Courting Trouble Read online

  “If only,” Sylvia said, her words accompanied by a slow and nearly imperceptible head shake. She took a deep breath and tilted her head to the side. “You’re going to wish that was the problem.”

  *

  Life didn’t go as planned.

  Cade sipped coffee from his travel mug and steadied the pickup’s steering wheel with his knee. Once upon a time, Cade had escaped Powder Springs for a world-class legal career, a beautiful woman, and the biggest city in America, but now the career, the city, and the woman were gone.

  He slowly drove through downtown Powder Springs. Pine trees jutted toward the bright blue Colorado sky in the tiny park that surrounded the Powder Springs Courthouse. He tapped his brakes at the stop sign at the corner of Main and First and turned right. Red and blue flashers lit up his rearview mirror and a siren wailed. Cade pulled to the right to allow the cop to pull past, but instead the SUV remained glued to Cade’s tail.

  “Are you kidding?” Cade mumbled. He pulled to a stop in front of the courthouse and across from his office. He rolled down his window. This had to be a joke.

  Already scribbling on his ticket pad, Wayne approached. “Morning, Cade,” Wayne said. “License and registration.”

  “What exactly did I do?” Cade bit out. “And second, you know exactly who I am.”

  “First, you ran that stop sign at Second and Main—”

  “Ran the stop sign! Are you blind? I stopped. Not only did I stop, I came to a complete stop. What’s the problem, Wayne—”

  “—and second,” Wayne continued, undeterred, “I need your license and registration.” He set his lips in a grim line to emphasize his command, yet his eyes twinkled with a mischief that indicated this traffic stop might be the high point of his day. “Please.”

  Locked in a stare-down with Wayne, Cade finally broke his gaze and leaned across the seat. There was no way of talking Wayne out of this ticket. He opened the truck dash and dug through unused fast-food napkins, sugar packets, and receipts. Beneath a plastic fork his hand finally landed on the truck’s registration. He handed the paper to Wayne without a glance. Cade slid his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out his license.

  Wayne’s eyes drifted from the registration to Cade’s license, now clipped to the top of his ticket pad. “This is from New York.”

  “That’s where I live.”

  Wayne’s eyes traveled upward and met Cade’s squinted eyes, hot with irritation, “Live? Or lived? You’ve been in Powder Springs for nearly a year.”

  “Against my better judgment, yes. Yes, I have.” Cade drew a deep breath and willed the tension that gripped his shoulder blades to release. “And your point?”

  “You have six months once you move to change your license. That’s another ticket.”

  The muscle tightness gripped harder and sent a hot jet of pain from Cade’s shoulders down his spine.

  “If you bring in your Colorado license to your court date, the judge will dismiss the ticket.”

  Cade held his breath, his eyes settled on Wayne as he continued to write out tickets. Cade fought back his desire to reach out the truck window and strangle Wayne. He’d forgotten to change his license, or perhaps he’d hoped there would be no need—that he would in fact return to New York.

  “Looks like your New York license is expired.”

  “Three’s the charm.” Cade held out his hand for his paper bouquet. Not only did he have a mountain of legal work on his desk at the law firm but he’d also acquired his own legal mess. Cade started to stuff the tickets into the truck dash on top of the plastic fork.

  “You’ll need to get your things and step out of the truck.”

  A jolt of surprise barreled through Cade’s chest. He whipped his head around to face Wayne. “You want to frisk me?”

  “You can’t drive.” Wayne pulled open Cade’s door. “Give me your keys.”

  “Who says I can’t drive? These,” Cade said, shaking the tickets still clamped in his fist, “are the first tickets I’ve gotten in fifteen years.”

  “Your license isn’t valid.”

  The temporary gratification Cade might feel at slugging Wayne was outweighed by the inconvenience of spending an entire day in jail. He grabbed his briefcase and stepped out of his truck before handing Wayne his keys.

  “Go get your license, then come by the jail and I’ll give you your keys.” A hint of remorse reverberated in Wayne’s thick voice, although the corners of his mouth turned up with a barely contained smile that seemed to say ‘gotcha.’

  “I’m supposed to meet with a client in forty-five minutes.”

  “Then you might want to hustle up.” Wayne lumbered toward his SUV. “DMV opens in ten minutes.”

