Home Is Where Your Boots Are (5 page)

“Here’s a souvenir, honey. He won’t get very far without his valve stems. Daddy could use the extra business. That’s where he’ll come to get new tires.”

I was feeling more like me. I was sporting a crisp white David Meister with pintucked pleats around a boat neck with a skinny black patent belt and matching Stuart Weitzman pointy-toed stilettos. I’d stolen my mom’s Chi, straightened my hair and lacquered it down. Nonnie had sent me off with a specially purchased recycled to-go cup of coffee to which she’d added toffee-flavored creamer. I had a legal pad under my arm, a file folder in hand, and was assertively clicking my way up the sidewalk to the courthouse for a hearing. Granted, it was a hearing about the ownership of cows, but they were show cows mind you.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, I was smacked by a sense of …

“Holy crap!”

My feet landed in the sticker bushes, my coffee landed on my head
,
and I landed on the bricked sidewalk, no doubt ruining both the front and backsides of my dress.

I looked up from my askanced position at ground level only to be blinded by the glint of a pair of mirrored Ray-Bans. I held up a scraped palm to shield the glare and laid my eyes on the assailant, a tall broad-shouldered suit. He none too gently grabbed my injured hand and hauled me to standing, drawing me dangerously close to him. Oodles of uber-perfection oozed from every ounce of his being. 

Completely
nonplussed by knocking me over
and not at all impressed with my outfit, he slowly drew off his sunglasses to regard me without much interest.

He was about 6’5” with a swimmer’s body, overly broad shoulders
,
and a narrow waist. His GQ haircut and standout sunglasses immediately shouted to the world that he wasn’t from Brooks. Sunglasses off, he had a square jaw, amazing nose and deep brown eyes. His brown hair, tanned skin and white teeth screamed Hollywood dreamboat. He was very much perfect in every way. That and the overly calm, cool, and collected demeanor that rolled of
f
him in waves combined to make me feel very annoyed. In reality, it was only my current level of self-esteem that was making me irritated, so I tried not to take it out on him. He was just an innocent (supposed) bystander of my irritation.

“You went flying,” he said, without so much as a how-do-you-do.

I teetered for a second on my heels and started to lay into him, “What were you doing?!”

“You weren’t paying any attention at all,” he went on, without responding to my question
. I withdrew and went into full-
on diva mode.

“Me?! You ran into me.” His mouth quirked, without humor.

“Nope, I tried my best to avoid you, but you just kept on and
ran
into me.”

“I.
Did. Not
.”
Ran into him, my ass.

“Whatever you were doing, you weren’t paying attention.” I gave up on the fault and tried to deflect any blame headed my way.

“Aren’t you even going to ask if I’m okay?” The man didn’t even pause.

“You’re fine. Definitely need to change your clothes, but fine. Here.” He handed me my rescued files and notebook. I was trying to be calm before my court appearance. It was a struggle.

“Who are you?” I bit out, not sweetly. He had the nerve to laugh.

“Spencer Locke.” I stopped being angry for a moment and morphed into curious.

“As in the Lockes, as in Charlie Locke?” I asked.

“The one and only,” he allowed a smile to pass over his sharply cut features.

“Charlie doesn’t have a son! Does he?” I blurted before I could stop myself. He laughed this time, shark-white teeth flashing, and rolled his eyes.

“If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that in this town. I’m Charlie’s nephew. Currently serving as the senior associate attorney at Locke and Associates.”

“You’re an attorney?”

“Don’t I look like an attorney?” He asked, unruffled but abrupt.

“I didn’t know Charlie had a nephew who was an attorney.”

“He tells me I’m a damned Yankee. He probably kept me in the closet until I decided to submit myself humbly to his tutelage.” I laughed at his superfluous words, my earlier ruffling momentarily forgotten for what passed as flirting for me these days.

He put his sunglasses back on, and I took the opportunity to more thoroughly and objectively inspect him. His eyes had been chocolate. His hair the dark kind. There was an attempt at the lazy brilliance so perfected by those born with southern charm, but it fell short. The sharp bite of his eyes was too assessing, his thick lips too set in thought, his cut-glass jaw too clenched. The façade was there; the extra-long height, the sharp suit, the rumpled hair, the shoulders worthy of an Olympian all served to announce “Good Guy Seeking Fun Time.” But something bubbled under the surface. I avoided putting my finger on its pulse and hid a shiver.

