Not Their First Rodeo Read online

  Marcus rolled his eyes. “Then maybe MJ should have picked a more convenient time to polish off a liter of vodka before trying to make it to second base with Deputy Broman’s daughter.”

  “Allegedly,” someone said in the doorway behind Marcus. He turned to find Violet following his aunt Freckles into the kitchen, and his adrenaline spiked at the sight of his ex-girlfriend.

  Her jet-black hair was in a high ponytail on top of her head, and her beautiful face didn’t have a trace of makeup, causing her to appear just as young and carefree as she had been all those years ago when they’d naively thought they’d be together forever. However, her professional tone and the adversarial squaring of her shoulders reminded him that she was all grown up now and clearly ready to go to battle against him.

  “Excuse me?” he asked, realizing too late that he should have kept his mouth shut.

  “My client allegedly drank vodka with Deputy Broman’s daughter. Although, he might be willing to stipulate to the circumstances surrounding the second-base allegation, since it will prove that the arresting officer had questionable motives for making the arrest in the first place.”

  So that’s how she wanted to play this. Marcus drew in a deep breath, trying to ignore the unexpected sting of betrayal. Unfortunately, he opened his mouth once again before his emotions were completely under control. “I’m not shocked that an attorney would twist the facts to their advantage. What’s shocking is that my mom got you to agree to this.”

  “You can call it twisting the facts.” Violet lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and he noticed she was wearing the same clothes she’d had on yesterday. “I call it a fair trial, something everyone is entitled to under the United States Constitution. There’s this little part in there called the Sixth Amendment, which guarantees all defendants a right to an attorney. Even when those defendants are little brothers who piss you off.”

  Marcus felt his nostrils flare as he expelled a frustrated breath. “I never said MJ doesn’t have a right to a fair trial. Or to a lawyer. I just don’t see why it has to be you.”

  “Because if you were arrested, Marcus, you would want the best representing you.”

  “The best?” Marcus knew she’d always been wickedly smart, but when had she become so presumptuous? Or so full of herself? The Violet he’d once known had been sweet and humble and slightly shy. In fact, she’d been scared to death to tell their parents after they’d sat staring at that positive pregnancy-test stick for what had seemed like days. However, now she was anything but shy—proudly facing off against him in the heart of the King domain, looking like she was ready to start her cross-examination. And apparently he’d somehow managed to land himself in her witness stand.

  She gently clasped her hands in front of her, a tactic he knew was meant to seem disarming, and asked, “You mean to tell me that when you were keeping tabs on me all these years, you never came across my acquittal record at trial?”

  “I wasn’t keeping tabs,” Marcus defended himself. He knew he’d slipped yesterday when he’d made a reference to her living in Dallas and introduced her to the boys as Miss Cortez-Hill. But it wasn’t like he’d actively searched for information about her. “It just so happens that I follow a lot of baseball commentators online, including your dad. It’s not my fault that he posts about you a lot on his social-media page.”

  “Oh, I heard about people doing that online-stalking thing.” Aunt Freckles’s eyes widened knowingly, which caused her unusually long false lashes to flicker against the brightness of her heavy green eye shadow. “They get these fake accounts so they can secretly follow people and snoop around in their business. I think the kids call it catfishing.”

  “I think you mean creeping.” Marcus cringed as he shook his head. “But I wasn’t doing that. Or catfishing, or anything else so desperate.”

  “No one said you were, darlin’.” His aunt tutted through her bright magenta lipstick, then adjusted the cropped lime-green sweater that didn’t quite meet the waistband of her jungle-print yoga pants. The woman had to be pushing eighty, yet had a tendency to dress in tight, revealing clothes that would make most eighteen-year-olds blush. “I was just pointing out to Violet that us single gals always have to be on the lookout for men with bad intentions.”

  “Oh, no, Aunt Freckles!” Violet turned to his aunt before Marcus could further defend himself or his intentions. “I didn’t realize you were single now. I thought for sure you and Uncle Rider were going to get back together.”

