Not Their First Rodeo

by Christy Jeffries

  After leaving Marcus’s office, Violet had gone straight to the tiny one-room law library in the basement of the courthouse building. The phone reception down there must’ve been terrible because her phone pinged to life with notifications as soon as the elevator doors opened onto the lobby floor two hours later.

  The first voice mail was from her mom. She could listen to that later. She tapped on the screen to hear the second message, which had just come in fifteen minutes ago. “Hi there, Miss Cortez-Hill. It’s Reed Nakamoto calling you back again. Listen, I just got off the phone with Sheriff King and, as much as I’m willing to cut young MJ a deal and avoid a trial, I just don’t think I’m gonna be able to get the sheriff on board. Let’s talk more tomorrow and see if we can find some common ground.”

  It could be that Reed was just that bad at plea deals, trying to play the good cop to Marcus’s bad cop. Or it could be that Marcus was seriously being this stubborn. Probably it was a little bit of both. Either way, she wasn’t in favor of any deals that didn’t include the dismissal of all charges. And if she could ever get Marcus and the district attorney in the same room together, she’d tell them both exactly that.

  Clenching her jaw in frustration, Violet was really in no mood to deal with her mom’s message at the moment. Yet as she shoved open the heavy door leading outside to the courthouse steps, she couldn’t stop the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. That there might be some sort of accident or emergency, since her mother usually only texted between their weekly calls. Sighing, she put the phone back to her ear.

  “Hey, angel. It’s Mom. I was just thinking that once my campaign kicks off in a couple of weeks, I’m not going to have much time off. What do you think of a girls’ trip? Remember that time we took off and went to Punta Cana? Just the two of us? That was fun.” It was also the first June after the miscarriage, and her mom had known that it would be a difficult time for her daughter since summers had always been a big deal for Violet and Marcus. “Anyway, look at your schedule and get back to my aide, Yvonne, with your availability. Oh, and maybe we should bring Senator Valdivia with us. She has a daughter your age and, coincidentally, has just been appointed chair of the senate judiciary committee. I told her you might be interested...”

  Violet groaned, cutting off the message before the end. Her relationship with her mom was complicated, with equal parts of love and frustration. When Eva Cortez-Hill was being just a “normal mom,” things were great. They could do regular mother-and-daughter things together—shopping, spa days, vacations—and they got along fine. But when her mom was being “the senator,” she was nearly insufferable. The tricky part was knowing when one role was about to switch to the other so Violet could get out in time to save herself.

  The old-fashioned streetlamps had just come on, and looking down Stampede Boulevard, Violet saw the vintage sign for Big Millie’s Saloon in the distance. Yep, she definitely needed a cocktail after today’s events. She also needed to vent to any King whose first name wasn’t Marcus.

  “Hi, Vi.” Dahlia extended arms in welcome from behind the hundred-year-old refinished walnut bar she now owned and ran. “Let me get you a drink as a thanks for helping my baby brother out of his latest scrape with the law.”

  “Much to the annoyance of your big brother,” Violet responded. “He isn’t here, is he?”

  “Not yet.” Tessa smiled and patted the empty seat beside her.

  Violet let out a deep breath as she plopped herself onto a gold leather–covered bar stool. She’d heard that the Wild West–era saloon and former brothel had been fully refurbished, but she was impressed with how Dahlia had managed to make the place seem trendy while keeping the decor true to its historic roots. “In that case, I’ll take a glass of any wine you already have open.”

  Dahlia drew a bottle from under the bar, and Freckles breezed out of the kitchen carrying two double burgers loaded with every possible topping listed on the limited bar menu.

  “Hey, Aunt Freckles,” Violet said, immediately feeling more relaxed at the sight of the older woman’s friendly face. “If I’d known you were here cooking, I would’ve left the courthouse earlier. Did Mrs. King kick you out of her kitchen?”