“Probably so,” I stuck out my scraped palm, “Lilly Atkins.” He shook my hand without any deference to my gender, and without lingering.

“So I’ve heard. Let’s see if you live up to your billing.” He quickly flashed his teeth again and headed back in the direction he’d started.  He stopped and turned around. I still had it. Maybe I didn’t look so disheveled after all…

“Charlie says your best friend’s the local gossip. You wouldn’t happen to have heard any about a car vandalism last night at Chester’s?” He asked, somewhat too casually in my mind.

“No, not particularly,” I hedged, “Why?”

“The vandalee is apparently our newest client. Citing severe emotional distress and destruction of property. And highly terroristic activities.” I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself.

“What a pansy. H
e’s quite apparently fro
m out of town.” Spencer’s razor-
sharp brown eyes pierced me from under the glint of his sunglasses.

“How did you know it was a ‘he’?” I did my best not to stutter.

“Just an assumption,” I flitted my hands in the air toward him and turned to go before I laid too many cards on the table.

“Miss Atkins.” Shit. 

“Yes?” I turned back.

“Your files.” He handed me another of my folders,
forgotten on the sidewalk. I let out
an uncharacteristic giggle and headed toward my hearing, ignoring the heart palpitations.

xxx

“You know damn good and well those are my heif
ers!”

“They were until they
tore down my fence and startied
eating my grass!” I wasn’t used to my clients yelling; and since my coffee was currently residing on the dress I hadn’t time to change, I was verging on a headache. At no time during the shouting did Judge Pollard even glance at his gavel to call order to the court. He simply sat still with his hands crossed over his ample belly and surveyed the scene with a bemused expression.

Courtroom Number Three in the Brooks County Courthouse had weathered some storms. It ha
d been an addition in 1974 and
hadn’t been touched since then. The walls were a mustard yellow. The wood was dark and the varnish peeling. Faded U.S. and Oklahoma flags stood forlornly on either side of the judge’s bench, and a thickly framed copy of the Ten Commandments clung proudly and defiantly to the wall. The linoleum floor was worn in places and scuffed where it wasn’t. The whole courthouse smelled vaguely of urine, sweat, and Gladys Cobbs’ Eternity perfume. Gladys was the county c
lerk
who had died a few years ago. I’d caught a whiff of the same smells when I’d walked in this morning. She must be haunting, or someone else had taken to wearing her perfume.

As a little girl, I used to sneak into the courtrooms and watch proceedings before someone caught me. When caught, they’d either shoo me home or explain the case to me, depending on whether they deemed it appropriate or not. Charlie, the uncle of assumed asshole until proven otherwise who’d ruined my dress, had always been one to vouch for my presence. A legal legend in Brooks and surrounding counties, he’d settle his berth beside me and weave the story of the case with a twinkle in his eye and élan in his voice. Charlie was the reason I was an attorney. I sighed.

“Your Honor.” He didn’t even glance in my direction. I stood up, barely missed getting whacked in the head by my client, Surly Clark (yes that was his real name), who’d dressed up for court that day by putting a plucked rose in the front pocket of his overalls. “Your Honor. Your HONOR!” Judge Pollard started, sending a glare in my general direction before his eyes adjusted and he realized he was glaring at Minnie Culvert’s granddaughter.

“Lilly Kay, uh, Miss Lilly, um, Counselor Lilly Kay.” He wobbled a bit in his seat. I cleared my throat.

“Your Honor, my client is more than willing to give back the cows, er, heifers. He only asks that the plaintiff pay him restitution for the fence and the grass.” I hate my life. I could see Teddy Salz, the farmer whose cows had escaped into Surly’s pasture, check himself. His attorney
, Kyle Simcox, started to speak,
but Teddy cut him off.

“Well, Judge, I s’pose that sounds more than fair. Course I’d be willing to pay to put Surly’s fence back up. I just want my girls back. Those are prize breeders.” I mean, really, hate my life. He finally picked up his gavel and smacked it with relish.

“Case closed. Y’all figure it out in the hall.” And like that, my morning’s purpose was fulfilled. It had taken all of fifteen minutes. Which meant I had time to kill before I went back to my office for my non-existent afternoon appointments. I decided to head to the dispatch room, otherwise known as Fae Lynn’s “office
.”

xxx

Fae Lynn, headset on,
64
ounce Mountain Dew in one hand and
a
stick of beef jerky in the other, was swiveling in her chair, talking someone off a ledge. Literally.

