All for You

by Moore, Heather B.

  “I really don’t mean to mess with your heart,” she said in a teasing voice, “but your mind is fair game.”

  Nelson groaned. “Just tell me your plans.”

  “How about I tell you my plans after you win tonight’s game?”

  “And if we don’t win,” he said in a slow voice, “will you still tell me your plans?”

  “You really need to be focusing on your upcoming conference-playoff game, Mr. Goaltender,” she said. “If you win, then I’ll let you know.”

  “You’re killing me, babe.”

  “Focus, Nelson, focus,” she said.

  “Then stop being so distracting.”

  She laughed, and Nelson grinned like the fool he was. He’d make sure his team won the game tonight.

  “Okay, I really should go,” she said. “I think my new client just parked in front of the building.”

  “I’m calling you later, and you’d better have the information I want.”

  “Whatever, mobster,” she said, a smile in her voice before they hung up.

  Nelson leaned his head back on the headrest. Maybe he’d be seeing Lindsey a lot sooner than he’d anticipated. He could only hope.

  Three hours later, he was back at the arena. He drove past the line that had already formed at the front doors, with spectators wearing Florida Ducks and Vegas Falcons gear alike. As he climbed out of his truck, he was feeling confident, good, and strong. All where he needed to be in his head.

  Minky’s BMW came through the parking lot, and he made a sharp turn into a space, squealing the tires of his car.

  Nelson shook his head.

  Minky climbed out, a grin on his face. “Did you hear that?”

  “Any time you want to race, I’m in,” Nelson said.

  The two men clapped backs in a bro hug.

  “Well, this is it,” Minky said. “You ready to bring the heat?”

  “More than ready,” Nelson said. “I wish this were the Stanley Cup.”

  Minky laughed. “Yeah, let’s get through the Ducks first.”

  “Quack, quack,” Nelson said.

  They both aimed fake rifles and said “Boom” at the same time. The joke was juvenile, but it still made both of them laugh.

  “Are we expecting a certain female spectator tonight?” Minky asked.

  “Not tonight,” Nelson said.

  “Pouting?” Minky nudged him.

  Nelson shoved him back. “Shut up.”

  Minky laughed and opened the side door that led to the locker room. The security guard stationed inside the door waved them through.

  Minky teased him some more, but Nelson was hardly paying attention. He had to visualize the game and remember all the game film he’d watched on the Ducks. Winning game one of the conference finals would be a good omen for the rest of the games. By the time they’d dressed, gone into Coach’s meeting, then warmed up on the ice, Nelson was more than ready.

  The game was swift and furious, and the Falcons won, three to one.

  The goal that had gotten past Nelson bothered him because it shouldn’t have happened. But Nelson had been a split second too slow with his hockey stick. He knew that he’d remember the image the rest of the night and into the next day, until the Wednesday game would replace it with new images.

  But he was happy for the win.

  “Nice job, man,” Blaine said, slapping him on the shoulder as they headed for the locker room to shower and change. Coach had also commissioned them to go into one of the portals and sign shirts and other fan gear.

  Nelson needed to ice his knee, but if he stayed behind, then Coach would know something was up. So he showered and dressed and went out to sign autographs.

  Anything that would help pass the time before he saw Lindsey again.

  Lindsey didn’t want to get out of bed. Not yet. Her blankets were just the right amount of cozy, and her body felt deliciously relaxed. It might also have something to do with the sweet conversation she’d had with Nelson last night after his team had won their game. Or her reluctance to climb out of bed might come from the fact that Nelson had just texted her again.

  Are you awake yet, beautiful?

  She sighed with giddiness as she read the words. Yeah, Nelson was kind of a sweet-talker, but as long as it was directed toward her, she didn’t mind.

  I’m awake, she texted. I’m surprised you’re not sleeping in. It was 7:30 a.m.

  I guess I’m too excited to sleep.

  Lindsey laughed, knowing what was coming. And why’s that?