  “No, darlin’.” Freckles wore a crisp white apron over her tight zebra-print blouse and even tighter jeans. “I needed a break from Rider. That old coot has been getting a bit frisky lately. Trying to prove there’s still a little gas left in his tank, if you know what I mean.”

  Marcus’s three sisters covered their ears, despite the fact that they should’ve been well-accustomed to the older woman’s candid comments.

  “Aunt Freckles,” Dahlia scolded as she lowered her cupped palms, “we can’t unhear those sorts of things.”

  Violet hid her smile behind a large sip of wine while the King women continued to banter. Someone asked where Duke had gone, and she didn’t have the heart to rat their brother out and admit that she’d seen him on her way into the building. He’d been standing outside the heavy oak front door, huddled under his puffy down jacket and quietly arguing with someone on his cell phone.

  Violet’s guest room at the ranch was next to Duke’s, and two nights ago, she’d accidentally overheard him pleading with someone on a video call to let him be the one to tell Tom what had happened. Her interest had obviously been piqued, but then her own phone had rung with an incoming video call from her mom, and she’d spent the next ten minutes strategically holding the camera lens at an angle that wouldn’t give away her location.

  Not that she was keeping her presence on the Twin Kings a secret from her mother. In fact, it could be that her mom already knew something was up and that’s why she’d called again today with the idea for a mother-daughter vacation. Guilt. She was still processing Marcus’s claim about the senator leading him to believe Violet had had an abortion all those years ago, and she wasn’t yet sure how she wanted to confront her mom. Until then, Violet wasn’t going to mention the name Marcus to either of her parents.

  As if her thoughts had summoned the man, Marcus’s twin boys tore through the entrance of Big Millie’s.

  “We’re here for girls’ night,” Jordan said by way of greeting.

  “Will you watch our jackets?” Jack flung their coats at the empty bar stool near Violet, before both boys ran toward the billiards table. Their father was right behind them, still wearing his sheriff’s uniform. His face was drawn tight, his lips pressed together. He was pissed about something and headed straight for Violet. His sisters immediately stood up, as though they intended to intervene.

  Marcus rolled his eyes, shaking his head at their united front. “Now you’ve got my sisters protecting you?”

  “I only need protection from credible threats.” Violet rose to her feet and stepped between Tessa and Finn. “And you, Sheriff King, are no threat.”

  Agent Grayson Wyatt, who was assigned to tail Tessa, appeared out of nowhere and asked, “Is everyone okay over here?”

  Marcus gave a tense nod but didn’t break eye contact with Violet. Her heart thrummed in anticipation of whatever verbal confrontation he’d come to wage. With so many witnesses currently surrounding them, they could engage in a true sparring match and not get sidetracked into another distracting make-out session.

  “You know what this party needs?” Aunt Freckles clapped her hands together so hard Violet feared one of the woman’s false red fingernails would fly off. She pointed at the jukebox that was playing a fast-tempo George Strait song. “Dancing!”

  Freckles, using a surprising amount of strength, shoved Tessa directly into Agent Wyatt’s arms. Dahlia, the only single woman safe behind the bar, had the audacity to smile in amusement.

  “Finn, you go with Agent Doherty,” Freckles continued, and Violet’s blood drained from her face because she knew exactly what was coming next. “And Marcus, you and Violet can talk about whatever you need to talk about on the dance floor.” />
  Talking one-on-one with Marcus was the last thing Violet wanted to do. Standing so close to him as he whirled her around a bunch of barroom tables was even less appealing. Unfortunately, though, she was now stuck doing both.

  The only alternatives would be to fake an injury, which would worry Jordan, who kept glancing in her direction. Or to refuse, which would be the same thing as admitting that Marcus had any sort of effect on her. There was no way she would give him the satisfaction.

  “I thought this was supposed to be a girls’ night out,” she said when they were finally out of earshot.

