Not Their First Rodeo

by Christy Jeffries

  It was tempting to use the same strategy against Marcus because all his focus seemed to be on the personal history between them. He might want to secure the upper hand in some sort of imagined verbal battle between them, but that desire was distracting him from the only issue that mattered.

  MJ.

  She cleared her throat. “So I hear you have a body-cam video of my client that the prosecutor is planning to introduce as evidence.”

  “Yes.” Marcus straightened his already-straight shoulders. “Along with witness testimony.”

  “Who is the witness?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck before admitting, “Kendra Broman.”

  Violet frowned. “The daughter of the deputy who made the arrest?”

  “She’s also MJ’s girlfriend.”

  “So you’re admitting she has divided loyalties. Why would she be willing to testify against her boyfriend?”

  “She’s not testifying against him,” Marcus tried to reason. “She’s only testifying to what she saw.”

  “Was Kendra drinking that night?” Violet asked rhetorically. She knew the answer because MJ had admitted as much to her.

  Marcus straightened some already-neat papers on his desk. “I believe the arrest report implies that she was.”

  “Right. The arrest report that her father wrote. Interesting that there was no Breathalyzer done on her, yet there was one done on my client. So how much did Kendra drink that night? How often does she normally drink? And with whom? Has her dad ever caught her drinking before? How does her dad feel about her dating MJ? Has she ever heard her father talking about his distaste for my client or for my client’s family?” Violet paused only long enough to let her rapid-fire questions sink in. “Do you see where I’m going with this, Marcus? If the prosecution puts Kendra on the witness stand, I’m going to have to ask her these questions. In public and under oath. She’s barely eighteen and in love with a boy her father disapproves of. We both remember how that feels. Don’t make me put Kendra through a cross-examination when the body camera can deliver the exact same evidence.”

  Marcus studied her, the deepened crease above his nose highlighting his serious blue eyes. “Your father disapproved of me?”

  Of course that was the part of her speech he focused on. Violet rolled her eyes. “No, my dad adored you. It was my mom who had an issue with our relationship. Although, to be honest, she would’ve disapproved of me having any boyfriend that distracted me from my future prospects. She still does.”

  “Well, she got what she wanted in the end, didn’t she?”

  Violet swallowed down the sting. “You mean when I miscarried her grandchildren? Or when she had to take an emergency absence from the Senate to take care of me when I was on bed rest for two weeks afterward? She never left my side, crying whenever she thought I was asleep. I know what she said to your dad that day was unconscionable, but she was also the person who told me not to be disappointed with you, Marcus. She reminded me that you were going through a lot of stress with boot camp, dealing with the added worry that you were risking your life joining the military. I know you don’t like my mother, Marcus, but even she’s not that much of a monster.”

  He shoved a hand through his short hair. “No. God, no. I just meant that her plan for you and your life wasn’t derailed too much by our relationship after all.”

  “Derailed?” The stinging sensation didn’t go away. “That’s how you want to describe what happened? I was in the hospital for three days, and the father of my children never so much as called.” She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. “Yeah, I know you didn’t get my letter. But learning that now doesn’t lessen the pain I felt back then.”

  “I felt plenty of pain back then, too, Violet.”

  She sucked in a deep breath, but the air between them was so thick with tension, it didn’t bring her any clarity. “Listen, we can’t keep bringing up our past every time we see each other. We’re both here to do a job. Even if we can’t agree on how the other should do their job, we should at least agree to put on our professional pants and try to act civil. For MJ’s sake.”

  His eyes dropped to her hips, then traveled slowly down her legs. “You call those your professional pants?”

  A jolt of electricity shot through her limbs, and she immediately stood up as though she could shake away the feeling.

  “What’s wrong with these pants?” Following his gaze, she ran her hands along her hips to check for rips or stains. His soft groan was barely audible, making her suddenly realize his issue. “Wait. You haven’t suddenly become ultramodest in your old age?”

  “No. Of course not. I just meant that it was easier to think of you a certain way when you were wearing my mother’s clothes.”

  “What a woman wears shouldn’t affect how you think of her.”

  “I know that. And if you were any other woman, keeping my thoughts under control wouldn’t be an issue. Unfortunately, I have the privilege of already knowing exactly what is under those pants. So it’s a lot more difficult setting those kinds of thoughts aside when my brain and that tight fabric is so intent on reminding me.”

  A shiver raced through Violet at his admission, and instead of retreating and putting some distance between them, she took a step forward and placed her hands on his desk. “You think you’re the only one who has to deal with thinking about what someone looks like under their clothes?”

  That didn’t exactly come out the way she’d intended, which made her all the more defensive.

  He stood and adjusted his black leather duty belt. “You mean my county-issued uniform I’m required to wear for my job?”

  “Uniforms are supposed to fit...well...uniformly. But your biceps look like they’re going to bust through the sleeves at the slightest flex. And unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of already knowing what’s under that polyester-blend fabric because you clearly weren’t bench-pressing as much back when we were eighteen.”