  Thinking about you.

  Was it possible to blush over a text? She knew better than to ask him specifically what he was thinking about. She’d confessed that she’d be flying in for game two tomorrow. Are you counting down? she wrote back.

  Yep.

  She hesitated over her reply, her pulse racing. Then she typed, Me too.

  He typed back a smiling emoji, then wrote, Are you going to conference me into your meeting with Dawson?

  Yeah, if you still want me to.

  I do, he wrote.

  This was a new aspect of life for Lindsey, having another person so closely involved with her life. It was nice, yet a little nerve-wracking as well since it only made her feel closer to Nelson, a guy who lived in another state. Okay, we’re meeting at 10 still.

  After texting Nelson, Lindsey got ready for the day, changing into a linen blouse to complement the warming weather in Pine Valley, along with gray slacks and gray high heels. She listened to the news as she pulled her hair into a twist, so when her phone rang, she jumped, not expecting a call so early.

  She picked up her phone but didn’t recognize the number. That wasn’t unusual, especially since she’d changed her number, and she also had a notice out in the Pine Valley paper about her new law office.

  “Hello, this is Lindsey Gerber,” she answered.

  No one answered, but she was pretty sure that someone was on the other end of the line. “Hello, can I help you?” she said, but nothing.

  She muted the television to see if she could hear anything. But everything was quiet, although the prickling hairs on the back of her neck told her the caller was still on. She hung up the phone, then sent Dawson the number to see if he had it saved in his contacts.

  She was mostly ready, so she watered her plants and turned them in front of the bay window. It was something she did every day—turning the plants each morning. Then she left her place, locked the door, and headed to the car she’d bought the week before. A used Acura. She hadn’t needed a car in the city since public transportation was much easier and more convenient. But in Pine Valley, the winters were too cold to rely on walking or biking everywhere.

  Besides, she liked to wear heels.

  Once she reached the office, she returned some phone calls that had come into the main line, then met with a pair of potential clients at nine. They were a newly retired couple who had put together a will years ago, but with changes in their family, they wanted to revamp it.

  The couple was pleasant and easy to talk to, and Lindsey wished all her meetings would go so smoothly.

  By the time ten rolled around, Lindsey was ready for a break. She grabbed a water bottle from the small kitchenette Dawson had set up, then walked to his office. His door was half open, but he was on the phone.

  Lindsey tapped on the door, and Dawson turned, then motioned for her to come inside. So she walked into his plush office and took a seat in one of the soft leather chairs.

  Dawson laughed at something said by the person he was talking to, then he said, “I’ve got to jump into another meeting, so let’s talk tomorrow.” After he hung up, he swiveled fully to look at Lindsey. “I checked that number you sent over, and I don’t have it as a contact in my phone.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it.” Truth was, Lindsey had forgotten about it. “Nelson wants to be conferenced into the meeting so he can hear your report.”

  Dawson’s brows arched, but a smile played on his face. “Is that so?”


  “Yes, that’s so,” Lindsey said, having a hard time keeping back a smile. “He’s being supportive, that’s all.”

  Dawson tapped his pen to his mouth. “And you going to Vegas over the weekend was equally supportive?”

  Lindsey laughed. “It was.”

  Dawson gave her a wink. “He’s a decent guy; you could do worse.”

  “Oh, in that case, I appreciate your vote of support.” Lindsey smirked, then set her phone on the desk, put it on speaker, and called Nelson.

  He answered on the second ring, and after brief preliminaries, Dawson dove into his update and subsequent report. Lindsey had always been impressed with Dawson, but she was even more impressed with his thoroughness. He’d gotten much farther on the case than she’d realized.

  Nelson asked a few questions, and Dawson had the answers.

  “So they pay the asking settlement price,” Nelson asked, “and the firm gets to keep their reputation in place, while Lindsey has to keep the details confidential?”

  “Yes,” Dawson said. “Lindsey will get a good sum of money to invest into her business or whatever she wants.”