I waited her out patiently, both impressed by and scared of her skills. Once the potential jumper had been passed over to the officer who’d arrived at the scene, she clicked off and swung to face me.

“Crazy-ass Lyle Stephens. Threatens to kill himself about every other month. I almost just told him to jump this morning.” I shrugged, not really concerned if Fae wasn’t. And I had more important things on my mind.

“Spencer Locke. W
hat do you know?” She raised an eyebrow and took a suck
from
the neon pink straw in
her cup.

“Hot. Like with two t’s. Charlie’s nephew, although
his dad must have been adopted. H
e looks nothing like Charlie. Scotty likes him, although he only got here a little while before you did. All the judges seem to like him, although Charlie’s had to vouch for him, since he’s not from here. I think he’s a damned Yankee too, bless his heart. Did I mention he’s hot?”

“You did. I ran into him this morning. He struck me as a little odd. And maybe an asshole
.
Hot, yes, but a jerk, maybe.”

“Literally?” she asked, motioning to the tan stain not so designer-strategic on my white dress.

“Yep.”

“The asshole thing is just the Yankee thing. I think Annabelle’s been giving him lessons on being charming, but I’m not sure it’s taking. But did I mention he’s hot? That makes up for a lot.”

“Maybe. He was as
king questions about Adam’s car.
”

“So. I’
m sure everyone knows it was us,
or suspects. But who’s going to say?” I shrugged, conceding that.

“He said Adam wanted to sue.” Fae laughed.

“Again, ‘so’?” Her lack of concern again relieving me of mine, I decided to let it go.

“Is that your lunch?” I gestured to the beef stick.

“Nope. You want to eat?”

“Yes, please.” She grabbed her stuff and with a wave toward her counterpart and without a backward glance, swept out of the office.

That afternoon, I giggled a bit thinking about last night’s shenanigans as I sipped the sludge that was supposed to be my sugar free, nonfat, grande latte. The drugstore was trying, but they were no Starbucks. Blast that Van for forcing me to leave the place I’d made a home and found good coffee.
Last night had felt good though.
I had to admit that being with all my old girlfriends and back up to our old tricks had taken my mind off of Van and the chaos that had surrounded me since I’d found him with his secretary.

I heard the bell over the door jangle. My new secretary must have finally decided to show up for work. I checked my watch. 3:30. I looked around my desk and found that I’d spent the early afternoon buying birthday presents online instead of organizing my old files. Another day lost. A shadow filled the doorjamb of my office. I looked up and choked on the sweet tea I’d brought to my lips. Forget Van. I had new pandemonium to deal with.

I had managed to avoid Cash Stetson for seven good years, and for the past two days
,
he’d managed to
not only
ensure
I ruin my favorite coffee mug and my sister’s sweater but also
get me in trouble with my mama.

“Shit,” I sighed. “I wish you’d stop sneaking up on m
e like that,” I admonished Cash.
“It’s annoying.

“Lilly.
You know I’d never intentionally annoy you,” he lied. “Besides, shouldn’t you have a secretary by now to announce my annoying presence?”

“She’s on her way, any minute, two hours ago, blah, blah, blah,” I tossed my hands up in exasperation. I stood up and started the short speech I’d been rehearsing under Tally’s advisement. “Let’s cut to the chase, Cash. I need details and reasons as to exactly why you want me as your lawyer. No more bullshit, no more charm, and no more good ole boy. I want the truth.” I gave my speech in a short, curt tone. Only my uneven breathing belied how nervous I was to actually ask Cash to give me none of the usual bullshit. I was comfortable with bullshit
.
What would I do if we cut through all the bullshit and came down to the truth? Could I handle the truth? Crap. I was conjuring eighties lawyer movies. I contemplated if that was better than country songs. About the same.

Cash had come to me the day before, asking for help. If you haven’t caught on yet, he had said he wanted to hire me as his lawyer, his divorce lawyer. Yep, Cash was married. He’d done it right before his residency program in Tulsa. I was in Texas at the time, and preferred to decline the invitation that had been sent to the family. I was pretty sure his wife had been forced by Cash’s mama to invite my family anyway. We were likely only invited because the Stetsons and the Atkins were two of the oldest families in town.

