Courting Trouble (9 page)

Cade shrugged. “No, of course not.”

“Look,” Wayne continued quietly and his gaze never left Cade’s face, “he’s probably got the McGraths on the brain what with Savannah getting arrested, and Tulsa coming back, and you accepting that case—”

“I didn’t
accept
the case.” Cade’s tone hardened. When would people understand there was no accepting, he’d been compelled, no, ordered, to take the case by Judge Wilder. “I didn’t have a choice—when you give forty hours of pro-bono work to the legal clinic, you get the damn case you get.”

“Right, no choice.” Wayne cocked an eyebrow and returned to cutting his meat. “Maybe Hudd’s fixated. I mean, that whole damn mess nearly ruined his career and your life.”

Cade pulled a napkin from the dispenser. A damn mess. A tragedy. A night no one wanted to remember and a night that no one could seem to forget.

Cade stirred another packet of sugar into his coffee and noticed Wayne look past him toward the front door. A grin—the type of grin that usually spelled trouble for Cade—spread across Wayne’s face. The hair on Cade’s neck prickled. He knew. Cade knew before Wayne said her name, Cade knew before he heard her voice, Cade knew because a jolt of energy like a bolt through ion-charged air socked him on the back of the shoulders.

“Well, Tulsa McGrath! Aren’t you the best sight a man could see this early in the morning?” Wayne stood and encased Tulsa in a bear of a hug.

The sight of her shook Cade. Her long, curly dark hair, barely tamed, flowed over the collar of her black leather jacket. She wore jeans and high-heeled boots and looked every bit the Los Angeleno on a mountain vacation. Her eyes drifted to Cade’s. Gone was the anger from the night before. The jut of her chin, the set of her jaw, all of it smoothed out and softened. The energy rolling from her wasn’t nearly as charged; it was softer, nearly sweet. And those lips. Cade’s gaze hovered on Tulsa’s full mouth, the mouth he’d tasted only hours before. He fought the urge to run his hand up her thigh, clasp her fingertips, and pull her down into the seat beside him.

“Morning, Tulsa,” Cade said.

“Cade.” Her voice was smooth.

“Sit down,” Wayne said. “I mean, if you don’t mind this dumbass sitting across from you.”

Tulsa slipped into Wayne’s side of the booth and Wayne settled beside her.

“Now I’d ask you all kinds of questions about why you’re home and how long you’re stayin’, but I’m afraid I’ve got all those answers. So how ‘bout I just tell you I’m happy you’re here, wish the circumstances were different, but I know you’ll be good for Savannah and Ash.”

Tulsa tilted her head toward Wayne. “Thanks,” she said and turned her gaze to Cade. “Looks like someone got a piece of you before I did.”

Cade scrubbed his hand across his jaw. “I have my big brother to thank for that.” Cade guessed Tulsa would have laid him out in that boxing ring if she’d gotten the chance—but she hadn’t, instead he’d kissed her.

“We box.” Wayne nodded toward Cade. “Really, I box and Cade lets me hit him.” Tulsa cocked her eyebrow and the left side of her mouth lifted in a half smile. A shiver rushed up Cade’s spine.

“Well, you
are
bigger,” Tulsa said.

“And don’t forget better-looking,” Wayne added.

“How could I ever forget that?” Tulsa asked and another smooth smile was directed at Wayne. The type of smile that Cade might nearly give up a year’s salary to see directed toward him and not his older brother.

Rose Beasely hustled to the table and filled Tulsa’s coffee cup. Once past the obligatory greetings and hellos and the update of Tulsa’s life in LA, Rose backtracked to the kitchen with Tulsa’s order in hand.

“Seems you’re a little local celebrity,” Wayne said. “Small-town girl done good.”

Tulsa poured cream into her coffee. Her expression remained neutral. “You can’t escape the past,” she said. “Best you can do is just come to terms with it.

Cade creased his brow. Was that how she really felt? Her words were a big change of tune from the bass drum she’d beaten last night. Or from the girl that broke his heart based on rumors that had run rampant in Powder Springs.

“Hey.” Tulsa’s soft tone extended to Cade. “I need to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Cade looked up from examining the blackness of his coffee. He met Tulsa’s gaze and adrenaline shot through him. Her eyes were green with flecks of amber. He’d gotten lost in those eyes. Cade raised his coffee cup to his lips. He couldn’t afford to get lost in them now.

