Read Second Chances (Nugget Romance 3) for Free Online Page A

old man’s funeral.
    “I’m sorry to hear that.” Al reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small urine container, and nudged his head in the direction of the john. “Before I go, I’ll need a sample. And, Colin, leave the door open, please.”
     
    Harlee suspected that Desmond Hopper IV was too good to be true. And he was.
    In his online dating profile, he boasted of being rich, successful, and single. Unfortunately, he’d failed to mention that his business was in Chapter 11, there were two liens against his Pacific Heights Edwardian, and the bank was foreclosing on his wine country pied-à-terre. For all intents and purposes, Desmond was broke.
    And while Harlee’s client might be able to fall in love with a poor man, she sure as hell wasn’t looking for a married one.
    The jerk also had a wife.
    Apparently Mrs. Hopper was home—probably avoiding calls from collection agencies—while her douche-bag husband was trolling online dating sites.
    Desmond was definitely a no-go, Harlee told herself as she quickly finished filling out a background report and emailed it to Frances Guthrie. The woman had become DataDate’s best client.
    Frances would surely be disappointed, having had high hopes for this one. But Frances paid Harlee to leave no stone unturned, and that’s exactly what she’d done.
    She turned off the computer and went downstairs. Luckily, her propane was getting delivered today. It had only taken three days of badgering for the Reno company to finally get off its butt. And good old Brad had offered to pay for it, since he’d been the last to use the cabin and hadn’t gotten the tank refilled.
    In the meantime, she’d made do with Colin’s space heater, the fireplace, sponge baths, and a free shampoo from Darla. She’d also ordered two cords of firewood, which were coming tomorrow—just in time for her mother’s weekend visit.
    Things were shaping up at DataDate central. She’d spent the morning cleaning the cabin until it shined and had even gotten two new clients. To celebrate, she and Darla were having lunch at the Ponderosa. On her way out, she grabbed a coat, hat, and gloves. The temperature had dropped enough that Harlee wouldn’t be surprised to see snow.
     
    Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the square, found a place to park, and made her way inside the Western-style saloon and restaurant. The place had been completely made over since the last time she’d been there. Lots of red pleather banquettes, dark paneled walls, and Victorian light sconces. Kitschy, but fun.
    Darla sat in a booth in the back of the dining room and waved her over. “Hey.”
    “Hi.” Harlee air-kissed her, hung her coat and hat on the wall rack, and grabbed the other bench. “It is so cold.”
    “Yet look how cute you look.”
    Okay, maybe the Kate Spade dress and the four-hundred-dollar boots were a little overkill for Nugget, not to mention that the weather called for down and fleece. But she didn’t want to look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man at her first ladies’ lunch.
    “You too,” she told Darla, who had ditched the hairpiece in exchange for clip-on hair extensions. Magenta.
    “See that guy over there, sitting at the bar?” Harlee whispered in Darla’s ear. “He keeps staring at you.”
    “I see three guys sitting at the bar,” Darla said.
    Harlee thought two of them were gorgeous. But it was the third—a cop with big ears—who was doing all the goggling. She nudged her chin at the uniform. “Him. What do you think?”
    “Why?” Darla asked.
    “He seems interested.”
    “Well, he’s not.”
    “How do you know? Do you know him?” Harlee asked, because it was obvious that she did.
    “His name’s Wyatt and he’s an asswipe. Although I’m pretty sure he’s a single asswipe, just in case you’re interested for yourself.”
    “Why would I be interested in a guy who’s clearly interested in you?”
    “Because I don’t want him,” Darla said adamantly—too