Clear as Glass

were out here.” With a casual flick of his hand, he gestured to the path of bent grass behind him. “When I carried out the trash from the studio, I saw footprints leading into the meadow. I had to find out who was on my property this early in the morning.”
She shrugged. “Just me. Didn’t you see my car in the parking lot?”
“I figured you were inside the factory, not out here.” He gave her dew-soaked jeans a visual examination. “How many whistle pigs did you find?”
“Two very uncooperative ones. They didn’t like being photographed.”
“Don’t blame them.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s eight fifteen. How long have you been here?”
“Since seven. I wanted to watch the sun rise.” The brick walls of the factory glowed a rich rust color in the morning sun. “Oh, wow. Look at how the light is hitting your building. I’d better capture the image before the light shifts.”
With quick moves, she opened her tripod and set her camera on top.
“Are you taking pictures for the website?”
He didn’t sound too happy. She gave him a reassuring grin. “The ones of the factory will be good promotional images.” She looked through the viewfinder, adjusted the settings, and depressed the shutter. “The pictures of the meadow are just for fun.”
“You consultants have a weird concept of fun.” With a shake of his head, he stepped away. “We glassblowers need to get back to the factory.”
“Wait a minute, Mitch.” Jaye pointed to a distant mountain bathed in hues of red and gold. “Is there a way to reach that peak?”
“Yes.” He smoothed a palm down his flat abdomen and hitched his hands on his hips.
Jaye let out an exasperated sigh. “How do I get there?”
“Turn right out of our parking lot and go five miles. There’s a parking lot at the base of the mountain. You’ll have to hike to the top. Takes six hours…if you’re in shape.” He squinted at the peak. “Are you going now?”
“Nope. I need to put on dry clothes and get to work.” She snapped the lens cap on her camera, folded the tripod, and resumed walking. Her sneakers were so waterlogged they squeaked like two mice having a conversation. “My new boss gave me very specific instructions, and I intend to stick by them.”
Mitch’s head turned as she passed by. “What instructions?”
“He said, ‘Don’t screw up my life.’ Poetic, huh? I’m embroidering the sentiment on a pillow.”
“You should. Those are words to live by.” His boots thumped behind her. “Your boss sounds brilliant.”
She shrugged. “Don’t catch him in the morning before he’s had coffee. Without a dose of caffeine, he’s likely to take off your head for something as simple as walking through the meadow.”
“Give me a break. I thought you were a hunter. Sometimes, they wander into these fields if they’re not familiar with the trails. I don’t want anyone with a loaded gun mistaking one of my employees for a deer.”
Alarm buzzed up her spine. She stopped at the edge of the parking lot and cast a brief look over her shoulder at the meadow. “A hunter wouldn’t shoot me, right? I’d hardly feed a family of four.”
Mitch removed his cap and wiped an arm across his brow. “Do you joke about everything?”
“Only when I’m nervous.”
“Huh.” He tapped the brim of his cap against his thigh. “What’s bothering you? The hunters nearby—or me?”
“Both. The possibility I could’ve been shot is frightening. Pair that with a big guy who doesn’t want me around, and I’m a bit on edge.”
“Then we’re even.” He slid the baseball hat onto his head. “Most people don’t have the guts to stand up to me, but you do. I’m not used to spending time with someone who won’t be pushed around.”
The solemn line of his mouth broadened into a smile. Jaye couldn’t pull her gaze off the handsome sight. The quiet admiration in his unwavering gaze made her feel as though she was something special…just the way she was.
Two hours later, Jaye uncovered something that would screw up Mitch’s life. She printed the newspaper article, carried the damning evidence across the hall, and tapped on the open door. “Do you have a minute, Nick?”
“Sure, come in.”
Choosing not to sit across from him, she approached his desk. “When I design a website for a client, I do an extensive web search to see if there’s any bad publicity to combat. I found something odd this morning.” She handed Nick the article. “Someone was thinking of buying Blake Glassware a short while ago.”
Nick scanned the article. His good-natured expression faded. “Where did you find this?”
“In the online edition of a newspaper from Buffalo.” Jaye waited for Nick to offer an explanation, but he stared at the article as though the intensity of his gaze might vaporize the print. No matter if he burned the printout, the information would remain online for years. “We have a problem. If word gets out there’s a chance your factory is for sale, revenue might plummet. Customers shy away from companies with uncertain futures.”
“Damn.” Nick set aside the article and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Worry spiraled through her chest. “Are you thinking about selling the factory?”
“No, not really. Well, a little.” Nick pushed his hands through his hair. “A few months ago, I ran across an old friend when I was up in Erie. He started talking about how I’m sitting on a gold mine, with plenty of land to expand. After a few beers, he offered to buy the factory. I thought about selling, but I couldn’t bail out on Mitch. He lives and breathes this place.”
Jaye noticed Nick didn’t feel the same way. She tucked her skirt behind her thighs and sat across from him. “Does Mitch know your friend wanted to buy the factory?”
“I didn’t bother telling him because he’d never sell the business.” Nick’s cheeks puffed, blowing out a sigh. “There was no point mentioning the offer to my other partner.”
Jaye’s hand slipped off the hem