“You called Miller’s Garage for me yesterday and had the rental towed.”

He had, in fact, done that. After Savannah shot at him.

“Thought you might be busy with family since you haven’t been back in a while.”

“Thank you,” Tulsa said. Her voice was soft. No bits of steel. No dark looks. An openness he remembered from when they were young. Perhaps last night… That kiss. That kiss contained more than just lust. More than just memories and pent-up emotions. That kiss couldn’t have tamed her, but she too felt the emotion that coursed between them.

The silence weighed heavy after her thanks. He and Tulsa locked eyes. What could they say? What was there to say? The past remained wedged between them. And the present? Cade was assigned to try to change Ash’s custody status. There was no winning for him, regardless of the custody case’s outcome.

Wayne cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Who is that? You have a new client today?” His steely cop face pushed aside his playful smile. Wayne bobbed his head and tried to get a clear view around the letters painted on the Wooden Nickel’s front window. “I don’t recognize the truck.”

Cade’s gaze trailed Wayne’s and landed on a ten-year-old pickup with Alaska license plates that slid into a spot in front of Cade’s office. He stiffened. The time was closing in on nine am and his client was early for their ten am appointment. Cade twirled a sugar packet end over end as his eyes darted from Bobby Hopkins to Tulsa, sitting across the table.

Jaw locked, eyes fixed, the only signal of the anger that barrel rolled through her belly was her right eyebrow. Barely lifted—only someone who knew Tulsa like Cade knew Tulsa would recognize that tiny flick—the twitch of a muscle indicated Tulsa kept a tight lid on strong emotion.

“You are such a cop,” Cade said and draped his arm over the top of the booth in a pitiful attempt at nonchalance.

“Mr. Bobby Hopkins,” Wayne said, almost speaking to himself. Wayne pulled a small spiral notebook from his uniform front pocket. “Tulsa, you have a spare pen?”

She broke her transfixed gaze and pulled open her purse. In a swift motion she plucked a ball-point from the side pocket and handed it to Wayne. Her gaze landed on Cade and she needn’t utter a sound. Disappointment. Confusion. Sadness. Emotions all packed in her amber-flecked eyes.

Cade’s heart tumbled in his chest. The same shame you felt when you disappointed your best friend. He pulled his gaze from Tulsa.

“I’m not seeing this,” Cade grumbled.

“No, you are not.” Wayne rubbernecked to get a better look at the license plate.

Rose set down Tulsa’s breakfast, filled their coffees, and huffed off back to her counter. Wayne stretched his neck, still trying to see the license plate.

“That a one or a seven?”

“I will not help you violate my client’s constitutional rights,” Cade said.

“It’s a seven,” Tulsa offered and slathered butter across her pancakes. Her eyes flitted up through her lashes. “Not my client,” she said softly yet sternly.

“And what right would that be?” Wayne scribbled the plate number onto a piece of paper. “The right to be a scumbag?”

“Illegal search and seizure,” Cade said.

“I’ve not searched and I’ve not seized,” Wayne said. “I’m just taking some notes.”

“Probable cause?” Cade asked.

“Probably Bobby Hopkins, like the rest of his family, can’t manage to keep himself out of trouble,” Wayne said.

A tiny smile trickled across Tulsa’s lips with Wayne’s assessment.

Wayne pocketed his spiral notebook and handed Tulsa her pen. He took one final gulp of coffee and stood to leave.

Cade looked up at Wayne. “Once you’re finished playing Jason Bourne, would you stop by the house? Dad isn’t coming into the office and Lottie has the day off.”

“Hudd still practices?” Tulsa’s eyes registered surprise.

“Hudd? You want
me
to stop and see Hudd?” Wayne pursed his lips and placed both hands on his hips.

“I thought he had a stroke?” Tulsa asked.

“He did,” Wayne said.

“Practicing might be stretching the term,” Cade said and wiped his napkin across his mouth.

“He tortures Cade,” Wayne offered. “Daily.”

“Just knock on the front door and see if he yells at you,” Cade said. “Around lunch.”

“For you, brother, I’ll even take him a burger and fries.” Wayne backed away from the table.

“You must feel real bad about the bruise,” Cade said.

“Well, I know for a fact that as far as you’re concerned, there’s definitely more bruises than the ones I can see.”

Cade winced with his brother’s comment.

“See you later.” Wayne winked. “I got your breakfast, Tulsa. But you, brother? You’re on your own.” He lumbered toward the cash register to pay for breakfast.

