chapter 8
HUNTER
“I’M SORRY, MR. RODGERS, but I really think it’s in your best interests to give her what she is asking for,” I tell the idiotic man. I’ve been talking to him for the past hour, discussing the phone call I had with Riley’s new attorney. After telling Jeremy that all they want is the dog, the pub, and the land the pub is on, he has just been ranting and raving like a lunatic. He somehow got it in his head that he is going to be able to keep everything: the money, the properties, the yacht, get her pub, and keep . . . the dog. I just don’t understand where he is coming from. Even my most obnoxious clients have been more reasonable than this.
“You are the best divorce lawyer in the city,” he tells me, shaking his head. “If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”
While I’m flattered at his faith in me, even I can’t go against the damn law and make my own rules to please him. Going to court will work against him.
“In the grand scheme of things, she is asking for such a small percentage of your net worth. If this goes to court, it’s the judge who will decide your outcome, not me,” I tell him, keeping my calm facade.
“I have dirt on her, if that’s what you need,” he says, shrugging. “Riley has a few skeletons in her closet. If we let the judge know that, slander her character, will the judge grant me what I want?”
I don’t know how I can explain this to him any simpler. It doesn’t matter what skeletons Riley has, they don’t have any children, so no matter what it is, it doesn’t affect anyone. Unless of course she abused animals or ran a dog-fighting ring.
When I don’t say anything, he continues, “Do you know that she’s a murderer? Maybe that should be brought up in court too.”
Murderer? What is he talking about? This guy is certifiable.
I close the folder in my hands and tap the bottom of it on the desk. “I think that’s a whole different case, Mr. Rodgers, and I’m not a criminal attorney. Can I ask you why giving her what she wants is such a big deal?”
For the first time since I’ve met him, Jeremy seems to contemplate what I’m saying. He’s quiet for a bit before he speaks, another first. “When I met Riley she was an entirely different person. She needed me. She wanted me. I did so much for her and helped her through a lot of hard times. But when I started to need her when my career took off, she wasn’t there for me.”
As I listen to him show a smidge of vulnerability and hurt, I actually start to feel sorry for him. He loved her. He is hurt. He—
“She wouldn’t go to the country club and entertain potential clients with me. She wouldn’t learn to play tennis or golf. She dressed inappropriately. She was such a selfish bitch. So she should suffer. Do you know what this divorce does to my reputation?”
And any sympathy I may have started to have for him goes right out the window. Fucking prick.
“Okay, Mr. Rodgers. If you aren’t willing to compromise, then I guess we are going to have this conversation again, except in front of a judge. I’ll let you know when the court date is.” I stand, hoping he takes the hint and does the same.
“I’d better get a win here, Brayze. I called in all my favors to get you as my attorney when I realized Riley was going to go through with this.” He shakes my hand as he leaves my office.
I tidy up my desk and step into Kat’s office.
“How did it go?” she asks, putting down her pen and giving me her full attention.
“He won’t give in,” I say, sitting opposite her. “He thinks some old dirt he has on Riley is going to persuade the judge to just give him everything.”
“What a dumb-ass,” Kat murmurs, shaking her head. “The judge might even give Riley a house for all we know.”
“I tried to tell him that,” I grumble. “And speaking of Riley, can you stop scaring her off me? We have enough going against us; I don’t want her afraid to even try something when we finally have the opportunity. I’m going to bide my time and just grow on her.”
She takes a sip from her bottle of water and almost chokes on it. “That’s your plan? To ‘grow’ on her? What kind of plan is that? I thought you were a ladies’ man.”
“This isn’t exactly an everyday situation for me,” I tell her dryly. “I want her, Kat. As in I want to be with her. That changes everything. And although everyone seems to think I’m going to hurt her, it’s my heart on the line too.” I stop her before she speaks. “And yes, I do have a heart.”
“Just checking,” she teases, grinning at me. “Well, you can’t go near her now anyway. So I guess you have no choice but to take it slow until you settle this case. And by slow, I mean just be friends. Get to know each other more. Don’t push or pressure her. She’s got a lot on her plate right now.”
I know all of this. I’ve probably spent the most time with her out of everyone. And all the while I thought she was married, when she was already separated. Does everyone realize how much this changes things for me? Something I’ve wanted so badly, that was completely out of the realm of possibility before, is now within my grasp, so close I can almost taste her sweet lips.
I should stay away from her until the case is over, and I will. At least I’ll try.
Yes, I need to be patient, but that doesn’t mean the two of us can’t spend time together, talk, and get to know each other without my thinking about how she’s fucking married the whole time.
