. Charlotte winced and gave Lauren an almost imperceptible shrug.

  “Great throwing today.” Logan looked at Baxter. You almost had all three.”

  “There should’ve been a warmup,” Baxter laughed. “I’m just glad there wasn’t anything breakable behind the target.”

  Logan was about to reply when a voice interrupted their conversation. “Are you Caldwell?” Lauren recognized the rough-looking man as the mechanic from the gas station. Gary was known to be hot-headed. His nose looked like it had been broken five times because it had been – in bar fights.

  Lauren watched as Baxter turned and stood up to meet Gary. “I am,” he said. Baxter stood taller than Gary by at least five inches, but the wobbling local had at least one hundred pounds on him.

  Everyone at the table stopped mid-conversation and stared at the showdown.

  “Thanks for the beer man,” Gary broke into a huge gap-toothed grin and wrapped one arm around Baxter, squeezing him tightly. “That was a sholid move,” he slurred.

  “What’s going on?” Lauren whispered to Charlotte.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “And,” she dropped her voice even lower. “I didn’t invite him to sit here. Serena knows his assistant.”

  The band finished off a perfect version of Karma Chameleon and a silence fell over the crowd. Gary still had his arm wrapped around Baxter. “Everyone,” he shouted, taking advantage of the break in the music. “This is Baxter Caldwell. THE Baxter Caldwell who paid for all the beer we’re drinking.” The crowd murmured and then broke into a roaring cheer.

  “What?” Lauren hissed. “When did this happen?”

  “Beats me,” Charlotte said. “But the man is now a local hero.”

  “Great,” Lauren said. “Win over the people by getting them drunk.”

  “It’s a pretty smart move,” Charlotte said.

  “Maybe I underestimated him,” Lauren said. She watched as people lined up to thank Baxter for the free beer, and he worked the crowd like a celebrity.

  “Looks like the bachelor,” Charlotte leaned in and whispered. The line to meet Baxter consisted of mostly women, smiling and giggling, waiting for their chance to meet the infamous, but single and fabulously rich developer.

  Lauren turned away from the spectacle. “Ugh,” she muttered but sneaked another look over her shoulder at the giggle parade. Her stomach clenched when she saw Carrie’s mascara caked eyelashes glare at her over Baxter’s shoulder. Jealousy was an emotion Lauren had only previously felt for competitive classmates at law school, today the churning in her gut was over a man.

  The band started playing again, and the atmosphere inside the beer garden grew louder and rowdier as the night went on. Lauren tried not to turn around again, but when she stole another glance, Carrie was still lurking around Baxter.

  Charlotte leaned in, “Are you going to let that happen?”

  Charlotte had a long-standing feud with Carrie’s older sister, Stacy and so did Serena.

  “He’s a big boy,” Lauren said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Maybe that’s what he deserves,” she whispered.

  “I don’t think that anyone deserves that.” Charlotte’s eyes were following the action over Lauren’s shoulder. “She’s wasted and he’s too polite to tell her to take a hike.”

  Carrie was hanging off of Baxter’s shoulder, a cigarette smoldering in her free hand. Lauren could see Baxter leaning away as Carrie scream-whispered in his ear.

  “I have to rescue him,” she said. She pivoted on her ass and pulled her boots out from under the picnic table. She strode over and tapped Baxter on his free shoulder. He turned and when their eyes met, he smiled.

  “Mr. Caldwell, I have a few business questions for you.” She put on a very serious tone.

  “Can’t you see he’s busy,” Carrie said.

  “They’re urgent,” Lauren said.

  “Well, if that’s the case,” Baxter said, sidestepping and extricating himself from Carrie’s half nelson. “Ladies,” he tipped his hat to his group of bleached blond fans.

  “Aw,” one of Carrie’s sidekicks moaned. If Carrie could’ve shot fire from her eyes, Lauren would’ve been charred like Texas barbecue. “I’ll see you later,” Carrie winked and playfully patted Baxter.

  “Thank you,” he whispered as Lauren led him back to the picnic table.

  “For what?” She smiled.

  “Oh, did you actually have some important business questions?” He seemed surprised.

  “I do,” Lauren said. “But they can wait for Monday.”

  “A-ha, you were rescuing me then?”

  Lauren sat down at the table, but instead of taking his former seat across the table, Baxter slid in beside her. Charlotte and Logan had disappeared into the crowd. “Did you need it?” she asked. As he settled in, her knee knocked against his. She inhaled sharply and jerked it away.

  “I’ve never experienced anything like that before,” Baxter said. “Those women are aggressive.”

  In all of Lauren’s research, there had been very few photos of Baxter with girlfriends. Somehow, she doubted he’d ever been approached by a group of trailer trash townies sporting supermodel confidence.

  “There aren’t a lot of single men in town,” Lauren explained. “You’re like a steak that was just tossed to a pack of starving...” she stopped before she finished the sentence.

  Baxter’s eyes sparkled, he leaned in close to her. “Rabid dogs.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” Lauren took a sip of her beer. As much as she disliked Carrie, she hated falling into the small-town habit of talking behind someone’s back.

  “Which part?” Baxter somehow managed to take a sip of his beer through a smile. “The steak or the dogs? If I didn’t know any better, I think that you just paid me a compliment.”

  Was he flirting with her?

  “I thought that carrion or vultures was too harsh,” she quipped and couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her lips.

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “Too harsh for them…” She nodded to the group of women who were circling just out of earshot.

  “Ouch, I’m carrion?” He clutched his chest. “Now, there’s the vicious lawyer I know.”

  For someone who had just been called roadkill, Baxter was taking it quite well. “To carrion, and the…” he pursed his lips and looked up, “What do you call the person who picks up roadkill?”

  “I don’t know,” Lauren laughed.

  “To the road scraper.” He held up his cup in salute. Lauren laughed and shook her head as she reluctantly tapped hers to his.

  “I could easily throw you back,” she said.

  “You wouldn’t,” he mock gasped. “I barely made it out alive.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” she laughed.

  “You’re right, I guess I barely made it out in one piece then.”

  “Much better,” Lauren said. She hadn’t met his eyes since they sat down. “Nice move, by the way.” This time she looked directly at him.

  “What move?” he said.

  Lauren held up her cup of beer. “Buying off the town with beer.”

  He took off his hat. “It was a show of goodwill, I don’t think that a few free beers are going to change anyone’s mind about the development.”

  And there it was. The reason that they shouldn’t even be sitting together. “You might be surprised.”

  “Listen, Lauren. Charlotte and I have a deal. One that I’d like to extend to you.” He paused. “I mean, Miss Bunkman.”

  Lauren turned to face Baxter head-on. “A deal?” Her damn sister. Charlotte swore that she was going to stay away from the Caldwell fiasco.

  “Easy, tiger,” Baxter held up his hands. “It’s nothing serious. We made a deal that we aren’t going to talk about business today.”

  Lauren exhaled. “Sorry about that. I’ve been a bit on edge lately.”

  “All the more reason to take a break and make friends with the enemy – for the day.” When he smiled, Lauren’s stomach flip-flopped. He was easily the best-looking man Lauren had ever seen; Baxter Caldwell made Brad Pitt look ordinary.