His to Love (Titans Quarter Book 2)

by Sierra Cartwright

  As Fiona gave a brave smile before nodding, Shelby studied her. What had the reading stirred up? Thoughts about her relationship with Andrew? Or was it something else entirely? Though they’d been friends for years, Shelby knew little about her past or what made Fiona the strong, capable woman she was.

  “Hannah?” Madame’s soothing tone restored harmony to the surroundings and ensured that the evening continued the way it was supposed to.

  “My turn, I guess.” In a nervous gesture, Hannah pushed her brunette hair back before choosing her cup and saucer.

  Once she’d finished her tea, she repeated the steps Fiona had taken. And after studying her cup for at least a minute, she shrugged. “This is more difficult than I thought it would be. Does anyone see anything?”

  “This is about you tapping into your intuition. Divining what is meant for you.”

  “I’ll try again.” She looked at the leaves from several different angles. “Uhm. A circle.”

  “A ring?” Fiona asked.

  Hannah gnawed on her lower lip. “Maybe. Mason’s mother is getting married soon.”

  Hannah and Mason had been together for a while, and they were filming a home renovation show. Mason was clear to everyone that he wanted to marry Hannah, but she wanted to move more slowly than he did.

  “What part of the cup is it in?” Madame asked.

  “The bottom.”

  “And when is the wedding?”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What?” Hannah demanded.

  “Symbols in the bottom of the bowl tend to be a little further in the future.”

  Fiona squealed. “So it could be your wedding!”

  Hannah blushed, which was telling.

  Shelby leaned in closer. “Are you getting closer to agreeing?”

  “Uh…” Her flush deepened.

  “You are!” Fiona exclaimed. “I’m so happy for you.”

  Hannah placed her cup back on its saucer.

  “The leaves tell us many things.” As always, Madame’s voice calmed and reassured. “Possibilities. Probabilities, even. But not certainties. You always have free will. And the circle may represent something to you other than a ring. Friendship. Closure.”

  Hannah nodded. “Maybe from the crap in my past.”

  “Choose your path with confidence. Find your joy.”

  “Right now, I’m happier than I ever have been.”

  With a knowing smile, Madame once again returned to the stove to boil water.

  Now that it was her turn, Shelby sympathized with her friends’ struggle. Finding meaning in something that looked like random blobs of leaves and twigs was more difficult than it appeared.

  “Perhaps a general impression?”

  What she was going to say was ridiculous. “Clouds.” Once she voiced it, it seemed accurate. “Storms.”

  “Where do you see that?”

  “Near the top.”

  “Close to the handle? Far away?”

  “Both sides.”

  “Oui.” Madame nodded. “A reflection perhaps of where you are and what is in your immediate future.”

  Shelby’s breath burned. She hated it. Madame was right. Storms raged inside Shelby’s mind, in a mad conflict between her heart and mind.

  “And the middle or bottom of the bowl? Are there more clouds?”

  “No. Does that mean brighter days ahead?”

  “Does it?” Madame asked. “As I mentioned to Hannah, the reading is subjective. You always have free will and more sway over your future than you might believe. Choices. Please. Feel free to see if there’s anything else there for you.”

  Shelby rotated the cup so she could examine all the angles. “At the very bottom. An anchor, perhaps.”

  “Are you being weighed down by something?” Fiona asked.

  “What are other possibilities?”

  Shelby appreciated Madame’s question. It was easy to fixate on one meaning.

  “Stability?” Hannah guessed. “Like a boat can remain stable, even in the ocean, if it drops its anchor, right?”

  “Perhaps it also speaks of water,” Madame mused.

  All of the guesses, along with her own intuition, represented her time with Trevor on the lake.

  Shelby continued to stare into the depths of her cup. She recalled him being there for her after the Lemieux divorce case. It was more than that, she realized. He’d been there for her every day, ever since her introduction to scening with him. He cared for her physically as well as emotionally. He’d been her anchor against the storms raging around and through her.

  “Taken together, the images tell a story, do they not?”

  Oddly there were no leaves between the top of the bowl and the bottom. The space between the clouds and the anchor was clear.

  The problem was, she had no idea how to get from where she was to where she wanted to go.

  It was scary, an abyss. Even if she knew how to get there, she wasn’t sure she even knew how to attempt the journey.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Is everything okay, Mr. Lawton?”

  Cell phone pressed against his ear, Trevor frowned and paced the length of his front deck. The soft concern in his assistant’s voice unnerved him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “It’s five a.m.” Caroline’s reply was softer than it usually was. “On a Sunday morning.”

  Fuck. Was it?

  He checked his watch. One minute after. When the hell had that happened? After he returned from the Quarter—and not seeing Shelby again—he decided to drown his angst in work. He’d lost track of the time and the day, though the fact that the sky was still inky and dotted with stars should have reined in his phone-dialing instincts. “Sorry, Caro.” How damn inconsiderate could he be? “It can wait until tomorrow.”