“Sounds as though your father has retained his charm.”

“Charm? That isn’t the word I’d use to describe Dad.” Cade clamped his hands around his coffee cup. Discussing his dad with Tulsa was a landmine of a topic.

“He always loved to work.” Tulsa slid another bite of pancake into her mouth. She chewed and looked out the window in the direction of his office.

“Each side needs an attorney,” Tulsa finally said, her voice quiet, resigned.

“That’s a much different line than I heard last night.”

With his mention of last night the tiniest flush of pink graced Tulsa’s ivory cheeks. She licked her lips and didn’t look up from cutting another bite of her breakfast. She’d felt it too, those unresolved feelings, all that sexual energy that still simmered between them. Maybe she even harbored a handful of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens in her brain.

“I didn’t take the case,” Cade said. “It was assigned by the judge.”

Tulsa rubbed her napkin over her lips, refolded it, and set it on the table next to her plate. “The fact that the case was assigned doesn’t excuse the abject stupidity of not realizing Ash Hopkins is in fact my niece, Ash McGrath.”

Ouch. Maybe he deserved that zinger. He’d take it. He’d already kicked himself over that mistake enough times to create a bruise on his own backside.

“Hudd fired our investigator,” Cade said. “I haven’t found a good one since.”

Rose took both their plates and Tulsa grasped her coffee cup between her hands. The silence was loud and weighted by all that went unsaid between them. Even if Cade wasn’t representing Bobby, there was still the pain of their shared past. A past that couldn’t be fixed, a past that couldn’t be changed, a past that couldn’t be laid to rest, no matter how much either of them might want to.

Tulsa looked up from her coffee, her eyes soulful yet hard. A tenseness settled onto her shoulders as though she carried an unseen burden that could barely be lifted.

“I didn’t just run away.” Her gaze was steady, unflinching, tiny creases near the edges of her eyes. “I had to go.”

Cade wanted a bigger explanation. His heart wanted details. Tulsa rolled her lips inward as though she willed herself to stop speaking. The conversation was closed. The details Cade needed wouldn’t be shared today. Because as long as he was the man representing Bobby Hopkins, there wasn’t a place in Tulsa McGrath’s life for Cade.

Chapter Ten

The wall behind Judge Wilder’s desk held symbols of all that was dear to the man—each one shouting out a character trait to every attorney that entered his chambers and stood before his desk. The Marine Corp insignia hung directly behind his head. On either side were his framed diplomas—one from Annapolis and the other from University of Colorado School of Law. His personal life was relegated to his desktop. A picture of his wife and two children next to his phone. His robe hung on a coat stand in the corner along with a gray felt Stetson and a shearling coat. The hard-bitten ex-marine looked up from the
Powder Springs Gazette
when Cade entered the judge’s chambers.

“Looks like someone got a piece of you.” Judge Wilder gazed over the tops of his bifocals. “Hope you returned the favor.”

Cade ran his hand across the deep purple bruise on his jaw. “Just some friendly sparring.”

“That brother of yours must have a helluva right.” Judge Wilder brought the same personality to the bench that he would to storm a beach or take a hill. “So, what can I do for you?”

The Judge didn’t invite Cade to sit, so Cade stood, feet spread and firmly planted. He had one chance to make this request. Cade’s hands hung at his sides and he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists, willing away his emotions and demanding full use of the logical part of his brain.

“Sir.” He waited for the judge to set aside the box scores and look at him. He wanted eye-to-eye contact when he made his argument. “It’s about the Hopkins case.”

“Seems Savannah McGrath has gone and found herself an attorney.” Judge Wilder slowly folded his paper.

“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. I—”

“This wouldn’t be considered an
ex parte
conversation about the case, now would it, Mr. Montgomery? Because you know that’d be forbidden.”

“I think there may be a conflict of interest. You need to appoint a new attorney to represent Mr. Hopkins.”

“Really?” Judge Wilder crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Do tell.”

“Savannah retained Tulsa McGrath as her attorney and—”

Judge Wilder held up his hand. “Stop right there. I’ve got a few questions.” Judge Wilder’s eyebrow plucked upward and his head dropped to one side.

A rush of air seeped over Cade’s lips before he clamped closed his jaw. The muscles in his left shoulder tightened.

“Are you related to Mr. Hopkins?”

“No, sir,” Cade said.