Lawfully Unwed

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  He lifted the glass. “What should we toast to?”

  She circled her fingers lightly around her own glass. “Do we have to toast to anything? We could just give it a pass.”

  “How long has it been since you and I sat down and had a meal together? And I’m not talking about the bar association’s annual dinner.”

  If she really had to, she could calculate it right down to hours and minutes. “A while,” she allowed.

  “All right, then.” He waited until she lifted her glass also. “To old friends and nonexistent cats.”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “You cannot really be serious.”

  His eyes glinted, the green color seeming deeper than ever. “To old friends and unexpected bedfellows.”

  Her cheeks burned. “To old friends and nonexistent cats,” she said crisply.

  He smiled and lightly touched the edge of his glass to hers.

  When she lifted the glass to her lips, she hoped she was the only one who noticed her hand wasn’t entirely steady.

  He sliced the enormous steak into two pieces and pushed one of the slabs onto her plate, then followed it up with half of the grilled vegetables despite her protest that she’d never be able to eat that much.

  His eyes crinkled. “Sure you can.”

  And she did.

  Afterward, when all of the dishes were empty—except the salad bowl, which was still full—they washed up and Nell gave up trying to stave off that sense of companionability. He poured her a second glass of wine while she dried the few plates they’d used and she sipped at it while he put them away.

  And even though she knew she ought to make some move to leave, she kept putting it off.

  He showed her around the rest of his house, consisting of three minimally furnished bedrooms—she barely allowed herself to glance into his—an office that was bigger than her room at the Cozy Night and lined with bookshelves crammed with books, a finished basement that housed a gigantic half-moon of a couch and a television that took up nearly an entire wall, the spectacular deck that surrounded three-fourths of the exterior, of course, and yes, even the guesthouse that did exist, after all.

  The only reason she hadn’t noticed it at first was because it was down a steep hill on the far side of the house, and reached by several steps cut into the hillside.

  “Sun rises there,” he said, gesturing in that direction. “Best view in the world. And you could still use it. No moths last time I checked.”

  She looked from the darkened windows of the small guesthouse to his face. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Archer.”

  He made a soft hmm sound. “You promised to feed the cat.”

  “You’re here. You feed the cat. You won’t even be serious about whether he’s real or not.”

  He dropped his arm over her shoulder. “I’ll drive you back to your car.”

  She tried to refuse but he was adamant. Despite the brilliant moonlight and the bouquet of stars that looked close enough to pluck, it would be too easy to turn an ankle, he said. Too easy to cross paths with a wild animal.

  The drive was short. In a matter of minutes, he came to a stop next to her car, right where she’d left it on the other side of the open gate.

  She pushed open the truck door and slid out onto the ground. “Didn’t see any wild animals,” she told him drily, conveniently ignoring her scare when she thought he was one just a few hours earlier.

  He draped his wrist over the steering wheel as he looked at her. “I don’t want to chance you getting hurt.”

  Too late.

  The words whispered through her mind and had nothing to do with turned ankles or wild animals and everything to do with him.

  She stepped away from the truck. “Good night, Archer. Thanks for the steak.”

  Then she firmly shut the door, climbed quickly into her own car and drove away, grateful that she was the only one who’d ever know the way her heartbeat squiggled around wildly like lines on a canvas.

  Chapter Eight

  Nell pushed through the door at Ruby’s Diner the next afternoon. There was the usual crowd of people waiting for tables alongside the door.

  But the occupant of the stool at the counter whom she’d gotten used to seeing was not there at all and she was so surprised that she stopped right in the doorway.

  And was promptly bumped into from the rear, and everything she was holding in her arms slid right onto the floor. Pages spilled out of her binder and her purse went sliding.

  “Sorry, miss.” The bumper crouched down beside her to help as she scrabbled her belongings together. “Didn’t see your brake lights fast enough.” He gathered up a splayed pile of documents, handing them to her, and she flushed a little.

  He was smiling, dark-haired and ridiculously good-looking.

  “It was my fault,” she said quickly, taking the pages and pushing them every which way between the covers of the binder. She started to straighten but he beat her to it and took her hand, helping her up the rest of the way.

  She flushed harder, more from knowing they’d earned the attention of the diners all around them than because of him. Though he really was attractive. Sort of like an engagingly cute puppy.

  “I’m Nick,” he said. “Nick Ventura.”

  His name surprised her even more. “You’re Vivian’s architect! The one who’s been designing the new library.” Her employer hadn’t said just how young her architect was.

  His smile widened. “Guilty, I’m afraid. And I hope one day the library actually makes it off the page. And you are—”

  “Nell Brewster.” She adjusted her tenuous grasp on her belongings again to stick out her hand. “And I can tell you that she absolutely intends for the library to make it off the page. Vivian hired me to manage the project.”

  He closed his hand around hers, smiling warmly. “Then I’ll have something more to look forward to when she calls for design change five hundred and sixty-two.”