  “I’m awake now. Let me grab my pad.” There was a ruffling in the background, followed by a masculine protest.

  Caroline had company? What the…? He dragged a hand through his hair. How had he not realized she was in a relationship? They’d worked together so long that it sometimes seemed they shared a brain, yet he didn’t know what was going on in her personal life?

  “I’ll be right back,” she whispered. To him? Or to her visitor?

  “Hurry,” the male responded.

  “Look, Caroline.” Trevor exhaled his frustration. “I mean it. We don’t need to do this now.”

  A tiny click echoed across the line. Caroline closing the bedroom door?

  “I’m ready, Mr. Lawton. Powered up, stylus in hand.”

  Just because his life was in shambles—not sleeping, barely remembering to eat, pushing projects farther, faster than usual—didn’t mean his assistant didn’t deserve some time to herself. She deserved a break from him. In fact, everyone in his life did.

  Ever since Shelby shut the door on him almost three weeks ago, his mind hadn’t stopped spinning. What had gone wrong? And what the hell was so bad between them that she blocked his calls? At least he assumed that was what she’d done considering he instantly received her voice mail the moment he hit the Send button on his phone.

  No matter which way he looked at it, he couldn’t come up with anything that made sense.

  “Mr. Lawton?”

  “Yeah. I’m here.” Focus. Which would be easier if he’d slept more than a handful of hours in the past two days. “About the Reshift project. Set up a meeting with Dan and Lewis for early next week.”

  “Assuming a video conference call?” The question was rushed yet hesitant.

  “No. Bring them in.”

  “You’re interested? Really? Not just as a personal favor?” Caroline’s voice no longer held any traces of sleep.

  Caroline had brought the project to him, and she’d apologized for using their relationship to circumvent his usual vetting process. He didn’t mind. In the balance ledger of life, he owed her more than a few favors.

  After a single glance, he’d been intrigued. Her brother and
his partner had spent years figuring out how to recycle many different kinds of plastics into new products, from outdoor rugs to comfortable slippers, toys, even socks with outrageous sayings on them.

  What excited him even more were their proposed uses for the five hundred billion coffee cups tossed in the trash each year. The thin plastic lining made them notoriously difficult to recycle, but Reshift had found a way to make new objects out of the waste, including office supplies like pencil holders and paperweights. His favorite use was flowerpots—from large sizes meant for outdoor use to much smaller ones that would hold a single flower.

  He picked up a prototype that they’d sent to him. It was a stout cream-colored octagonal vase, complete with a multifaceted succulent growing from soil fertilized by coffee grounds. The creativity of the pair excited him. They might never become millionaires from their work, but they were doing good, and who knew what other brilliant ideas they would have? “I’m making no promises. But it’s worth my time to have a deeper look.” There were challenges to be sure. The recycling process was cumbersome, perhaps too much to ever be affordable. And collecting enough material could be a challenge. Then there was marketing and sales of the refashioned objects.

  “They never thought…” Caroline fell silent. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I’m glad you brought it to my attention. If nothing else, going through the process will help them refine their pitch, and I’ll give them some business advice.”

  “They’ll be thrilled. Really.”

  “I’ll leave the arrangements to you. Calendar it when you finalize the details.”

  “Anything else, sir?”

  A million things, just to keep thoughts of Shelby at bay. “Enjoy the rest of your day. If I call you again, ignore me.”

  “You know I’d never do that.”

  “That’s an order, not a suggestion.”

  “Of course, Mr. Lawton.” She laughed before ending the call.

  Once he was alone again with his thoughts, he dropped the phone onto his desk, then put the vase back.

  Since it was far too early to make any other calls, he opted to brew coffee and head outside, kill some time before he headed into the city. At ten, he was meeting with David and Mason, and this time Wayne Dixon was joining them.

  Near the boathouse, Trevor flipped on the green underwater dock lights to attract bait fish.

  The noise brought Bruno bounding across the yard and out onto wooden planks.

  “Hey, boy.”

  The overgrown pup plopped down and pushed his huge head against Trevor’s thigh, demanding attention.

  He wasn’t sure he’d ever been more grateful for an interruption.

  Bruno stayed much longer than usual before some other noise attracted his attention. With a soft whimper, he took off, and the world fell silent except for the occasional leaping fish.

  Having a pole in his hand always righted his world, but not today. He should have opted for a bike ride or a run, something that would burn off excess energy.

  Eventually the sun peeked over the horizon, but even that made him think of Shelby and how much she’d enjoy seeing it. Especially if he brought her a cup of coffee or perhaps a mimosa. Wasn’t that what Sundays were for?

  Again, thoughts of Shelby returned, whether he wanted them or not.

  Frustrated and lacking his usual patience, he strode to the light switch and flipped it off before putting his pole away and yanking the boathouse door shut. He rammed the bolt home.