  “How does Lindsey staying quiet prevent this kind of stuff happening again or ensure the firm learns its lesson?” Nelson pressed.

  “Great questions,” Dawson said. “I think Lindsey’s the best one to answer.”

  “I don’t have to keep the suit confidential,” she said. “Only the terms of the settlement. The fact that there is a settlement is a big, red, guilty flag pointed at the firm. It’s also meant to pinch them financially so that they’ll hopefully adhere to their own sexual harassment policies.”

  “Is that what you want?” Nelson said.

  “Yes.” Lindsey didn’t hesitate. She’d thought it through from all angles, long and hard. “Taking them to trial could take months, even longer.”

  “What about Paul?”

  “Still on leave,” Dawson said. “I doubt he’ll be returning to the firm, though.”

  Dawson finished up his report, and when they hung up with Nelson, Dawson leaned back in his chair and gazed at Lindsey.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I think you’re amazing,” Lindsey said. “I’ve never seen another lawyer be so thorough and pull things together so quickly.”

  Dawson shrugged. “I take care of my friends.”

  “Well, thank you,” Lindsey said. “It means a lot to me, even though you’ll be getting your cut.”

  Dawson chuckled. “You know, the more I talk to Nelson, the more I like him. I wasn’t so sure at first.”

  “You mean when he almost punched you in the face?” Lindsey teased.

  “Yeah, that wasn’t pleasant,” Dawson agreed with a smirk. “So you’re going to try this long-distance relationship thing out for a while?”

  Lindsey exhaled. “Yeah, I guess. It’s not like he’s going to quit hockey. And there aren’t many pro teams in Pine Valley.”

  “And you?” Dawson asked. “You’re committed here?”

  “I am,” Lindsey said. “But if things keep moving forward, I’ll have a pretty serious decision to make.”

  Dawson raised a brow. “You think he might be the one?”

  Lindsey looked away from Dawson’s probing brown gaze for a second. He was being way too perceptive. But Dawson was a friend, one she implicitly trusted.

  “I don’t know,” Lindsey said finally. “How’s that for an answer? I mean, I’m sort of obsessed with him right now, but is that a good thing?”

  “Well, he likes you, that’s for sure,” Dawson said. “He was asking all the right questions. And in his questions I could hear that he truly cares about you.”

  Lindsey could only nod because she couldn’t speak for a moment. Finally, she said, “Yeah, but that’s what scares me too.” She blew out a breath. “Well, enough of that. Back to work.”

  Dawson nodded with a smile. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said. “I’m leaving in about an hour for court, but I’ll check my phone in between stuff.”

  “Great, thanks,” Lindsey said. She returned to her office and called Nelson. She wanted to hear his voice again and have the conversation be between the two of them, with no middle man.

  When she hung up, she was smiling. The office outside her door was absolutely silent, which meant that Dawson had left. She stood and adjusted the blinds against the bright sun. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the trees outside had burst into blossom.

  Lindsey spent the next few hours in phone calls, sending emails, and texting Nelson once he was done with practice. She was surprised to see that it was nearly dark by the time she was finished with her to-do lists. Staying busy had been good, and she was looking forward to tomorrow, when she’d fly to Vegas and see Nelson play in game two.

  She grabbed a to-go chicken sandwich on the way back to her place. It smelled heavenly, and she realized she’d worked straight through lunch without a thought to get something from the office kitchenette. She made her way to her condo, thinking of how she should probably start being friendlier to her neighbors if she was going to be in Pine Valley for a while. The small-town clientele wasn’t keeping her busy night and day like her clientele in San Francisco had.

  She smiled as she unlocked her front door. She could get used to this more relaxed place. Home before seven. Who would have thought?

  The second she flipped on the lights, she knew something was different. Lindsey paused in the doorway, scanning the front room. Everything seemed to be in its place. The couch, the coffee table, the end table with a picture of her and her dad at her law school graduation. Her plants. They were still in the direction she’d turned them. Except for one.