  “And I thought that you would fight fair,” Marcus replied before spinning her under his arm and deftly pulling her back without missing a step. He was surprisingly more adept at leading her in a fast-paced two-step than he had been during their first waltz at her quinceañera.

  “First of all, why does everything have to be a fight with you?” Before he could answer, she added, “And who are you to decide what’s fair?”

  “Okay, so maybe I phrased that wrong,” Marcus admitted, his jaw tight. “But you showed up at my office looking hot as hell and maybe I’m a little pissed at myself for thinking things could be different when you kissed me like that.”

  When her brain finally processed what he said, he was twirling her under his arm again. She ducked her head for a second spin and accidentally brought her high heel down on top of his boot. He flinched but didn’t stop dancing.

  “I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me.” Violet forced a smile at Jack and Jordan, who waved to her from the billiards table where they were playing pool with a couple of off-duty Secret Service agents. “And how would one kiss make a difference between us? Did you think it would erase everything else that has happened?”

  “That’s another thing. We’ve never even talked about what exactly happened fourteen years ago. Every time it gets brought up, someone interrupts us.”

  “So is that why you’re here?” Violet pivoted on the two count, forcing him to go backward so that she was leading. “You came tearing through those doors all hell-bent on rehashing our past? Because I really don’t think now is the best time to have that conversation with half of your family as an audience.”

  “No, I came here because Reed Nakamoto thinks you sweet-talked me into not calling Kendra Broman as a witness.”

  “The way he tried to sweet-talk Judge Calhoun into extending the preliminary hearing during their impromptu basketball game today? I don’t care how many free shots Reed purposely misses, my motion to dismiss has already been filed.”

  “Was that before or after you made that comment about letting my badge come between us?” Marcus asked, then quickly continued, “Because I might get easily distracted by your kisses, but at the end of the day, I still have a job to do.”

  “I filed it this morning, and how you do your job really isn’t any of my concern. I meant the badge was literally coming between us, Marcus. I could feel the points of your star poking into my boob.”

  Maybe mentioning her breasts was the wrong thing to say right that second, because his eyes dropped to the open lines of her suit jacket where her skin was flushed, rising and falling with each angry breath expanding her rib cage.

  He made a growling sound before quickly looking at something off in the distance. The song on the jukebox changed, but he continued to dance, albeit at a slower pace. She should pull away, but deep down Violet liked the power she had over him. Maybe subconsciously she had been trying to seduce him. She’d certainly thought of it for a split second. But he was also trying to seduce her with the way his forearm locked around her waist and skillfully held her in place against him.

  “I have a serious question,” Marcus said, as though their conversation up until now hadn’t been all that serious. “And it’s a little off topic.”

  Normally, she’d welcome the chance to switch the subject; however, she had a feeling this one wasn’t going to be any less antagonistic. Or personal. But she wasn’t about to back down now. “Go ahead.”

  “What do you think your mom is going to do when she finds out you’re still here with me?”

  “I’m not with you. Why would she think that?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. The judge issued a gag order, and we’ve managed to keep things out of the press so far. But eventually the senator is going to find out you’re here in Teton Ridge.”

  “Of course she’s going to find out. And it won’t be from the press. I’ll tell her when I decide it’s the right time.”

  “Will she make you go home to Texas?”

  “Marcus, I’m a grown woman. I pay my own bills and make my own decisions. Nobody makes me do anything I don’t want to do. Including my mother.”

  He made a scoffing sound. “I don’t know why you’re getting so defensive. You have no problem telling me how I should feel about my family. Hell, you’re being paid to interfere in my relationship with my mom and my brother.”

  Violet shook her head. “I’m not being paid. I agreed to represent MJ pro bono.”

  “Oh, come on. My family has more money than they know what to do with, and public defenders are notoriously underpaid.” He paused a beat, as though he’d just recalled that her family was nearly as wealthy as his. “So what’s in it for you? The chance to get me back for something I never even did?”