  Cade’s entire morning had just become one big hassle.

  “This is how you treat your brother?” Cade yelled.

  “Half brother,” Wayne called. “Just think what I’d do to you if we had the same dad.”

  *

  “I leave in an hour.” Tulsa’s tone was staccato and bore little emotion—no judgment, no remorse—only the conveyance of her intent to her two partners.

  “This is a horrible time for you to leave.” Jo leaned against the credenza in Tulsa’s office. Her face was placid and her voice calm, but a tension underscored Jo’s words. A tension akin to a lioness ready to spring for her prey.

  “This is family.” Emma settled onto Tulsa’s office couch and slipped off her periwinkle-blue kitten heels. She tucked her bare feet beneath her and brushed back a tendril of blond hair from her cheek. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

  Jo searched the room with her eyes as if trying to find reason within the room. “We’ve got five new cases coming our way and two of them are heaters, not to mention our regular case load—”

  “It’s Tulsa’s family,” Emma interrupted and this time she emphasized the F word. “Jo, you have three sisters and two brothers; you know about family.”

  Jo tilted her head to the side and let her gaze glance across the ceiling, her irritation palpable. The shrug of her shoulder indicated that she finally acknowledged Tulsa leaving for Powder Springs wasn’t by choice, but an obligation.

  This was a tough one for Jo. After a decade as an assistant district attorney, she was all business, all the time—well, nearly all the time—she had a definite soft spot where Emma and Tulsa and her own family were concerned.

  “Sylvia sent both of you memos about my court appearances for the next couple of—”

  “Emma’s right.” Jo’s eyes were softer, friendlier. “We can handle it. We will handle it. What do you think? A couple of days?”

  Tulsa caught Jo’s hopeful gaze. She wasn’t sure how long Savannah and Ash needed her in Powder Springs, but it was definitely more than a couple days.

  “Weeks,” Tulsa said, “maybe even a month.”

  A grimace breached the stone wall of Jo’s face. “A month?”

  “We’ll handle it,” Emma said.

  Although they were all around the same age and friends since law school, Tulsa had started the firm and then came Emma and finally Jo. Less prickly than Jo and more savvy than Emma, Tulsa always handled the high-profile cases and the media.

  Full of purpose, Sylvia rushed into Tulsa’s office. A red leather laptop bag bounced against her hip and in her hand she carried a file.

  Tulsa’s stomach collapsed with the block of dread now wedged in the pit of her belly. How could she maintain her practice and save her family? She wanted to help Savannah, she wanted to save Ash, she wanted to be a good sister and devoted aunt, but she didn’t want to go to Powder Springs, Colorado, to accomplish these goals.

  “I loaded your laptop with everything you need.” Sylvia reached out and hitched the laptop-case strap over Tulsa’s shoulder. “Basically, your entire office is on this computer.”

  “Well not everything,” Tulsa said.

  “What do you mean? I put—”

  “—I mean you, Sylvia.” Tulsa gathered her friends i
nto her gaze, “You, and Emma, and Jo.”

  “Savannah and Ash need you,” Emma said. “We’ll be fine.”

  Tulsa appreciated Emma’s compassion and reassurance, she even appreciated Jo’s pragmatism and realism, and she especially appreciated Sylvia’s organization and dedication. Right now, though, what she didn’t appreciate was being yanked out of LA to clean up her sister’s mess.

  “Did you get the pleading for Ash’s custody case?”

  “That,” Sylvia said, waving the one file she held in her hand, “is a bit of a problem.” She flipped the file open for Tulsa. “I’ve been on the phone with the clerk in the Powder Springs Courthouse for two hours and so far they’ve only managed to fax me the signature page for the pleadings.”

  “Who’s the attorney?” Tulsa tilted her head toward the page.

  Which small-town bumpkin practicing in Powder Springs had agreed to represent Bobby Hopkins, a deadbeat dad who hadn’t been a part of her niece’s life? Her eyes fluttered down the page to the signature line.

  Her heart quickened in her chest and blood thundered through her head. What the hell? Tulsa peered more closely at that giant C and M that ate up the line dedicated to opposing counsel’s signature. A clamminess chased by a tingle spread from her fingertips to her palms.