  “Why do you care?” Marcus asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance lacing his voice. Of all the things he and Violet should be discussing, this was a topic that could wait a bit longer. “Are you a divorce attorney now, too? Maybe my family can get some sort of group rate.”

  “Nobody has time for your snide comments right now, Marcus.” His mother reached for another biscuit and the butter knife. “Violet needs to go to her room and change so we can get to the courthouse in time for the bail hearing this afternoon. We need to make a strong defensive case right out of the gate so I can get my baby home where he belongs.”

  “It’s more of a formality than a hearing,” he corrected, trying to ignore the muscle ticking beside his eye. In fact, once Judge Calhoun sets the bail amount, Marcus had planned to post the bond himself. That way, MJ would be released to Marcus’s custody, and then he could drive the boy home and have a heart-to-heart talk with him. “Besides, I thought you wanted to keep the arrest out of the media. Having Violet there would only draw more attention to... Wait. Did you just say she was going to her room to change?”

  “Well, I certainly can’t change here in the kitchen,” Violet replied, placing her hand over the wide V of her exposed neckline. Marcus’s eyes drew to the soft, tanned skin there before immediately pushing away the sudden inappropriate thought of her taking off that rumpled black dress.

  “I meant a room here.” Marcus’s muscles flexed instinctively. “At this house?”

  “You know there isn’t a suitable hotel in Teton Ridge,” his mother said, her slight smirk flickering again. “Naturally, Violet is going to be staying with us at the Twin Kings.”

  Freckles clapped her hands together before reaching for an apron. “It’ll be just like old times.”

  “Yeah, except you’re all forgetting that things didn’t end so well back then.” Marcus heard his mother’s angry gasp, as well as a tsk from Freckles. Yet his boots echoed his own annoyance with each angry step across the polished wood floors as he stomped to the door, determined to get as far away from this potential disaster as he could. “And that was back when we were at least on the same team.”

  When he yanked down on the handle to make his escape, his sister, brother and uncle—who’d apparently been pressed against the other side of the door listening—tumbled into the kitchen together.

  Marcus muttered a curse, then strode to his SUV without so much as a goodbye.

  It looked like he and the twins would temporarily be moving into their old cabin on the ranch. Because there was no way he was staying under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend.

  His life was complicated enough as it was.

  Chapter Four

  Violet spent the morning filing paperwork with the Wyoming Bar Association to allow for pro hac vice status so she could temporarily practice law in the state. Since she was licensed in Texas, Roper’s trust and estates attorney in Cheyenne had agreed to act as her local cocounsel, which really just meant that he was vouching for Violet while not coming to Teton Ridge himself.

  Then she texted one of her coworkers who lived in the same condo complex back home, asking her to ship some of Violet’s professional attire to the Twin Kings Ranch so that she wouldn’t have to continue borrowing Sherilee King’s couture designer suits. Although wearing Chanel to the county courthouse might not cause as much scandal as the cheetah-print sequined tube top Freckles had lovingly loaned her this
morning.

  In between all the busy work, Violet had also spent a significant amount of time wondering why she was even going through all this trouble when it was so clear that Marcus didn’t want her there. Not that she cared what Marcus wanted. She wasn’t doing this for him.

  And yet, the more he opposed her presence, the more Violet was determined to stay. So what did that say about her? That she was spoiling for a fight, as well?

  Maybe. Maybe, after all these years without answers, she was.

  Clearly, though, she wasn’t the only one with a chip on her shoulder. There was no way Marcus would’ve responded with such hostility if his mother had hired any other defense attorney. So then, why was he so angry that it was Violet who’d be doing their family this favor?

  Probably because he was harboring some other sort of resentment toward her. The old Violet would have wanted to talk to him, to get to the root of the matter and try to resolve whatever issues were coming between them. But the new Violet had spent the last fourteen years fighting to make herself heard, and she was no longer in the mood to listen. At least not to Marcus, who’d never bothered to contact her after he got out of boot camp to hear what she had to say.