  Nell laughed. “She does have a strong opinion about things that matter to her. I’ve learned that much.” Which was probably the reason why she’d hired an architect before she even had a confirmed location or approval from the town council. “But as it happens, I was going to call you this afternoon. Vivian is having a party this Friday and would like you to do a brief presentation if you’re available.”

  “Have a feeling she’d want me to do it even if I weren’t available,” he said wryly. “But sure. Whatever she needs.”

  “Great. Are you here by yourself or—”

  He shook his head. “I’m meeting my cousin—ah. Over there.” He raised his hand in acknowledgment and Nell automatically glanced over her shoulder to look. A striking woman with graying auburn hair was sipping iced tea while a younger redhead with an animated expression was looking their way.

  It was the red hair that caught Nell’s attention. She remembered seeing the woman in the courtroom with Archer a few times.

  She also remembered the way she’d felt inside witnessing the obviously comfortable way the two related to one another. She’d figured they were involved.

  For all she knew, they still were. He’d said it himself. He dated lots of women. Just because Archer was romancing Judge Potts didn’t mean he wasn’t romancing someone else, too. He’d done it back when Nell had been in law school, after all. She just hadn’t known about it at the time.

  “Then I should clear the intersection,” she told Nick lightly, stepping to one side.

  “Why don’t you join us? April won’t mind—”

  “No, no.” She shook her head. “Thank you, but I don’t want to intrude. And I’m just grabbing a bite. Working lunch, I’m afraid. I’ll email you the details about the party.” She patted her notebook and began sidestepping toward the counter. “I’m glad we bumped into each other.”

  “Best collision I’v
e had all year.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. He was too friendly not to.

  She was still smiling when she slipped into the spot between the cash register and Squire Clay’s empty seat and dumped her notebook and its disheveled contents on the counter.

  Tina immediately greeted her with a wave. “Be with you in a sec, Nell.”

  “No rush,” Nell assured her. She had plenty to keep her busy. She flipped open the binder and began restoring order to it. She’d begun using the notebook to help keep herself organized. She already had sections for fundraising, for construction issues, for permits and approvals. She even had copies of the architectural renderings.

  But the section right now at the front of her binder contained her checklists for Vivian’s cocktail party being held the following day.

  Two items remained unchecked among the dozens of others that were marked off.

  A proper dress for Nell.

  And a confirmed RSVP from Squire Clay. He was the only holdout from the entire council.

  Which was the whole reason she’d come into the diner for lunch in the first place.

  She fit the last page onto the binder rings and snapped them closed, then waited until Tina flipped over her coffee cup and filled it before asking about the man’s whereabouts. “I thought Squire comes in every day.”

  “He does.” Tina glanced beyond Nell’s shoulder and dropped her voice slightly. “But not when she’s here.”

  Nell raised her brows. “When who is here?”

  “Gloria.” Tina’s voice dropped even more. It was nearly soundless. “His wife.” She inclined her head an inch. “She’s in the corner booth over there with her granddaughter, April.”

  The corner booth where Nick was now sitting alongside the older woman. A quick sideways glance confirmed it. Nell lifted her coffee cup and took a sip. “He doesn’t eat here when his wife eats here?”

  “Not since they separated,” Tina said under her breath. “It’s been the talk of the town all summer.”

  Nell felt a stab of sympathy for Squire and his estranged wife. She didn’t like being the subject of “talk” in Cheyenne. She could only imagine how much worse it would be in such a small town like Weaver.

  A peal of laughter erupted from the table in the corner and Nell had to control the urge to look over again. She quickly ordered one of the sandwich specials from Tina before the waitress had to tend her other customers, and flipped to the fundraising section in her binder.

  Aside from several corporate donations that had already come in, there was a healthy amount of money that had been contributed by John and Jane Q. Public. But the amount raised still needed to be significantly higher, so in between refereeing the cocktail party appetizer selection battle between Vivian and Montrose, Nell had been looking into possible grant opportunities.

  There was one in particular being funded by Swift Oil. And even though the CEO of the company had already made a personal donation—one of the first sizable ones, in fact—Nell didn’t see why that should stop her from applying for one of the company’s annual philanthropic gifts.

  She didn’t have a lot of experience with grant writing, but she was willing to try. Swift Oil was headquartered in Braden. The CEO, Lincoln Swift, obviously already recognized that the residents in his town would also benefit by an expanded library in Weaver. She had most of the statistics ready but writing the narrative would take some time. And time wasn’t in great supply since the deadline for grant applications to even be considered was tonight at midnight.

  She’d printed off the lengthy application on Vivian’s printer and had managed to read through it once.

  She believed she could get it done in time, but it would be close. And if the library were fortunate enough to win the grant, it would all be for naught if the town council still couldn’t agree that it should even be built.

  Tina stopped long enough to deliver Nell’s sandwich and top off her water glass.

  “Where does he—” Nell leaned her head toward the empty seat beside her “—go on days like today when he’s avoiding the diner?”