  “Cade Montgomery.” Her mind spun and her chest tightened with his name on her lips. How could Cade represent Bobby Hopkins? He was married and he lived and practiced in New York.

  “You know him?” Sylvia asked.

  “I thought I did,” Tulsa whispered. The Cade Montgomery that Tulsa knew wouldn’t subject her or her family to any more pain—especially pain doled out by his family. A tangled knot of emotions pulled tighter in Tulsa’s chest. “We went to school together.”

  Describing her relationship with Cade Montgomery by saying “We went to school together” was akin to saying Romeo and Juliet were childhood friends. She ran her tongue over her lips and breathed—she willed her heart rate to a more normal speed, willed the pounding in her head to cease.

  Tulsa’s teeth bit into her bottom lip. She didn’t want to be opposing counsel in a case where Cade Montgomery represented Bobby Hopkins. She didn’t want to be in the same town as Cade Montgomery. Hell, she didn’t want to be in the same state.

  “You better go,” Sylvia said. “You’ve got twenty minutes to get to LAX.”

  Sylvia’s words yanked Tulsa back to the present. She grabbed her bag and shifted the laptop case higher on her shoulder. Her eyes drifted around her office, across the faces of Jo and Emma and Sylvia. The faces of her colleagues and three best friends. There was compassion on their faces and also steely resolve. Tulsa’s heart pitched forward. This was her support network—this was the family she’d built for herself in Los Angeles—and now she would be so very far from all of them.

  Emma rose from the couch. “We’re here when you need us.” She encapsulated Tulsa in a hug. Jo nodded her head—her hard-faced demeanor looked as if it might crumble.

  “Morning meeting, Skype?” Tulsa steadied her voice in an attempt to quash the unchecked emotions bouncing around the room.

  “Every day,” Sylvia said.

  Tulsa turned and walked out her office door, toward the front of McGrath, Phillips, & Lopez. At this moment what Tulsa really wanted was to prepare for a settlement conference, a deposition, even a motions hearing, anything that she might do on a normal day. She wanted to pretend that Ash’s custody case wasn’t real. Pretend that Bobby wasn’t trying to take Ash. Pretend that Savannah hadn’t gotten arrested for firing a shotgun. Even pretend that Cade Montgomery, the only man she’d loved and the son of a man who’d shattered her life, wasn’t attempting to destroy her sister and niece.

  But today wasn’t normal. There would be no depositions, no client meetings, no denial. Not today. Because, today—whether Tulsa wanted to or not—today, Tulsa McGrath would return to her hometown of Powder Springs, Colorado.

  Chapter Three

  After a full day’s work, a one-hour trip to the DMV, and a full hour at the Yampa Valley impound lot, Cade—with his new Colorado license in hand—was finally settled into his truck. He rolled down the window and listened to the melodic sound of rubber slapping pavement. Cool air blew into the cab and River of Love drifted in and out over the radio.

  Cade breathed deep and mountain air filled his lungs. He tilted his head to the right and breathed into the iron-fisted knot deep in his neck. He rolled his shoulder up and back. The grip of stress relaxed and finally surrendered.

  Once George Strait finished crooning, fuzz took over his radio and Cade pushed the buttons, looking for a signal. He’d entered a dead zone high above any kind of tower. He rounded the curve on Yampa Valley Road and a stand of aspen, their leaves just beginning to turn gold, glittered in the sun. Beyond the cluster of white-barked trees, he spied an SUV on the side of the road with its hood up. He didn’t recognize the car and guessed some tourist leaned over the engine of the silver Durango.

  Cade pulled to a stop and got out of his truck.

  “Need some help?” he called and walked around the front of the disabled vehicle.

  When Cade’s gaze landed on full curves, fair skin, a tiny tipped nose and head full of untamed curls, his heart stuttered. A jolt whizzed through his body like he’d just cut an electrical cord with a pair of metal clippers. Tingles burst through his spine and consumed his arms and legs.

  He hadn’t seen Tulsa in nearly twenty years and still the impact of her body, her face, her presence, was immediate and intense. A silken heat coiled deep in his belly and followed the bolt of electricity down his legs. Desire. Desire mixed with anger. He wasn’t a teenaged kid anymore. Cade was now old enough to know when a woman was bad news for a man, and Tulsa McGrath was nothing but trouble for him.