  So now that she was standing behind the defense table inside one of the few courtrooms at the Ridgecrest County Courthouse, Violet was even more annoyed to see her ex-boyfriend on the opposite side of the aisle.

  “Your Honor,” Violet faced the older, gray-haired judge sitting on the bench, “my client is a young man with a promising future and long-standing ties to the community. In fact, he lives in the same house as the sheriff seated behind the prosecutor. Their property is currently under the protection and surveillance of several federal agents, who have been assigned to trail the defendant wherever he goes. Mitchell King Jr. is neither a flight risk nor a danger to the community at large and should be granted bail while he is pending trial.”

  “Miss Cortez-Hill,” the judge said patiently, “the court is well aware of who the defendant is related to and where he lives. In fact, one judge already had to recuse herself from this case because she was the team mom for the defendant’s Little League team ten years ago. So unless the parties are going to file a motion for a change of venue, I’m going to allow bail, as is standard for similar charges. But I’m also going to add a gag order restricting all parties from speaking about the case to the media or anyone else outside of this courtroom. I’m not going to have this esteemed institution turn into a full-blown circus just because of the defendant’s famous family name. If there’s nothing else pending, court is recessed for the day.”

  Judge Calhoun left the bench, his high-top sneakers under his robe suggesting that he was on his way to the rec center to play pickup basketball. At least, that’s what she’d gathered from her earlier meeting with the prosecutor who’d purposely let it slip that he played in the same senior league with the judge and they often traveled to tournaments together.

  This was a small town, and she was the outsider.

  MJ, who had been allowed to change into the clean clothes his mother had brought him, sagged back into his wooden seat as he rubbed the dark shadows under his eyes. “Does this mean I get to go home?”

  “Yes.” Violet nodded at him and then leaned closer as she lowered her voice. “But as long as I’m your attorney, you are going to be staying at home and staying out of trouble. No more drinking, and no more dates with that deputy’s daughter. In fact, consider yourself on quasi–house arrest.”

  MJ jutted his chin across the courtroom at Marcus. “Is that what big brother told you to tell me?”

  “No. That’s what I’m telling you. If I’m going to represent you and put my professional reputation on the line, then you’re going to act like the model citizen that I know your father raised you to be.”

  At the mention of the late Roper King, his tall eighteen-year-old son slouched sheepishly in his chair. But then something sparkled behind his tired eyes. “Is it true that Marcus didn’t want our mom to hire you?”

  Violet could deny it, but it was important to establish honesty in an attorney–client relationship. If she wanted MJ to be honest with her, then she needed to be truthful with him. Besides, she was staying at the family ranch, and he was a smart kid. He’d figure it out for himself soon enough. “That’s correct.”

  “Fine. I’ll do whatever you say as long as it pisses him off.”

  “Whatever is going on between you and your brother is between the two of you.” Violet stacked a file onto her notepad, making a mental note to have her friend send her briefcase, as well. “I’m not going to tell you that you need to get along. But I will strongly warn you that it is not in your best interest to purposely antagonize the man who eats lunch with the district attorney at Biscuit Betty’s every Wednesday.”

  “You’ve been in town less than twenty-four hours, and you already know my schedule?” Marcus asked as he casually planted a hip on the defense table.

  Refusing to let him tower over her from his perch, she stood and collected the leather tote bag she’d borrowed this morning from Tessa. But standing only brought their faces closer together. She gulped before squaring her shoulders. “I make it my business to know everything I can about my opponents.”

  “Really, Violet? Opponents? You make it sound like we’re enemies when, at the end of the day, we both want what’s best for MJ.”

  Now MJ rose to his feet. The teen was taller than Marcus by a couple of inches, but the gangliness of youth was still present in his thinner frame. “What’s best for me is that you stop treating me like a little kid.”