When Mama had called to tell me Cash was getting married
,
I went straight to Neiman Marcus and bought seven pairs of shoes, shopped my way down Preston Road to the Galleria, stopping only at a Marble Slab and a Starbucks for lunch and dinner. I had ignored the phone calls from Van and arrived in a shopped-out, caffeine-hyped stupor at my condo only after I’d been forced to leave a TJ Maxx because I’d gotten into a verbal spat over a Felini hobo bag. At the time, I hadn’t seen Cash in five years. See what he does. He’s like that smoke detector, batteries dying, that you can’t shut up fast enough. And just when you think you’ve fixed the problem, the buzzing starts again.

Cash had come into my office yesterday evening, wanting a divorce lawyer. My specialty and fancy certifications ran toward corporate real estate. It was odd then, that he would want me, his not quite unrequited love, to represent him. I’d asked him to give me a day to think it over. Apparently
,
he’d forgotten one day consisted of twenty-four hours, not thirteen.

“Lilly. It’s like this. I’ve heard you’re the best. I need the best. Tina’s nutted out and wants to take me to the cleaners. I could care less about the money, but it’s the
principle of the thing.  I’ll be damned if I let her get a penny of what I’ve worked for,” he said, all very convincingly. I, however, wasn’t all that convinced. Money had never really been a driving force in Cash’s story. With wealthy parents and a trust fund from a crazy aunt, he’d always had plenty to play, and that was all that mattered to him. There was something else he wasn’t telling me.

“What else?” I countered speculatively. Cash sighed. I had him. I knew him too well, even after all we’d experienced separately.

“Come on, Lilly. I know I was the town Dennis the Menace. I know half the women in this town hate me, with good reason. I know your grandmother’s never forgiven me
setting that cat on fire
, but
Lilly, I’ve changed. I’m respected. I’m a
surgeon. I’m Chief of Staff at the hospital. And the people in this town have finally seen me for that. I’m kind of their knight in shining armor. I’m the guy in the white hat, on the white horse, you know?” he implored. I propped my hip on the corner of my desk and slowly applauded.

“How long you been working on that speech?” I asked sarcastically. He smiled, his hand in the cookie jar.

“A while.”

“Okay. What else?” I kept digging, well aware of my bad habit of not leaving well enough alone.

“Alright, smartass,” he shot back, “
I’m well aware that you end up being the best at whatever you’ve always set your mind to. It doesn’t matter if it’s hopscotch or hairdressing, you win at everything. Except against me,” he finished with a devilish grin.

“That’s not true. I’ll beat you at anything, anytime, you name it,” I shot back.

“You see Lilly, it’s that fightin’ spirit that makes me want to hire you as my lawyer”

“Sure, bubba. But you’ve got something else going on in your head on this deal,” I reasoned out loud, tilting my head and fixing my eyes on him.

“I figured the fact that you hate my soon-to-be ex-wife might come in handy.” He ducked as I threw my Montblanc pen at his head.

“You jackass. I should have known that whatever your intentions were no way would they be pure,” I ranted. “And that’s the farthest from the truth. I feel deeply sorry for your wife. Anyone dumb enough to be married to you has to have a screw loose. If push came to shove, I’d choose her side over you, on principle alone.”

He took a second to look hurt.

“Just calm down and listen, Lilly. Let’s be rational about this. You and I have always been at each other’s throats. We’ve been going at it for years.
It’s
what the town expects. Now imagine us in cahoots, the town’s two most dynamic individuals as a team. It’ll shock people. It’ll turn the town on its ear.” This last bit was said with a diabolical grin. “And to be honest, I need your reputation. If you’re behind me, I have a shot of one of the judges in this town listening to my side. Otherwise, they’ll take one look at me and send me on my way with nothing.”

I looked for something else to throw at him.

I was opposed to divorce. But I was a lawyer, and justice was a big driver for me. Cash was right. He probably wouldn’t get a fair shake in this town.  My presence on his side of the courtroom would go a long way toward leveling the playing field.

“I’ll do it,” I affirmed, sticking out my hand to seal the deal with a handshake. He took my hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it softly and then returning it to my side as I stood there in stunned silence.

“Lilly, you’re the best. Together, no one will touch us. I’ll call yo
u,” he turned and walked toward
the door. He winked at me before he walked out of my office. I was still standing with my mouth open and my hand dangling at my side. Exactly what I had gotten myself into, I wasn’t all that sure. I saw that gleam in Cash Stetson’s eye, the same one I’d seen at sixteen, right before he’d eased me up against his shiny red pickup and removed any trace of my first kiss from my mind.