Maverick Vs. Maverick. Shirley Jump
sister, I have no doubt you’re going to make a great lawyer.” Lani swiped at a water ring on the bar, then leaned back against the shelf behind her. “I talked to Dad earlier and he’s proud as a peacock. I’m surprised he didn’t take out a billboard announcing the judge’s decision.”
Lindsay laughed. Their father, Ben, had been ready to burst at the seams from the day she told him she wanted to follow in his footsteps. “It’s a very small decision. The big case is yet to come. I have a few days until opening arguments.” She let out a breath. “I’m nervous as hell.”
“Why? You’re a great lawyer.”
“For one, I only passed the bar a few months ago. My experience is mainly in cases like whether George Lambert’s oak tree is encroaching on Lee Reynolds’s potato patch.” Because she was so new to her father’s firm, he generally shuffled the easy stuff over to Lindsay’s desk, as a way for her to get her feet wet. She’d argued ownership of a Pomeranian, defended a driver who took a left on red and settled the aforementioned potato patch/oak tree dispute.
“Which was a win for you,” Lani pointed out.
Lindsay scoffed. She’d become a lawyer because she wanted to make a difference in the town she loved. So far, she’d only made a difference for a Pomeranian and a garden. She was worried she wasn’t up to the challenge of battling for the Marshalls. But when they had come to her, worried and teary, she couldn’t say no. She might be inexperienced, but she had a fire for what was right burning in her belly. She couldn’t stand to see anyone get hurt because the Just Us Kids Day Care was negligent. “Score one for the potatoes. Seriously, though, the opposing counsel in this case is...good. Smart. And the owner of the day care center is just as smart. Plus, he’s handsome.”
Had she just said that out loud? Good Lord.
Lani arched a brow. “Handsome?”
“I meant attractive.” Oh, God, that wasn’t any better. Lindsay scrambled to come up with a way to describe Walker Jones that didn’t make it sound like she personally found him sexy. Because she didn’t. At all. Even if he had filled out his navy pin-striped suit like a model for Brooks Brothers. He was the enemy, and even handsome men could be irresponsible business owners. “In a distracting kind of way. He might...sway the judge.”
Lani chuckled. “Judge Andrews? Isn’t he like, a hundred?”
“Well, yeah, but...” Lindsay drained her wine and held her glass out to her sister. “Can I get a refill?”
“Is that your way of changing the subject?” Lani took the glass and topped it off.
“Yes. No.” She paused. She’d been disconcerted by meeting Walker Jones, and Lindsay didn’t get disconcerted easily. “Maybe.”
“Well, unfortunately, I don’t think you’re going to be able to do that,” Lani said as she slid the glass back to her sister.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’re going to ask me a million questions about this guy. Frankly, I’d like to forget all about Walker Jones until I have to see him in court next week.”
“I think it’s going to be impossible for you to do that.” Lani leaned across the bar and a tease lit her features. “Considering he just walked in. Or at least, a man who looks like a hot, sexy owner of a day care chain just walked in.”
Lindsay spun on her stool and nearly choked on her sip of wine. Walker Jones III had indeed just walked into the Ace in the Hole, still wearing his overcoat and suit from court, and looking like a man ready to take over enemy territory. “What is he doing here?”
“Probably getting a drink like the rest of Rust Creek Falls,” Lani said. “There’s not a lot of options in this town.”
“Why is he even still here? Why not stay in Kalispell, or better yet, why can’t he go back to his coffin?”
“Coffin?”
“Only vampires are that handsome and ruthless.”
Lani chuckled. She shifted to the center of the bar as Walker approached. “Welcome to the Ace in the Hole. What can I get you?”
“Woodford Reserve, on the rocks.” He leaned one elbow on the bar, then shifted to his right.
“We don’t have that,” Lani said. “What we do have is a whole lot of beer.”
Walker sighed. “Then your best craft beer.”
“Coming right up.”
Lindsay should have slipped off her stool and left before he noticed her, but she’d been so stunned at the sight of Walker in the Ace that she had stayed where she was, as if her butt had grown roots. Now she tried to take a casual sip of her wine, as if she didn’t even see him.
Except her heart was racing, and all she could see out of the corner of her eye was him. Six feet tall—her favorite height in a man, but who was noticing that—with dirty blond hair and blue eyes, Walker Jones had a way of commanding the space where he stood.
She needed to remember that his irresponsible ownership of the day care center was what had made Georgina and lots of other children ill. What if that had been the Stockton triplets? Those motherless newborns who’d needed a whole chain of volunteers to help care for them? The RSV outbreak could have had much more dire consequences—something that Walker might be trying to overlook but that she refused to ignore.
“Counselor,” he said with a little nod.
“Mr. Jones. Nice to see you again.” The conventional greeting rolled off her tongue before she could recall it. Some kind of masochistic automatic response. It wasn’t nice to see him again. Not one bit.
Lani smirked as she placed a beer in front of Walker. “Here you go. Want me to run a tab?”
“Thank you, and yes, please do. I think I’ll stay a bit.” He sent the last remark in Lindsay’s direction.
She still had a nearly full glass of wine, but no way was she going to sit at the bar next to him. Lindsay fished in her pocket and handed her sister some bills. “Thanks, Lani. I’ll see you around.”
As Lindsay went to leave, Walker placed a hand on her arm. A momentary touch, nothing more, but it seemed to sear her skin. “Don’t go because I’m here. Surely we can coexist in a bar full of people.” He looked around. “Or rather, a bar full of eleven people.”
“Are you always this exact?”
“Are you always this hard to make friends with?”
She scowled. He was making it seem like this was all her fault. “We don’t need to be friends. We’re on opposing sides.”
“In the courtroom. Outside of that, we can at least be civil, can’t we?”
“Well, of course we can be civil.” Damn it. Somehow he’d turned her whole argument around. Geesh. Maybe he should have been the lawyer.
“That’s all I’m asking. So stay.” He gestured toward her bar stool. “And pretend I don’t exist.”
“My pleasure.”
That made him laugh. He had a nice laugh, dark and rich like a great cup of coffee in the morning. “You are not what I expected, Ms. Dalton.”
“And you are not what I expected.” She fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “Frankly, I was expecting your father.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” He grinned. “I’ll try not to do that again.”
She almost said, “Oh, I wasn’t disappointed,” but caught herself. Good Lord, what was it with this man? Was it his eyes? The way they held her gaze and made her, for just a moment, feel like the most important person in the room? Was it the way he’d touched her, his muscled hand seeming to leave an indelible impression? Or was it the way he spoke, in that deep, confident voice, that a part of her imagined