  “Yeah, well, this is what happens to grown-ups when they break the law, MJ.” Marcus stayed comfortably seated, suggesting to his younger brother that he wasn’t the least bit threatened by his height or his irritation. “They go to grown-up court and face grown-up consequences. Welcome to adulthood.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Violet saw MJ’s fist clenching, and she immediately put a calming hand on his tense arm. “MJ, will you please go check on your mother? Someone needs to intercept her before she tries to follow Judge Calhoun out to his car. Let me handle your brother.”

  Sherilee King had never met someone who didn’t soon owe her a favor, and small towns like this were already ripe for issues of alleged impropriety since everyone knew everyone. The last thing she wanted was a hint of any additional scandal. If Violet was going to win a case, she was going to do so on the merits of the case and her arguments—not on any accusations that outside influences swayed the judge.

  MJ gave a tense nod before going after his mother, leaving Violet alone with Marcus.

  “And how exactly do you plan on handling me, counselor?” He crossed his arms across his chest, the bulge of his biceps pushing against the fabric of his tan county-issued shirt. Why did he have to look so damn good in his uniform?

  “It’s a figure of speech, Sheriff. Don’t make it awkward.” She slung the leather straps of her borrowed tote over her shoulder and started walking toward the exit.

  She wasn’t surprised to find Marcus on her heels, holding one of the narrow courtroom doors open for her, as he replied, “Then don’t make this into some sort of battle where one of us has to lose.”

  “This battle between you and MJ was obviously brewing well before I got here.” She held her breath as she squeezed past him, knowing she’d be a goner if any part of her body so much as grazed against his. “So unless you’re following me to offer a sweet deal on behalf of the prosecutor, someone is going to eventually lose. I assure you that it won’t be me.”

  “You may have one of the highest acquittal rates over in Dallas, but even the best criminal defense attorneys can’t win them all.” He must’ve seen the shock on her face when he caught up to her because he added, “You’re not the only one who knows how to research your so-called opponent.”

  The fluttering sensation
in her stomach was probably due to her missing lunch and not the way his eyes drank her in as he admitted that he’d also spent some time this morning researching her. Or at least her court record.

  Luckily, the cool mountain air snapped her back to reality as she stepped outside the courthouse. “At least you can admit that we’re on opposing sides. Just remember that it’s your brother at the center of this fight, Marcus. Not me. When all of this is over, I’ll be back in Dallas with another acquittal under my belt, and you’ll still be here in Wyoming dealing with the fallout of your already strained family relationships.”

  Marcus made an unconvincing harrumph sound. “Unlike some people I know, I’ve never been afraid of challenging my family members. Tell me, Violet, does your mother know you’re staying in Teton Ridge for the foreseeable future?”

  “Look, I know that my mom wasn’t always welcoming to you when we were younger.”

  “She led me to believe you had an abortion, Violet. That’s how badly she wanted to get me out of your life.”

  “Trust me, I have that on my list of things to discuss with her. I will do that in my own time and in my own way.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is this the road you want to go down, Marcus? Because as soon as you challenge someone, they’re bound to challenge you back. Then you’ll have to explain why it was so easy for you to believe her and walk away.”

  “You think I—”

  “Violet!” One of the twins yelled from the sidewalk at the bottom of the concrete stairs. It was Jack, because he shook free of Dahlia’s hand and accidentally stepped on Sherilee’s foot as he rushed by his grandmother to sprint up the steps. Jordan was the rule follower and stayed safely at his aunt’s side, licking a vanilla ice cream cone while sending Violet a happy wave.

  Jack had what looked to be melted chocolate ice cream around his mouth, and Violet tried not to wince as he hurtled into her with a tight hug. Should she hug him back? It wasn’t that she was opposed to physical displays of affection or to chocolate stains. But this was a borrowed suit, and she hadn’t seen a dry cleaner on Stampede Boulevard.