  This time, his groan was louder when he stepped around his desk. Violet’s brain was shooting up all the red flags it could muster, but her legs were acting of their own accord. Before she knew it, she’d met him halfway and was in his arms, her lips pressed to his.

  Oh, hell. She was kissing Marcus King.

  Again.

  It felt so familiar and yet so new and thrilling all at the same time. They had been each other’s first so many years ago, learning how to kiss with just the right amount of pressure and curiosity. Clearly, their mouths hadn’t forgotten all those stolen minutes of practice and eagerly molded together as their tongues made up for lost time.

  His hands spanned around her waist, and her fingers dug into his shoulders as the rest of her body melted against his. She sighed as he angled his head and deepened the kiss. He tasted like coffee and misspent youth, and she was at risk of drowning in that familiar passion all over again.

  She pulled away only slightly, needing to give herself a second to think about what had just happened. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as his warm breath fanned her forehead.

  “God, was it always this good between us?” he asked, resting his lips against her temple.

  “I think so.” She shuddered, letting her palms slide down to his defined pectoral muscles. “But we were both so young back then and didn’t know anything else. I remember being able to feel your heart beating in double-time against my skin, just like it is now. Except we were usually wearing a lot less clothing. And there wasn’t usually this coming between us.”

  Tucking his chin, Marcus watched as Violet’s finger traced along one of the points of the star-shaped badge on his chest. She lifted her face to his and was about to pick up where they’d left off when an announcement blared over the intercom.

  “We gotta Code Twin heading your way, Sheriff.”

  Chapter Six

  Marcus had only seconds to jump away fr
om Violet before his office door busted open and Jack spilled the contents of his rocket-ship backpack all over the floor. Jordan was right behind with their aunt Dahlia and little Amelia bringing up the rear.

  “Oh, hi, Violet.” Jack smiled before dropping to the floor to collect his scattered belongings. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

  Violet smoothed her slightly tousled hair and blinked several times. “I, uh, didn’t know I’d be staying this long.”

  “Why’re your lips all red, Dad?” Jordan asked as his brother shoved a handful of crumpled-up papers and a half-eaten banana back into his backpack. “Do you have a fever?”

  “Or did you get a frozen slushy at the Mighty Mart?” Jack, whose brain went to sugar before medical conditions, was now intently staring at him, as well. “I thought Mrs. Contreras said they were out of the cherry flavor.”

  “Uh, no,” Marcus said before dragging the back of his hand across the lower half of his face. Judging by the absence of any lipstick left on Violet’s full lips, he knew exactly why his mouth was so red. And so did his sister.

  Dahlia gave a little snort before depositing a lunch box in the shape of a T. rex on the chair. “Sorry to interrupt what must be an important and, by the looks of it, very professional meeting. But Amelia has her ballet lesson in about five minutes, and she refuses to do her pirouettes when her cousins are there to distract her.”

  “I don’t blame her.” Marcus winked at his niece, then shot his sister a warning look. “Obnoxious family members getting all up in your business are the worst.”

  Steering her daughter toward the door, Dahlia paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Hey, Violet. Tessa and Finn are coming by Big Millie’s for happy hour this evening if you need a girls’ night out.”

  “Can we come?” Jordan asked his aunt.

  “Then it wouldn’t be a girls’ night out.” Dahlia wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe your dad could take you guys to get a slushy at the Mighty Mart, instead. He looks like he could use a bit of cooling down.”

  When their aunt had left the office, Jack turned to Marcus. “But I wanna go with Violet to happy hour.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I’m going yet,” Violet replied before Marcus could. “I have a lot of work to do.”

  “To keep Uncle MJ out of Daddy’s jail?” Jordan asked.

  “That’s right,” Violet nodded.

  The back of Marcus’s throat vibrated as he swallowed down a frustrated groan. “For the record, I’m trying to keep Uncle MJ out of my jail, too. And any future jails. By teaching him a lesson.”

  “You mean like when Coach makes us run extra laps when we mess up at soccer practice?” Jordan asked.

  “Yeah, kind of like that.”

  “How does that teach you not to mess up?” Violet’s smooth forehead, the one he’d just pressed his own against, creased with confusion. “It seems like it would only make you tired and prone to make more mistakes.”

  Marcus shook his head. “But if there aren’t consequences for your actions, what’s to stop you from making the same mistakes over and over again?”

  “How about having a patient coach or mentor or maybe even...oh, I don’t know—” Violet dramatically shrugged her shoulders “—say, a big brother who guides you and steers you in the right direction?”

  “So this is my fault?” Marcus crossed his arms across his chest and tried to ignore the way her eyes widened at his biceps. Remembering her earlier admission, he flexed his muscles slightly. “I’m supposed to be babysitting MJ, in addition to dealing with the rest of my family’s antics? All while working sixty-plus hours a week at my job and raising my kids on my own?”

  Violet’s gaze snapped back to his face. Possibly at the reminder that he was a single dad. “Nobody said babysitting.”

  “Keegan’s mom did,” Jordan announced out of the blue. “At the bake sale, I heard her tell the other parents that you needed to hire a real babysitter so you could go out with a real woman like her.”