“I know this. I want to be there for her,” I say, for what feels like the hundredth time. “I mean, I know I can’t really do that until the case is over, but shit, I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve been given.”
“I know you are,” Kat says, smiling a little sadly. “It’ll all work out in the end.”
“I hope so,” I say with a sigh, then stand up and walk to the door. “I’ve got to get to my next client.”
I walk back to my office, feeling like shit.
This is not how I would have chosen for things to be.
But like I said, I’m doing my fucking best.
AFTER WORK I HIT the gym for an hour to do some boxing before I head home. When I get there, I decide to tinker in my garage with my car. If I hadn’t become a lawyer, I think I would have become a mechanic. I love fixing cars and working on mine. It’s kind of peaceful, and I like to use my hands after just using my mind all day long.
After a long shower, I throw on some gray sweatpants and walk into my kitchen. It’s late, and I haven’t had anything to eat yet, but the last thing I want to do is cook right now. Does Riley cook much at home? Why does my mind always wander to her? I don’t know what’s going to happen once this case is over, but I do know what I want. I know that under all that iciness is pure sweetness, I just have to get there. She has to let me in, so I can show her that I’m different. I will cook for her and spoil her as much as I can. My mom taught me how to cook when I was a boy, because she didn’t want me to be like my dad, who can’t even fry an egg. She raised an independent man, and for that I’m thankful. I don’t need a woman to look after me, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate one who tried.
Especially if that one happened to be a fiery brunette with hazel eyes.
A knock at my door has me closing the fridge and forgetting my food search. I’m not expecting anyone, which means it can only be one person.
I open the door and my baby sister flashes me a smile and then gives me a warm hug. “I was in the neighborhood.”
“You should have brought some food with you,” I grumble, locking the door behind her.
“You should have told me and I would have.”
“You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”
We enter the kitchen and she opens my fridge and scans its contents. Unlike me though, she apparently sees potential meal ideas. “Do you want me to make you a stir-fry? Or how about some pesto chicken pasta with sundried tomatoes?”
“Pasta, please,” I tell her, grinning at the fact I was just thinking about how I didn’t need a woman to look after me. Here walks in my baby sister though and does just that. “Did you have dinner?”
“Nope,” she says as she pulls out ingredients and places them on the countertop. “I came here straight from work.”
My sister works in aged care. She opted not to go to college and instead spent time traveling before she got her certification to care for the elderly. She hasn’t always been a saint, and has gotten into her fair share of trouble over the years, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. She’s always there when I need her, and I try to do the same for her.
“Is everything okay?” I ask her.
Yes, she comes over now and again, but it’s usually not just to say hello. Her house is about a twenty-minute drive from here, and when we’re catching up we usually make plans. Our parents live a few hours away, so we see them a lot less than we see each other.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, but the way she draws out the word gives it away for her. “I kind of need a favor, Hunter.”
“What is it?” I ask, watching her hands as she starts to chop up the chicken breast.
“I was wondering if you could loan me some money,” she asks, glancing up at me. “You know I hate to ask, but I’m kind of falling behind on my expenses and bills, and—”
“How much do you need, Cleo?” I ask, cutting her off. I earn good money, and I have no problem giving her however much she needs. I would never expect her to pay it back either. I grab my phone from the table and open my banking app.
“A thousand or two?” she asks, flashing me a hopeful look. “If you can’t, I totally understand, it’s not your responsibly to look after me, and . . .”
“I’ll put it in now,” I tell her, and then transfer four thousand to her. I don’t want her to have to worry about money, especially when I make more than enough to get her through when she’s having a rough time.
“Thanks, Hunter,” she whispers, stopping her movements. “I really appreciate it. And I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cleo,” I tell her. “And you know you’re always welcome to move in here if you want to save money.”
“I know,” she says, cutting an onion now. “We’d probably kill each other though, and I’d never be able to bring any men home.”
I cringe and shudder. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. My baby sister would never do that, she respects herself too much.”
“So none of the many women you bring home respect themselves?” she asks, arching her brow, challenging me. “Hypocrite much?”
“I’m not going to comment on my sex life with my younger sister,” I tell her, then decide to change the subject. I love my sister, but sex is a topic I do not want to get into with her. If I’m being completely honest, there’s a huge double standard when it comes to sex, and yeah, I might have slept around in the past, but the thought of her doing the same makes me want to strangle someone. Come to think of it, the thought of Riley being with another man makes me want to do the same, and I already have one of hers as my client. “So tell me what’s new with you.”
We spend the next few hours chatting and catching up.
Sometimes that’s all you need.