chapter 11
I SIT AT MY DESK, tapping my pen on my notepad over and over again.
“Is everything okay?” Tristan asks me as he enters my office, coffee for me in hand. “You look pensive.”
He’s in another gray suit, and this one fits him just right. I try to keep my gaze locked on his, but that doesn’t help any. His eyes are what drew me in, and now I need to pretend like I don’t want to get lost in their depths.
“Thanks,” I say, smiling as he places the cup down in front of me. “I just found out something about the Davensworth case, and I’m not really sure what to think of it.”
He takes a seat and studies me. “Try me.”
“His biological father was his boss,” I start. “And Brenton knew that, which is why he took the job. He’s way overqualified for that position anyway. He wanted to be near his dad; maybe he was curious, or something.” I take a deep breath. “His half brother worked there too. So he’d have to watch his dad and brother be a family while he was just a stranger.”
“You don’t think he took the money as some kind of revenge plot?” Tristan asks.
“No, I actually don’t,” I admit, tilting my head and narrowing my gaze. “I have a theory here, and it might be a stretch, but I think that Jerry, his brother, found out about Brenton and framed him. I think he siphoned the money into Brenton’s account so it looked like he was the one stealing.”
His expression is almost comical. “How exactly did you come to that theory?”
“I researched the brother, and not only does he have a criminal record and from what I can tell a shady character, he also knows Brenton is his half brother and has decided not to say anything about it. Probably because, according to marriage records, their dad was still married to Jerry’s mother when Brenton was born. He cheated on Jerry’s mom and that’s how Brenton was conceived, then given up for adoption. Acknowledging him would have meant admitting that his father wasn’t faithful.”
I had a look online and found some pretty incriminating posts.
Tristan’s eyes are wide as saucers at this point. “This could be a soap opera.”
“I know,” I admit, taking a sip of the still-hot coffee. “I just need to find the paper trail that proves Jerry could have been the one secretly transferring the funds, and then I have proof of his motive. I also need to speak to the father and let him know the truth, and hope he withdraws his claims.”
“You’ve done well,” he says, looking impressed. He shakes his head. “I didn’t think you’d have solved one of the cases so fast. Perhaps I need to increase your workload.”
“Ha-ha,” I chime, rolling my eyes. “How’s Logan this morning?”
“Much better,” he says, smiling back at me. “Hospital let me take him home yesterday, and he’s as good as new. I kept him home from school today just because I don’t want him to do too much too soon, but the doctor said he’s fine now. It was just an infection that got the best of him.”
“I’m glad,” I say, exhaling in relief. “Now he needs to never get sick ever again.”
Tristan laughs, his dark eyelashes fanning his cheeks as he looks down into his cup. “You’re telling me. He loved having you there, Kat. I don’t think you know how much it meant to him. He never gets attached to anyone, and I’m really surprised how quickly he grew fond of you.”
“Me too,” I admit, making him laugh. “He’s probably the only child I’ve ever been around. I would’ve thought I’d be terrible with kids, but apparently I’m not too bad.”
“The kid adores you,” he states, pushing the chair back as he stands. “I’m going to be in court all day. Do you want to come with me, or have you got too much work here?”
I’d love to go with him, but do I really need to be spending the day watching him kick ass in the courtroom? No. I probably shouldn’t be around him any more than I have to.
“I might just stay and catch up today,” I tell him. “Not to mention, Callum’s in today and he wanted me to help him with something. Rain check?”
“Sounds good,” he says, stopping in the doorframe. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
“And, Kat?” he asks, making me lift my head up again.
“Yes?”
He opens his mouth to say something but then shuts it, like he changed his mind. He settles for “You look nice today,” then walks off.
I look nice?
I glance down at my black blouse and then back at the door.
He’s never commented on my appearance before, besides the one time he called me beautiful, which I replay in my head more often than I’d ever admit.
Not sure what to make of this, I push his comment out of my head and get started on my work. I’m furiously typing up a report when Callum walks into my office with a box of doughnuts in his hands.
“Hungry?” he asks, placing the box on my desk.
“Always,” I reply, opening it and pulling out the first one my fingers touch. “You’re late.”
“I know,” he replies, taking a doughnut and all but eating it whole. He licks his fingers as he says, “I was going to get you to help me with that research analysis from the Fredricks case, but now Tristan told me to come to court with him. I think he needs a lackey.”
I stop chewing for a second. Tristan is taking him to court? Because I said no? Maybe he actually needed help and I turned him down because of something borderline petty. Feeling bad, I swallow the rest of my mouthful, then finish the treat before saying, “I can help you with the analysis next time, or if you return before the day is over, then.”
“Sounds perfect,” he murmurs, taking another doughnut and then pushing the box toward me. “I better get going. Feel free to finish these.”
He disappears, and once again I’m left alone with my thoughts about Tristan. Apparently trying to distract myself from them is going to be a little harder than I thought.
Hunter stops by my office, eyeing the doughnut box.
I grin and slide it toward him. “Callum brought them in. Help yourself.”
Yvonne steps in too, bright yellow heels today, and grabs a doughnut in each hand. “When Callum leaves, someone better step up and start bringing food in.”
“I vote Kat,” Hunter pipes up, doughnut falling into his beard. Because of his comment, I decide not to tell him. Let the doughnut grow moldy right under his eyes.
“Hey, if I pass the bar and get to stay here, I’ll bring in whatever you want,” I say with a smirk. “I don’t even care what it is. Coffee, doughnuts, pastries, meth. You name it, I’ll bring it in.”
Hunter starts choking on his doughnut as the word meth leaves my lips.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, then starts to chuckle. “I like you, Kat.”
“I’m glad,” I tell him in a dry tone, saving my work, since I’m not being very productive right now with these two making my office their home. “Perhaps you should put in a good word for me with Tristan and Jaxon, then. I’d like to make partner one day.”
“They see all,” Hunter creepily replies. “And trust me, both of them like you. I don’t know how you got Tristan to like you, but he does. You must be some miracle worker.”
“He’s not so bad,” I defend, but then wish I kept my mouth shut as a speculative look passes on his face.
“I know,” Hunter replies, blue eyes studying me a little too intensely for my liking. “He’s a good man, but he can be blunt, forward, and come off as rude. I think once you get to know him, it’s worth all the effort it took to get to that place.”
“He really is a good man,” Yvonne agrees, and I realize that until this moment I forgot the admission Tristan made about her being his wife’s cousin. “He treated my cousin like an absolute queen, even when she was difficult, which was a lot.” She says it fondly, smiling. “And yeah he can be hard to work for. I remember when I first started here he didn’t care who I was, he was hard on me and made sure I did my work, but that only pushed me to be better.”
Apparently today has turned into Tristan Appreciation Day. These little testimonies aren’t helping my resolve to stop thinking about him. I don’t want to hear how amazing he is, or how well he treated his wife. I’d rather hear about some complaints. Maybe one day he walked in wearing an awful printed suit, or something like that. The office phone rings, so Yvonne heads out to answer it, while Hunter adds in his two cents before leaving himself.
“He likes you,” he announces, a contemplative expression on his face.
Three words, that’s all he says, but they’re enough to make me want to call Callie and ask her what the hell I’m meant to do in this situation. Do I just pretend everything is fine, and ignore this . . . thing between us, or should I push for a taste of it so I can see for myself if it’s real or if it’s some forbidden thing that I’m wanting because I want what I can’t have.
Shit.
I need a lock on my office door.