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She took a chair opposite his desk, ready to get down to business. She couldn’t deny how good it felt to be productive again. It was funny, Sophie had never considered herself to be career obsessed—Penelope had always won that spot—but she hadn’t realized until it was all gone how much she enjoyed her job. It was such a part of her identity, seeping into the very fabric of her life from friends, to parties, to what to wear. She’d taken it for granted, but not anymore. She was grateful to have projects that fired up her brain cells.
“So, how’s your first day going?” Griffin asked with a smile.
“Great, everyone has been very friendly,” she said.
He raised a brow. “Even Mrs. Weller?” Naming his very scary secretary, who looked at Sophie as though she might be a Russian spy.
She laughed, tilting her head. “She’s a good gatekeeper.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” He gestured to his computer screen. “I’ve read over your report outlining ideas for the Fourth Festival and was suitably impressed. There wasn’t anything in your plans I have issue with, but the next step is to run them past the project team. What I am really interested in was your thoughts on the tourism proposal. You’re from Chicago, if we’re able to implement successfully, do you think overstressed workaholics would come out here to relax for the weekend?”
On their initial call Griffin had gone over his current objectives, but it had been clear the tourism trade was what he was most excited about, so Sophie had done some initial research. With the town right next to the river and not horribly far from Chicago, the revenue could help grow the town. It was a good plan.
She nodded. “Yes—”
There was a knock at the door, and Griffin called, “Yes?”
Mrs. Weller opened the door. “The chief is here.”
Sophie’s heart started a rapid, excited pounding. Oh no, she was in so much trouble.
Griffin pointed to the phone on his desk. “You know there’s an intercom.”
The secretary shushed him. “Nobody wants to talk face-to-face any more.”
Griffin expelled a long sigh. “Send him in.”
Sophie stifled her smile.
Griffin rubbed the bridge of his nose. “She was my teacher in grade school, and I was a hellion back in the day. She hasn’t quite forgiven me.” Griffin raised his head and stood, a wide, friendly smile on his face. “There he is. Sophie Kincaid, I’d like you to meet our chief deputy sheriff, Ryder Moore.”
She rose and turned to face him. The bite on her neck warmed and pulsed as a flush spread over her cheeks.
He held out a hand, a big, arrogant grin on his face as their palms slid together and electricity ran up her arm. “Sophie and I know each other, actually. We’re neighbors.”
Griffin laughed. “Of course, what was I thinking? I’d forgotten she rented the house next to you.” He smiled at Sophie. “I know you’ve only been in town a few days, so I wasn’t sure if you had a chance to meet.”
“We have.” Ryder’s voice sounded sly, cunning.
Sophie extracted her hand and willed the heat to cool. She cleared her throat. “It’s good to see you again, Ryder.”
His gaze dropped to her neck. “You too.”
Griffin glanced at the two of them and then offered a bright smile. “Since you’re well acquainted, I suppose we can skip the whole getting-to-know-you chitchat and get down to business.”
“Exactly,” Sophie said, refusing to look at Ryder.
Griffin gestured to a round table. “Let’s sit over there. I was about to ask Sophie her thoughts on expanding tourism as a potential avenue of revenue.”
They all sat down, and under the table, Sophie’s knee bumped Ryder’s.
For good measure, she shot him a death glare.
He smiled innocently. “And what were your thoughts, Sophie?”
She met his gray eyes, which danced with amusement. He thought he could throw her, and he wasn’t wrong, he could.
Only when it came to her job, she didn’t intend to let him.