  Tina thought about it for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t think he goes anywhere. He’s probably at home.”

  “Where’s that?”

  For a moment, Tina looked surprised. “I keep forgetting that you’re not from around here.” She glanced toward the corner booth and lowered her voice again. “The Double-C Ranch,” she said.

  Nell had heard of the ranch, but that didn’t mean much. She’d also heard of the Squawking Turkey, too, only to discover the apartment it had offered to rent was little more than a glorified chicken coop. “Can you tell me how to get there?”

  “Sure.” Tina pulled out a napkin and quickly swiped her pen over it, drawing a few intersecting lines. “Head that way out of town.” She jerked her thumb to the left. “Be careful when you take the turnoff. The road is graded but it’s still gravel. Once you’re off the highway, you’ll see the ranch entrance. It’s huge. But you’ll know you’re on the right track.”

  “Thanks.” Nell tucked the impromptu map in her binder and delved inside her purse for her wallet. “Mind wrapping up the sandwich for me, and adding a meat loaf sandwich, as well?”

  In answer, Tina whisked away the plate and returned a few minutes later with the two sandwiches neatly packaged. She tucked them inside a paper bag that she handed to Nell. “I don’t know why you’re so anxious to see him, but good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Leaving enough cash for the bill and tip on the counter for Tina, she gathered everything up and hurried toward the door.

  From his spot in the corner, Nick caught her eye but she didn’t linger long enough to do more than return his smile with a quick one of her own.

  Following Tina’s instructions proved simple enough and before long she was driving though the Double-C entrance, while a cloud of dust billowed behind her in her rearview mirror.

  When she finally reached a circular drive that fronted a long, rambling house, the dust clung to every inch of her car. Even though she’d quickly closed her car windows, she felt as if she had dust clinging to every inch of her, too.

  With the bag from the diner in hand, she left everything else in the car and approached the massive wooden door at the top of several shallow steps.

  She was quickly realizing that the Double-C Ranch wasn’t just some regular old cattle ranch.

  Not if the outbuildings she could see and the number of vehicles parked around them were any indication. They all bore the same brand that had been burned into the timbers of the ranch entrance.

  She used the heavy iron knocker on the door because there didn’t seem to be a doorbell. But she eventually had to accept that nobody was coming to answer.

  Chewing the inside of her lip, she went back down the steps and started off toward the buildings with all of the vehicles parked outside.

  When she reached the first one, she found it to be an office of sorts, with three young women sitting at computers. None of them knew where Mr. Clay might be.

  She didn’t want to admit defeat. But it was disappointing, even though she’d had no guarantee that he’d be at home.

  She left the sandwiches with the girl named Melody, whose desk was closest to the open door of the office. “If you do see him, would you tell him this is from his seatmate Nell at the diner?”

  “Sure.” Melody didn’t seem surprised by the request or anything else where Nell was concerned. She turned her attention back to her computer screen before Nell even turned to leave.

  Rather than drive back into town, Nell went to Vivian’s place. She parked in the courtyard as usual, but instead of going through the side door there, she circled around to the backside of the house and entered through one of the patio doors where she’d be less likely to run into Montrose.

  In that, at least, she was successful.
She made it up the stairs in the atrium to the second floor and slipped into the small office she’d taken over not far from where Vivian’s was located.

  Nell’s office didn’t look out over Rambling Mountain the way that Vivian’s did. In fact, she didn’t have any windows at all.

  It was still nicer and more spacious than the cramped quarters she’d occupied at Pastore Legal and there was even an elegant little powder room right next door.

  She propped her elbow on the fancy wooden table she was using as a desk and cupped her cheek. She needed to stop thinking about what had been and keep her focus on what was.

  A fine idea if she could only manage to follow it consistently.

  The phone ringing at her other elbow was a welcome distraction. She answered it with one hand while she pulled a pen from the crystal bowl she’d pressed into service to hold a dozen pens and pencils. She was a little concerned that it might be Lalique or Baccarat crystal, but assumed it wasn’t since it had been just sitting around in the conservatory—Vivian actually used that term for her plant-filled sunroom—holding a few cups of potting soil.

  “Nell Brewster speaking,” she said briskly, then winced a little because that was the way she’d answered the phone at Pastore Legal. And if the caller was a client, she’d immediately begun timing the conversation. Billable hours and all that.

  “Thank you for the sandwich.”

  Squire Clay. Surprise made Nell sit up straighter. “You’re welcome.” So the sandwich actually had made its way to the man. Melody and her compatriots hadn’t seemed overly concerned that it would. “How, uh, how did you know to reach me here?”

  “Small town,” he said as if that explained it all.

  She spun her chair around to stare at the narrow span of wall behind her. There was nothing hanging on it. No artwork. No paintings. She might have repurposed the dirt bowl, but she didn’t have enough nerve to commandeer anything else.

  She doubted Vivian would care, but Nell wasn’t so sure about Montrose. She had no desire to earn his wrath.