Chapter 3
Loch
“Evening, Mr. Westcott.” The door hasn’t even closed behind me. Our building’s nighttime security guard monitoring the lobby desk always beats me to the greeting.
“Evening, Joe.” I ordered food as soon as I left the hospital. Picking up the bag from reception, I head for the elevators.
“Another late night?”
Turning back, I manage a half grin. “You’re stuck with me again.”
“I’ll be here all night.”
“I hope I’m not.”
He chuckles. I step into an elevator and punch the button for the twenty-third floor. It’s not a big office, but with four attorneys, two litigating specialists along with assistants, paralegals, HR, and accounting, we’ve grown a lot in the past two years and now occupy half the floor.
Everyone’s gone for the day when I step off the elevator. At least, I thought they were. As soon as I round the corner, Leisa pushes back from her desk and stands. “I haven’t received anything about time or date for court and—”
“Although I appreciate you staying late, you shouldn’t be here, Leisa. It’s almost eight.”
“If you’re here, I’m here.”
My assistant is dedicated beyond her pay. I need to make sure her bonus makes up for it, and she gets a raise. “Unlike me, you have a life. You should be out living it.”
She laughs. “So should you, but here we are.” She follows me into my office and sits across the desk from me.
Placing the bag in front of her, I say, “If you’re staying, let me offer you dinner. Eat something.”
The crinkling of the bag makes my stomach growl as I take off my jacket and hang it behind the door.
When I sit in the black leather chair that matches the one my father uses at his office in my hometown of Beacon, I lean my head back and exhale as if the day has gotten the better of me. I hate to admit, this Tuesday has . . .
Tuesday. I can’t stop thinking about her and wondering if she’s awake.
Leisa says, “Boss?” I look up to find her staring at me expectantly.
Being in her early thirties shouldn’t have her sporting dark circles under her eyes.
She’s knotted her hair on her head, which is more her style once our coworkers have gone home than during business hours.
She’s too much like me, letting each day become longer without time to live life anymore.
“I’m not going to eat your dinner. But more importantly, what happened after court?” she asks.
What happened? It’s a loaded question. I’m still not sure what the hell happened. I scrub my hands over my face, then drop them to the wooden desktop. “I bought coffee, but I have no fucking idea what happened to it.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean? That doesn’t make sense.”
“A lot doesn’t make sense, starting with why the judge delayed the ruling.”
She puts the plastic dish full of pasta in front of me along with the included plasticware. “I’m not sure we can do much else tonight other than wait since you presented the evidence in our client’s favor, so eat.”
“You should eat it.”
“I’m taking your advice and going home to eat. Maybe one day, you’ll take mine and take care of yourself.” Standing back up, she slips out toward the door. “If you need anything—”
“I won’t need anything tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
With a nod and an empathetic smile that always makes me think she feels sorry for me, she then replies, “Good night, Loch.”
She learned years ago that she couldn’t coax me into going home when I feel the need to be in the office. “Night, Leisa.”
After she’s left, I roll up my sleeves, log in to my computer, and start reviewing the Reinhold case file.
I rub my temple. A fine-tooth comb couldn’t find a discrepancy.
The research and evidence are solid. Feeling confident in the case I’ve laid out, I rock back in the chair and stare out the window.
A few lights scatter across the business district of dark skyscrapers, but otherwise, the city that never sleeps has gone to bed.
Glancing at the clock on my computer, I realize more time has passed than I thought. The pasta that I forgot to eat sits in its covered dish nearby. No wonder I have no energy. No food. No caffeine . . . What did happen to my coffee? I must have dropped it when running to help Tuesday.
Tuesday.
Tuesday is the last thing that should be on my mind.
That damn gleam of victory that shone in her eyes at the coffee shop still lingers. I should be annoyed that she got the better of me then, but I chuckle instead, her words no longer burning my ego like they did before.
But it was when she was in the ambulance and later lying in the hospital bed that I got to see the other side of the frustrating woman.
The softer side of her lost in the tranquility of sleep.
It didn’t matter that chaos surrounded us, which disappeared under the unrelenting connection we had now formed.
Whether we liked it or not, we were entangled together because of one act of violence.
Sitting by her side, I felt a pull from outside myself to take care of her. That’s when I knew I was right where I was supposed to be.
I pick up my phone, indulging my own need to know, and track down the number for the hospital.
Nine a.m. sharp.