  Violet arched a brow at Marcus, and he resisted the urge to tug at his collar as he explained, “Their friend Keegan’s mom has been very determined lately to get me to join this little group she formed called Single Socials. It’s not really my scene, though. Just in case you thought it was.”

  “From what MJ tells me, you don’t have much of a social scene at all.” Violet smirked, and Marcus silently cursed his baby brother for opening his big mouth.

  “I told Ms. Parker we didn’t need a babysitter because we weren’t babies,” Jack said, while balancing on his knees in his father’s office chair and spinning fast in circles. “But then she said that all grown-ups need to spend alone time with other grown-ups.”

  “You’re a grown-up and a real woman,” Jordan told Violet. “Maybe you should spend alone time with my dad.”

  After the DM-sliding conversation the other night, Marcus should’ve been immune to his sons’ embarrassing announcements. He wasn’t. And neither, apparently, was Violet. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened and closed several times as her face went nearly crimson. Ha. That’s what she got for implying that he needed to socialize more.

  “Actually, uh, your father and I, uh, have already spent plenty of alone time together for the day,” she finally managed.

  Marcus’s mind immediately skipped back to the kiss that had been interrupted when the boys had arrived. He cleared his throat and added, “In fact, it’d probably be better if we didn’t spend any alone time together at all.”

  Her head gave the slightest twitch, as though his words had stunned her. Hell, he’d stunned himself with the harshness of his statement. But the truth was that he couldn’t trust himself around her. And if he wanted to keep her at a distance, then it was better that he maintain some sort of battle line between them.

  “You’re probably right.” Violet’s smile was polite, but her eyes held a note of calculation. “After all, I already accomplished what I came here to do.”

  She said goodbye to the twins and was gone for a full five minutes before Marcus realized he’d might’ve just been played. It was two hours later when he confirmed it.

  Marcus had been so distracted by Violet’s visit to his office, he’d driven the boys home without remembering to stop at the grocery store. He was standing in front of the still-empty fridge contemplating going to the bunkhouse for dinner when his cell phone rang.

  “So I just had an interesting chat with defense counsel in your brother’s case.” Reed Nakamoto, the prosecutor who hadn’t shown for the meeting earlier today, jumped right into it. “I thought you said she was your ex-girlfriend.”

  “I don’t think I said either way.” At least not to Reed or to anyone else. But small-town news traveled fast. “Why? What’s up?”

  “Well, Miss Cortez-Hill seems to think that you and she have some kind of understanding. That you’re on the same page and don’t want me calling Kendra Broman as a witness.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call it the same page.” Marcus swung the fridge door closed, annoyed that he didn’t even have so much as an expired bottle of beer in there. “Violet made some good points about the damaging effects it could have on Kendra if she has to suffer an embarrassing cross-examination.”

  Reed tsked. “I told you from the get-go that there was a lot of potential for conflicts of interest in this case, Marcus. You insisted we treat your brother the same way we would treat any other defendant and not give him any special favors. So I’m going to insist that you don’t do any more favors for your pretty little girlfriend without running them by me first.”

  “I didn’t do anyone a favor, and I didn’t agree to anything. She came to see the body-cam footage, a meeting that you were supposed to attend, by the way.” If Reed had been there, there definitely wouldn’t have been any heated looks or make-out sessions.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I ran int
o Judge Calhoun at Biscuit Betty’s, and a group of us headed over to the rec center for a game of three on three.”

  So the DA shooting hoops with the judge in the case wasn’t considered a conflict of interest, but the sheriff meeting with the defense attorney in a county office was? Small-town boundaries were more of a suggestion than a written rule, but the man was right. Marcus had always done things by the book, and he didn’t appreciate anyone suggesting the hint of impropriety. Even if the one doing the suggesting was doing the same thing or worse.

  Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Anyway, Miss Cortez-Hill brought up not needing Kendra’s witness testimony, and I didn’t agree or disagree. That was the gist of our meeting.”

  Well, that wasn’t exactly it. Other things had happened in that office, as well, but Reed didn’t need to know all of that.

  “Okay, good. Just between you and me, the defense counsel is probably right. In this instance. But we need to be careful with these big-city attorneys coming into town and sweet-talking us into deals.”

  “Nobody’s sweet-talking me, Reed.”

  Marcus’s fingers were gripping the cell phone so hard, it was a wonder the thing hadn’t snapped in half before he could disconnect the call. Normally, he was proud of his department’s three-year record for not having any complaints or lawsuits filed against them due to deputy misconduct. He wasn’t about to have his ethical standards called into question because his ex-girlfriend had distracted him before going over his head to get what she wanted.

  Right now, he needed a burger, he needed a beer and he needed to have a few words with Violet Cortez-Hill, Esquire.

  “Come on, boys,” Marcus called down the hallway, grabbing his coat. He might have to forego the beer since he didn’t want to waste time changing out of his uniform. “We’re gonna go to Aunt Dahlia’s and crash the girls’ night out party.”

  * * *