  She took a step back, then another, without shutting her door. There was no way she’d not turned the middle plant. Her routine was always the same, every day.

  With trembling hands, she pulled out her cell phone and pressed SEND on Dawson’s number. He might still be wrapped up in whatever court things he’d dealt with that day. “Please answer, please answer,” she whispered into the phone as she headed to her car.

  The dark parking lot was lit by the streetlamps, but that left plenty of shadows.

  “Hey, Lindsey,” Dawson’s warm tone answered.

  “Something’s not right,” she said, unable to hide the panic in her tone.

  “Where are you?”

  “My condo,” she said, looking left, then right as she headed to her car.

  “Leave and get in your car,” Dawson said. “Lock all the doors.”

  “I am,” she said, reaching for the door handle. She slipped into the car and locked the doors with a thudding click.

  “Okay, I’m coming over,” he said. “Hang up and call 911.”

  Lindsey released a shaky breath. “You don’t think I’m overreacting?”

  “If you’re scared, that’s reason enough,” Dawson said. “Call them now.”

  “Okay,” Lindsey said. “I’m calling.” She hung up and dialed 911, hardly daring to believe she was doing this. When the dispatcher answered, Lindsey told her that someone had been in the apartment, although she’d locked the door.

  “Does anyone have a spare key, ma’am?” the dispatcher asked after promising that a police officer was on his way.

  “No,” Lindsey said. “No one but me.”

  “Where are you now?” she asked.

  “In my car, with the doors locked.”

  “That’s great,” the woman said. “Give me the information on your car, and I’ll let the officer know where you are.”

  “My friend Dawson Harris is on his way over too.”

  “Noted,” the dispatcher said.

  Lindsey tried to answer the dispatcher’s questions as calmly as possible, but her heart was pumping furiously. There had been no movement by her condo, and she had a clear view. She saw the cop car pull into the condo complex. He parked at the very end and then got out. The cop was tall with dark hair, and he made a beeline
for her car.

  She opened the door as he approached.

  “I’m Officer Russo,” he said. “Are you Lindsey Gerber?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “I’m calling for another officer, and then we’ll go and check your place.”

  A truck pulled into the parking lot.

  “That’s Dawson Harris,” she said.

  Russo glanced over. “I know him. We’ll get this figured out, ma’am. Don’t worry.”

  Nelson had just walked into his place, a sack of takeout food in hand, when his phone rang. He looked at the incoming call. Dawson Harris. The last person Nelson expected a call from.

  “Hello?”

  “Nelson? I’m calling to say that Lindsey is fine.”

  Now Nelson was worried. “What’s going on?”

  “Lindsey had a break-in tonight at her condo,” Dawson said. “She wasn’t touched or hurt or anything, and the cops got the intruder. She’s at the police station right now, giving a report, and then she’ll be staying at my place tonight, although her condo has now been cleared—”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Nelson said, setting his sack of food on the kitchen table and pacing the room. “There was an intruder at her place? Was he there to steal something? Or was he targeting Lindsey?”

  Dawson was silent for a moment.

  “Harris!”

  “I’m not supposed to say anything, but it was Paul Locker.”

  Nelson stopped pacing as a cold shudder passed through him. “What the hell?”

  “He’s in custody now, and they’re throwing everything at him,” Dawson said. “I’m making sure of it. He won’t be bothering Lindsey again.”

  “How are you making sure of it?”

  Dawson exhaled. “The investigation is ongoing, and the details aren’t public, so if I tell you, you can’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Tell me,” Nelson said, gripping the top of one of the kitchen chairs. In truth, he wanted to punch a wall, but that might come later.

  “Paul Locker entered her apartment about six tonight,” Dawson said. “He told the cops he was looking for paperwork or some sort of evidence that she was setting him up to get him fired. But the cops didn’t find anything disturbed that would indicate he was telling the truth. They found him . . . in her bathtub with the curtain closed. Hiding.”