Just as instructed by Nurse Belinda when I called for an update last night, which she only begrudgingly gave me because no one else had shown up for Tuesday.
I’m sitting in the back of the SUV now, waiting when I don’t even know what her caution of “releasing her into the wilds of the city at nine a.m. sharp” meant, but her words still rumble around my head this morning. Is it code for something?
Apparently, it was all she could say and more than she should have. I’m trusting the process. From the driver’s seat, Brady offers, “I can move closer.”
“No. This is fine. I don’t want to block other cars.”
He seems curious as to why we’re parked in the hospital driveway and sitting here. I wish I had a better explanation for him, but I’m at a loss as well.
My phone buzzes on the seat. Leisa’s name flashes on the screen. I answer on speakerphone. “Don’t tell me.”
“Yep,” she replies, sighing. “She called court to order for nine thirty. Can you make it in time?”
Hospital personnel walk inside just as an older couple exits, but there’s no sign of Belinda. I check my watch. 9:03. Even if there was no traffic, I wouldn’t make it. “I’m across town. There’s no way.”
“How late will you be?”
The hospital doors slide open, and my gaze lengthens, locking onto blond hair that lifts in the wind and blue eyes searching as if she’s looking for me.
Tuesday.
I’ve been looking for the wrong woman.
My heart starts thumping in my chest in unwarranted anticipation now realizing that Belinda set me up.
“Loch?” Leisa’s voice returns as I open the door to the SUV. “Mr. Allendale is at the courthouse to meet his clients for a ten o’clock appearance. Would you like me to have him step in for you?”
“Yes. I need to go.” I hang up, get out, and shut the door.
Tuesday stands in stark contrast to her appearance at the coffee shop.
Although she’s bundled up in her coat, the skirt dipping out the bottom, and the same heels I last saw her wearing, everything about her is softer, from the lines on the sides of her mouth to her stance and the gentle waves that run through her hair and over her shoulders.
She’s fucking stunning.
But when I catch her gaze, it’s like she’s lost—stormy clouds full of fear settling in. It’s a look that should never cross her face.
I start for her. “What the fuck am I doing?” I mutter to myself, tempted to run my hand through my hair. I don’t. I have court later, and I pride myself on always being put together, even under pressure. “Hi,” I say. “Not sure if you remember me from the coffee shop?”
She’s staring at me, and for a split second, I detect a hint of recognition spark in her eyes. “I, um . . .” She starts but is already shaking her head in doubt.
“Of course, not.” I’m shaking my head to let her off the hook. Stopping a few feet away from her, I continue, “It was a brief encounter. Before—”
“Before?” she asks, her eyes traveling from mine to my mouth, lower to my chest, where her gaze lingers, and then back up. Tilting her head, she studies me like I’ll give her the secrets to the universe if she searches long enough. “Before what?”
“Before you were mugged.” Touching the back of my head, I add, “And hit your head,” as if she needed the reminder. I shake my head for acting a fool. Why am I like this with her?
“Ah.” Disappointment is seen in the curve of her shoulders as she takes a breath and then lets them fall. Rubbing just above her eyebrow, she asks, “You were at the coffee shop?”
Holding out my hand, I reply, “As you know, I didn’t make my best first impression.” Not that she did either, but the impression stuck enough for me to be here today, behaving like an idiot. “I’m Loch Westcott.”
As she slips her hand in mine, our gazes fix together, and her smile encourages mine. “It’s nice to officially meet you, Loch. I’m Tuesday.” She smiles as genuine as I’ve seen on her. “You rode with me to the hospital?”
“It was the right thing to do.”
“Thank you.”
A flush of embarrassment floods her cheeks as her gaze lowers between us. “One of the nurses said you also stayed to make sure I was taken care of. Is that true?”
Despite how wrong she rubbed me, she was still beautiful the first time I saw her, but now, she knocks the breath from me.
I look down at our hands still latched together and take a breath, finally easing in her presence.
Her hand falls away from mine too soon and then she tucks both of hers into her coat pockets.
“How are you?” I ask.
A gentle shrug pops her shoulders before a weary smile hangs on her face. “Maybe you can help me.”
“I’d be happy to.”
Pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, she says, “I need to go to this address, but I don’t know where it is.”
Before I resort to another episode of the boyhood awkwardness she keeps bringing out in me, I offer, “I have a car.” I glance at the Escalade. “And driver. Brady. We can give you a ride?”