  “Cade.” Tulsa didn’t smile. Her voice was cool. Gone were all the emotions that used to glide transparently across her face. Her innocence replaced by the even-toned, flat-faced demeanor of a litigation jockey.

  He wrapped his arms across his chest and cocked one hip. “You never did have much luck with cars.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Anger flashed in Tulsa’s voice.

  Cade didn’t feel a bit bad about causing her hackles to rise. Let her stew in a little bit of temper. After what she did to his heart, she damned well deserved it.

  “You don’t remember that old Buick your Grandma gave you to drive? The silver one that spit oil and wouldn’t start if it got below fifty degrees? Which meant it only started in July.”

  Tulsa’s eyes slowly traveled over Cade’s face and then her gaze drifted toward the ground. She revisited a memory she’d not pulled up in years. “I do remember that car.”

  Cade remembered the Buick too, especially the back seat as big as a king-sized bed.

  “Let me give you a ride.”

  “No thanks.” Tulsa slammed the hood of her rental.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” Tulsa yanked open the driver-side door and pulled out her cell phone from her purse.

  “You won’t get any reception,” Cade rested his arm on the top of the SUV’s open driver-side door. “We’re higher than the tower.”

  She pressed the phone to her ear. The sharp tone indicating no service beeped from the phone and Tulsa’s jaw muscle flinched. The tiniest crease formed between her eyebrows. Damn, she’d gotten good at hiding her emotions. The Tulsa that Cade once knew would have cut loose a string of expletives, but instead this older glamour-girl tossed her phone into her purse and crossed her arms over her chest. The crease between her brows remained and Cade’s heart softened with the picture of a flummoxed Tulsa—she was particularly cute when irritated.

  “You’re just going to sit here?”

  “I’m not riding into town with a traitor.” She said the last word slowly and softly—her tone filled with the disappointments of the past and the retributions of the present. Her face remained
settled, the crease between her brows evened out but her eyes—her eyes flashed temper and betrayal and Cade even thought he saw a hint of sadness.

  Cade kicked a piece of gravel toward the road. In the west the sun hung low in the sky, hovering just above the dark outline of the Rockies. Once the giant orb sank behind the mountains, a bitter chill would bite into the air and a cold wind would whip through this flatland pass.

  Let Tulsa think what she wanted—he wasn’t a traitor—he was an officer of the court with a responsibility to the judge, but he’d rarely won an argument with Tulsa McGrath before and he doubted he could win one today.

  Cade backed toward his truck, his eyes still locked on Tulsa. “Hope you remember how cold it gets in the Rockies once the sun goes down.” He pulled open the cab door.

  Frustration curled inside his chest, an unwanted creature that rested just above his belly. She was a woman alone on a highway—but that wasn’t his problem. He slammed his door shut. Let her cute little butt freeze.

  He grasped the steering wheel. It might be hours before another car drove by on this highway and well after dark, late at night even. His jaw tensed. She sat in the driver-side seat of her rental, the door still open, her gaze locked on him and his truck. A look that seemed to say “Go, I don’t care. I don’t need you, Cade, and I never did.”

  He tore his eyes away from her stone-faced stare. Anger burrowed upward from his belly and tightened behind his ribs. His fingertips found the keys in the ignition. Served Tulsa McGrath and her bad attitude right. Her car trouble wasn’t his problem. Cade’s responsibility to Tulsa had ended the day she ditched him for LA.

  Cade fired up the engine, pressed the accelerator, and gravel ripped out from under his rear tire. He glanced in the rearview mirror as Tulsa’s lame vehicle grew smaller with each slap of rubber on pavement. Then it hit Cade—the thought of his mother—what would she say about Cade leaving a woman stranded just before dark on the side of the road?

  “Dammit to hell.”

  Cade yanked the wheel of his truck and performed an illegal U-turn. He might be angry with Tulsa, he might think Tulsa was a pain in the ass, he might go so far as to say Tulsa deserved to sit alone on that long lonely hardtop cutting down the center of the rocky mountains, but his mother taught him better than to leave a woman on a long stretch of two-lane highway with only a half hour of daylight. There wasn’t a woman in the world that could make him mad enough to be that big of an ass—not even Tulsa.