She climbed the steps to the porch and Roth followed. He swung open the heavy wooden door. It led to a surprisingly spacious room. A vaulted ceiling rose comfortably above them and to one side was a stone fireplace with a log fire burning in it. There was an old, velvet sofa in front of the fire with a pile of blankets that Laurel realized covered the girl from the bar.

To the other side, a wall completely of glass looked out over a dramatic stretch of mountain, its cliffs falling precipitously to the valley floor.

“Is that an eagle?” Laurel said, pointing out the window.

“Yes it is,” Lance said from the staircase.

Laurel turned to him. She was beginning to regret failing to seal the deal the night before. She’d had him in the bag. It was a done deal. Then that girl showed up and pissed all over the parade.

Lance went to the stove and put a pot on for coffee. Laurel and Roth looked at each other, uncertain if he was going to draw another gun on them.

“Still black?” Lance said to Roth.

Roth nodded and Lance poured him a cup.

“And you?”

“Black with sugar,” Laurel said. “Or sweetener if you have it.”

He slid sugar and a spoon her way and poured himself a cup.

Then they sat and everyone stared at each other. Laurel couldn’t help notice the view of his chest through the loosely tied robe.

“It turned out beautifully,” Roth said, indicating the house.

Lance looked at him. “I ain’t ready for small talk with you.”

Laurel wondered what could have happened between them. There was clearly a lot more history there than what she’d been let in on.

She looked at Roth but his face remained blank.

“We came to talk business,” Roth said, nodding toward the pile of blankets on the sofa.

Lance shook his head. “I’m not a businessman anymore, Levi. You know that.”

“Come on, Lance. You were born to it.”

“People change.”

“Not you,” Roth said.

Both men spoke through gritted teeth. Laurel felt like she could have cut the tension with a knife.

“Is he still flossing his teeth during meetings?” Lance said.

She nodded.

“I hear there was a little kerfuffle last night,” Roth said, changing the subject.

“Kerfuffle,” Lance said. “I suppose you could call it that.”

“Three gunshots,” Roth said.

Lance held out his hands like he’d been caught in the cookie jar. “You got me, Roth. Unpredictable as ever.”

Laurel watched Roth. He shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t control what Lance said in front of her and it was making him nervous.

“It appears that way,” Roth said.

“Which begs the question,” Lance said. “If I haven’t changed, and I can assure you, Levi, I haven’t, then what are you doing here?”