Delilah resisted the urge to write it down on her notepad. “That’s very cool,” she said and Laurel dipped her head.
“Thank you,” Laurel said and Xavier kissed her, whispering something into her ear as he rubbed her back.
“So, your boss is meeting with a guy who is giving everyone out here the stank-eye,” Delilah said mostly to herself. She tapped her pen on the paper and bit her lip. “I’d like to go by there when we get a chance.”
“Jake can take you by there one day,” Xavier said.
A thrill of anticipation ran through her. Jake. Right. She’d almost forgotten she would be spending her days with him for the foreseeable future. No, now wasn’t the time to get distracted. This Lyle guy could be the lead she needed. He sure looked disgusted at the sight of Xavier and his crew.
She gulped the last of her drink and shoved her chair back, pushing to her feet. “I’m going for a refill.”
“The waitress will be back soon,” Jake offered.
She waved him off. “I’d rather mingle with the natives.”
She made her way inside, her boots ringing out against the wood planks. The bar area was packed shoulder to shoulder with flannel shirts. Delilah smiled to herself at that because it was the exact clichéd scene she might have pictured from her loft apartment in the city. At least it didn’t smell like cow pies and almost everyone had a full row of teeth. Somewhere she couldn’t see was a jukebox playing country.
She wedged herself in between two dusty cowboy hats, and when the bartender caught her eye, she held up her empty glass. The older woman nodded and held up two fingers.
Perfect. Two minutes to eavesdrop.
The man on her left was chatting it up with another guy about beef prices and some new shipping tax. She shifted away. On her right, shots were lined up and the man’s face drooped as he stared into the clear liquid in the tiny glass. Bad day. Not what she was here for.
She angled once more and tuned into the foursome at the booth behind her. They spoke in low voices barely audible over the music and the roar of voices. Damn. She needed to get closer.
Hoping for nonchalance, she wandered toward the door and stopped between the exit and the side of their booth, scrolling idly through her phone. It would have worked better to text someone for a cover but you needed friends for that. She settled for deleting spammy emails.
“…Fucking DOT is a waste of time,” one of the men said. She stole a look out of the corner of her eye and recognized him as the one Laurel said had been to see her boss. “It’s time to take things to the next level.”
“That little fucker better take the bait,” said another. Lyle, she knew from the glimpse of flannel as she pretended to stare down at her phone.
“Damn straight, I plan on taking my payout down to Nancy’s Knockers,” said a third and they all snickered.
She twitched, resisting the urge to turn and get a good look at them all. What the hell did they have to do with DOT? Maybe they worked there? And who were they baiting?