  “That’s cute how you think my being here has anything to do with you,” she replied. “I’m simply helping out an old family friend by using my legal expertise and doing what I was trained to do. Pissing you off in the process is just an added bonus.”

  “What an interesting coincidence that your job involves freeing the very same people who break the laws that my job requires me to enforce.”

  “Coincidence? Again, you’re giving yourself too much credit if you think my career choice had anything to do with you. Unlike you, I hadn’t been creeping around on the internet trying to figure out what you did for a living.”

  “I wasn’t creeping.” Marcus’s expression was so insistent, he looked like his sons when they asked for seconds of dessert. “But speaking of what you do, whatever happened to your dream of becoming a prosecutor?”

  “That dream crashed around the same time my dream of becoming a mom was shot down.”

  “You mean when we lost the babies?” His quiet statement caused the righteous air to suddenly whoosh from her lungs.

  She quickly recovered, though. “You say we, as though both of us went through such a traumatic experience together.”

  “Physically, no. Obviously, you had it way worse than me, and now I have to live with the fact that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most. But just because I didn’t know all the circumstances at the time doesn’t mean I didn’t suffer a loss.” Marcus’s eyes seemed to glisten, and his voice grew wobbly but more passionate as he stopped dancing altogether. “Vi, I wanted our babies as much as I once wanted you.”

  Her knees gave out, and she might’ve stumbled if he hadn’t been holding her so firmly against him. She’d been so hurt by the silence all these years that she’d never really considered the possibility that he would’ve been equally upset about losing the babies—the ones that he’d apparently wanted. All this time, Violet had assumed he’d been relieved to dodge the young-fatherhood bullet.

  No wonder he’d made those earlier comments about her relationship with her mom, considering her mother was the one who’d led him to believe the worst. Violet was pretty damn mad at the woman herself. But like she’d told Marcus earlier, she would deal with her mom in her own way. This wasn’t the best time or place to be unpacking all these emotions they’d never fully processed.

  Finn and Duke crashed into them as they attempted an ill-fated swing lift. When had the song changed to a fast-paced one again? And when had Duke come back inside the bar?

  Violet quickly glanced around
the room to see if anyone had been watching their tense exchange. Yep. Several pairs of eyes were, in fact, on them. Including Jack’s and Jordan’s. She cleared her throat and stepped out of his arms. “I think that should be enough dancing to satisfy Aunt Freckles. I’m going to go finish my wine.”

  And maybe a shot of something stronger.

  For the millionth time that week, Violet silently cursed herself for not leaving Teton Ridge when she’d had a chance. She liked it better when she didn’t have to think about running into Marcus King on a daily basis.

  Chapter Seven

  Marcus’s pain-filled words were still playing in Violet’s head later that following week as she set up a temporary workstation inside the unused pool house at the Twin Kings. Not that MJ’s case required that much time or effort since they were still in the pretrial stage. Normally, Violet managed several ongoing cases at once, and most of them involved much bigger charges and stakes. But since she’d taken a personal leave of absence from her job to handle MJ’s case, she had to be in constant communication with the other attorneys in her office who were covering the clients on her caseload.

  Tessa had claimed her father’s old study for research, and Sherilee had set up some sort of public-relations headquarters in the west wing of the house. So that left the glass-enclosed pool house that wasn’t in use during the winter months. The temporary office smelled faintly of chlorine and sunscreen yet had a massive custom-built river-rock fireplace taking up an entire wall. The design was intended to be used during the seasons when the weather allowed for outdoor entertaining, but it worked well for keeping the place heated now that they were well into February.

  Violet moved a few pool noodles off a chaise lounge and fired up her laptop. Of course, the first email she responded to required her to type the word once and she immediately lost her train of thought.

  Once.

  I wanted our babies as much as I once wanted you.

  That’s what Marcus had said to her when they’d been dancing. Clearly, he didn’t want her anymore. Not that she wanted him. Obviously. But it’d be nice if they could at least get along.