RaeAnne Thayne - Christmas In Snowflake Canyon

“I didn’t, er, necessarily mean you by that general statement.”

“I’m sure,” Dylan said coolly.

“Yes, well.” Her father cleared his throat and turned back to Genevieve. “I’m doing what I can to get you out of here. I’ve already been on the phone with the district attorney to see if we can work things out with his people before this goes any further. I’m quite outraged that no one called me first. That includes you, young lady. I realize you haven’t been in trouble with the law before but surely you know the first thing you should always do is call your attorney.”

“You’re not my attorney.” Her words came out small, and, as usual, her father didn’t pay her any mind.

He went on about his plan for extricating her from the mess as if she had said nothing.

“You’re not my attorney,” she said in a louder voice. “Andrew Caine is.”

Her father didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a close thing. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’ll represent you.”

“I thought attorneys weren’t supposed to represent family members.”

“That’s people in the medical profession, my dear,” he said indulgently, as if she were five years old. “Attorneys have no such stricture. If you would prefer, I can call one of my associates to represent you. Either way, we’ll have these ridiculous charges thrown out and pretend this never happened.”

She could just cave. It would be easy. Her father would take care of everything, as he had been doing all her life—as she had let him do, especially the past two years.

He couldn’t have it both ways, though. He couldn’t one moment tell her he was cutting her off financially to fend for herself and then still try to control the rest of her life.

“I have an attorney,” she said, a little more firmly. “Andrew Caine.”

Her father gave her a conciliatory smile that made her want to scream. “You’re overwrought, my dear. I’m sure this has been an upsetting evening for you. You’re not thinking clearly. Mr. Caine is a fine attorney, but how would it look if you had someone else represent you?”

As if she had finally found a little backbone?

She was spared from having to answer by the arrival of the police chief of Hope’s Crossing, Riley McKnight.

William spotted him at the same time. “Finally!” he exclaimed and headed out to apprehend the police chief, leaving her and Dylan alone.

An awkward silence seemed to settle around them like the cold snow falling outside. “Wow. Your dad...”

“Is incredibly obstinate. Either that or he has selective hearing loss,” she finished for him.

“I was going to say he’s concerned about you. But those work, too.”

She could feel her face heat. “He’s tired of cleaning up my messes. Can you tell?”

“Caught a hint or two. What kind of messes, Genevieve?”

Oddly, she didn’t mind his exaggerated French pronunciation of her name this time. It was actually kind of...sexy. “It’s a very long and boring story.” One she didn’t feel like rehashing right now. “Listen, I am sorry you were messed up in this whole thing. I had a bit too much to drink and I guess I went a little...crazy.”

“I would describe it as completely bat-shit, but that’s just me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” It wasn’t a completely unpleasant realization.

“I wish I’d thought to shoot some video of you punching that woman. I haven’t enjoyed anything that much in...a long time.”

She was glad, suddenly, that she’d given him something to find amusing.

“Thank you for trying to protect me.”

He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “I would say anytime but I’m afraid you might take me up on that,” he answered, just as Andrew Caine walked in.

“Take you up on what?”

“Nothing. Never mind. What the hell took you so long? Did you stop off for Thanksgiving leftovers at Pop’s on the way?”

Andrew Caine looked very much like she remembered Dylan looking before his accident. Gorgeous. Brown hair, blue eyes, chiseled features.

Tonight, Andrew’s short brown hair was rumpled a little on one side and she wondered if Dylan’s call had caught him in bed, or at least dozing on the couch while a basketball game played or something. His blue dress shirt was tailored and elegant but a little wrinkled, as if he had yanked it out of the laundry hamper at the last minute.

“Tell me why I never get calls about you during business hours. I ought to leave your ass in here overnight. Hell, I should leave you here all weekend. It would serve you right.”

“Guess it’s my turn for the annoying family lectures,” Dylan murmured in an aside to her.

A little laugh burbled out of her; she couldn’t help it, and he gazed at her mouth for a moment before jerking his gaze back to his brother.

“A bar fight at the Lizard. Really. Couldn’t you try for something a little more original?”

Dylan shrugged and aimed his thumb at Genevieve. “She started it.”

“Tell me you weren’t fighting with Genevieve Beaumont.” Andrew narrowed his gaze. “Pop is seriously going to kill you. And then Mayor Beaumont will scrape up what’s left of you and finish you off.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Annoyance flickered across his expression. “I haven’t sunk that low.”

“It was all my fault,” Genevieve said. “I...lost my head and your brother stepped in to try to calm the situation.”

“It obviously didn’t work.”

“Well, no,” she admitted.

“What’s this I hear about you scalping a county prosecutor and breaking her nose?”

She had actually physically attacked another human being. She flushed, hardly able to believe she had actually done that. She didn’t know how to respond. Fortunately, Dylan’s brother didn’t seem to require a response.

“Never mind,” he said. “I’m sure your father will fix things for you. Where is he?”

She gestured to the back of the police station. “He’s talking to Chief McKnight. But he’s not my attorney. You are.”

The man’s eyebrows rose just about to his hairline. “Since when?”

“Now. I want to hire you.” Of course, she didn’t have much money to pay him right now but she would figure something out.

“You really think your father will go for that?”

“I’m twenty-six years old. I make my own decisions.” Most of them had been poor the past few years but she decided not to mention that. “I would like to hire you to represent my interests. That’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”

He studied her for a long moment and then shook his head. “Sure. Far be it from me to turn away business, especially when it’s guaranteed to piss off William Beaumont. No offense.”

“None taken,” she assured him.

“I’m going to assume I’m entitled to some kind of referral bonus for steering new clientele your way,” Dylan said.

Her new attorney frowned at his brother. “You can assume you’re entitled to shut your pie hole and let me see if I can get you and your new friend here out of this mess.”

CHAPTER THREE

“THAT’S IT? We’re really free to go?”

An hour later, Jahn-Vi-Ev Beaumont looked at Andrew as if he had just rescued a busload of puppies from a burning building.

Dylan wasn’t quite sure why that made him want to punch something again.

“For now. Between your father and me, we were able to work the system a little to get you both out of here tonight. You’re still facing charges for felony assault. It’s a very serious accusation.”

“But at least I don’t have to spend the night in jail. I couldn’t have done that.” She shuddered. “I don’t even have any moisturizer in my purse!”

Dylan just refrained from rolling his eyes. He noticed Andrew was trying hard to avoid his gaze. “Maybe you should think of that next time before you start barroom fights,” his brother suggested mildly.