Teresa Southwick - Something's Gotta Give

“Harsh consequences given the circumstances.”

“Guess you shouldn’t have given up your right to an attorney. And remaining silent wouldn’t have done you any harm, either.”

This wasn’t the first time he should have kept his mouth shut. “I want to change my plea.”

“Can’t. It’s already entered into the record.”

Sam was seething. “I’m being scammed and we both know it.”

“You say scam, I say justice. Since I’m the one wearing the black robe, my say goes.” The judge glared as he pointed. “And before you open your mouth again, I’m warning you. One more outburst and you’ve got sixty days.”

Sam clenched his jaw.

The irony was he hadn’t intended to stop in this town, but the highway billboard had caught his attention. Charity City, The Town That Lives Up To Its Name. Then he’d remembered that his friend Hayden Blackthorn had moved here to open a branch office for his company, Blackthorn Investigations.

That’s when Sam had decided to pull into the Lone Star Bar and Grill in order to look up his old friend. Charity might begin at home but he was a long way from there.

“I think your parents bought you a man last night.”

“No way, Abby.”

“Yes, way.”

Jamie Gibson had thought that eating lunch in her office would be less stressful than hassling a crowded restaurant. Now she wasn’t so sure. Abby Walsh had become her friend after she’d handled her divorce from a husband as flaky as a French pastry. The guy had gone to Hollywood to audition for a reality show and never came back. More proof, as if Jamie needed any, that men couldn’t be counted on.

“My parents bought a man?” She shifted the phone to her other ear as she unwrapped her sandwich. That revelation cranked up her stress level by a couple notches.

“Yeah. You weren’t at the auction last night to keep them in line,” Abby said.

“I had briefs to write.”

“Riddle me this—if you have to work overtime to write them, why are they called briefs?”

“Named by a man,” they both said together.

“I’d much rather have spent the evening with you and Molly,” Jamie added, taking a sip from her drink.

Her gaze slid to the framed picture on her desk of herself with her two friends—brown-haired, blue-eyed Abby Walsh and redheaded Molly Preston. She’d hated missing her evening with them. And apparently it wouldn’t have hurt to keep an eye on her folks. “What happened? They bought a man?”

“First things first. I got the ex-army ranger.”

Jamie frowned. “The one who donated the weekend campout you wanted?” She was dying to take a bite of her sandwich but didn’t want to chew in her friend’s ear.

“That’s the one. Kimmie is determined to get her Bluebonnets outdoor badges, and since I don’t know a tent pole from a fishing rod, Riley Dixon is our man. He donated the weekend for sale because the foundation gave him the start-up capital for his security business.”

“Good for him.” Jamie knew that Abby’s daughter would be thrilled with the campout. “Now what about my folks?” she prompted.

“Yeah. I’m getting to that. But first I have to tell you about Molly.”

“Okay. But can you move it along. You’re killing me here, and I’ve got to eat my lunch. This is like waiting for the other shoe to fall.”

“If you’ll stop interrupting, I’ll tell you everything.” She took a breath. “Molly made me bid on Des O’Donnell.”

“Didn’t Des take over the family construction company after his father passed away?”

“Yes. And he donated a home repair for auction because his company got the contract to do the new wing at the preschool where Molly teaches.”

“And she made you do the bidding?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah. I have no idea why she was being so secretive, but everyone thinks I bought two men. Mayor Wentworth had some fun with that.”

“I bet he did. So are you finished toying with me yet? What did my parents do?”

“One of the guys for sale was an ex-LAPD detective and they bought him.”

Jamie groaned, suddenly losing all interest in her food. “Probably not for a busboy at the restaurant.”

“I don’t think so. Your folks give new meaning to the words overprotective,” Abby agreed. “I’m sure they’d have followed you and Stu to New York if they could have found a way.”

Anger and pain sliced through Jamie along with memories of that time. Stu had urged her to go with him to the big city, and, starry-eyed and in love, she’d agreed. Her parents had been deeply disappointed that she’d be so far away, not to mention disapproving of the guy she’d be so far away with. They’d been right, as it turned out. Shortly after the move, Stu had walked out on her.

“I almost wish they had come with us,” Jamie said. “But I’m sure the phone company is grateful they stayed in Charity City and racked up a gazillion long-distance minutes.”

She worked at making light of it, but the pain of that time—not just Stu’s abandonment, but what happened after—she’d never get over it. And she couldn’t talk about it with the people who mattered most. All anyone knew was that he’d broken it off. Her parents worried about her too much, and she’d learned to keep things from them—ironically, to protect them. She’d never tell them what she’d gone through alone.

And now it was in the past. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and the loss she’d suffered had made her strong enough to face almost anything.

“Yeah,” Abby said. “Stu was a jerk.”

If you only knew how much, Jamie thought. “He probably still is. But I do wish my parents would learn to let go.”

“So, I guess you didn’t know about their Buy-a-Guy purchase?”

“You guess right.” She sighed and wrapped up the untouched sandwich. “When I got back to the office after court this morning, there was a message from my mom. That’s probably why she called.”

“There’s always a chance it has nothing to do with you.”

Jamie laughed. “Very funny. There’s a better chance that I could flap my arms and fly to the moon.”

“Yeah. Well. At least forewarned is forearmed.”

“Always looking for the silver lining, huh, Ab?”

“What can I say? I’m a glass-is-half-full kind of gal.”

“Thanks for the heads-up. Give Kimmie a kiss for me.”

“Will do. Take care. Good luck. Bye.”

After hanging up, Jamie looked at the message slip again. Forewarned is forearmed, she thought. She couldn’t return the call now because their restaurant was always busy at lunchtime, and besides, it was time for her to get back to work. But they would definitely talk after the dinner rush, and Jamie would make a case for discouraging the folks from whatever interfering they had planned.

“You always work this late?” The voice was gravel rough and breathtakingly masculine.

Heart pounding, Jamie swiveled her chair away from her computer monitor and faced the man in the doorway. She hadn’t been expecting anyone and the interruption startled her. He was big, probably just over six feet. His brown hair was cut short, and his eyes were the most unusual pale shade of blue. The black T-shirt he wore tucked into worn jeans was molded to an impressive set of muscles on his upper chest and arms. And he was magazine-cover handsome. Stu had been handsome, too. Probably still was, she thought irritably.

“Office hours are over,” she said. “I can see if there’s an appointment available tomorrow…”

One very broad shoulder lifted lazily. “That’s not why I’m here.”

He stirred then, every movement graceful and sort of predatory as he strolled closer. Jamie stood, for all the good it would do her. If he meant her harm, the best she could do with her own five foot two, 105 pounds, would be to put up token resistance. Make too big a mess to cover up. Scratch him. Get DNA under her fingernails. And…and nothing. She’d been watching too much Law and Order on TV, she realized.