  Unbidden, Madame Giselle’s words about agitation that morning at her store returned to him.

  “It’s the distance between where we are and where we would like to be.”

  That definition had fit his life from the first moment he met Shelby.

  No matter how many times he told himself to forget her, he couldn’t. And that confounded him. Hell, it even pissed him off.

  If Shelby were here, he’d suggest they eat breakfast in New Orleans before going to the law center. She’d be so damn happy to see the progress they were making.

  Instead, he made a lonely breakfast for one, then headed for the shower.

  Since he still had a couple of hours to spare, he spent time in his office going through a pile of proposals, none of which held his attention.

  Much earlier than he needed to, he left, and he wasn’t surprised to find David already there, along with Mason.

  The renovation was slower than usual since the crew was only working at night and on the weekends. David refused to close the doors even for a day.

  “Coffee’s in the kitchen,” David said. “Looks like you could use it.”

  “What? I showered.”

  “Still not sleeping?”

  “It’s overrated.” And elusive as hell. Still, because he wanted it as much as he needed it, Trevor went and poured a cup.

  He joined Mason and David at a desk where blueprints were spread out.

  “That wall”—Mason pointed—“is going to be removed. We’ll put in a structural beam, which will make this area bigger.”

  Which would allow the space to serve the community better. One Saturday a month, David wanted to do an open house of sorts. A number of lawyers would volunteer their time and accept walk-in clients. There would also be adequate room for tables and phones for the days when he allowed people to call in with legal questions.

  Mason, too, was supplying his time at no charge. The home improvement network that was filming his show had even stopped by a couple of times to video the site.

  Trevor hoped that when the episode aired, it would galvanize contributions.

  While Mason was providing a timeline, the door opened, and Wayne strode in. Trevor greeted his mentor, then introduced him to David and Mason.

  “It’s a pleasure,” Wayne said, shaking David’s hand. “Impressive what you’re doing here.”

  “Thank you. Honestly? None of it has been my doing. It’s all thanks to Trevor.”

  “Not at all.” Trevor shucked off the compliment. “You’ve put in the heart and hard work.”

  Wayne nodded before turning toward Mason. “And our local celebrity, I presume?”

  “Hardly.” Mason grinned. “I don’t have a bridge named after me, unlike you.”

  “It’s all about doing good. Like we are here.”

  Though both men were Titans, they hadn’t met until now.

  After they all grabbed a fresh cup of coffee, they headed into the conference room. Unlike most law offices with a sleek place to meet, this was dominated by a long metal table surrounded by folding chairs, some of which had rips in the fake leather upholstery, allowing stuffing to ooze out. Not very confidence inspiring.

  Once the room was renovated, Trevor would arrange for a furniture delivery.

  For now, it was serviceable.

  “I have a proposal,” Wayne began when everyone was seated.

  Trevor had been looking forward to this day for a week.

  Wayne studied David. “I’d like you to join my legal team.”

  He’d been reaching for his cup, but he dropped his hand to the tabletop, then glanced at Trevor.

  “This is such an honor. I’m…” In shock, he shook his head. “There’s no way I’m qualified to represent—”

  “Hear me out.” Wayne’s tone said he wouldn’t tolerate further interruptions. The man was accustomed to being in charge, and his time was precious.

  Securing his interest had been one of Trevor’s greatest coups.

  “I know you want to be here,” Wayne continued. “And you should be. But if you joined my team, you’d raise your profile significantly. You can litigate, I assume?”

  “Of course!”

  When he said nothing else, Wayne nodded. “Good. You won’t need to give me a lot of time, but you’ll need to have an office at Barney and Scheck.”

  “At…?”

  One of the most prestigious firms in the state, if not the South. “Close your mouth,” Trevor advised.

 
“We can get someone in here to help you manage things better. If your reputation improves, you’ll bring in paying clients, which will enable you to afford to continue with your charitable efforts.”

  “I… Uhm.” David cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You’ll meet me tomorrow morning at their offices at eight.” It wasn’t a question. Wayne stood.

  David followed suit and shook the man’s hand.

  “Dress for success,” Wayne said. “Gentlemen.” He nodded in a sharp way that included everyone, then strode from the room.

  “The fuck just happened?” David asked, slumping into his chair.

  Trevor rapped his knuckles on the table. “Sounded like opportunity knocking.”

  “I… Jesus. I can’t believe it.”

  “You’re doing a worthwhile thing. The rest of us are glad to be along for the ride.”

  Mason nodded. “The first of the offices will be ready by next weekend.” His advisor, John Thoroughgood, had suggested David remodel the second and third floors and lease out the space. And Thoroughgood had agreed to be the first tenant, which would bring in immediate income. Yesterday, a mortgage broker had also expressed an interest in moving in as soon as possible.

  “This is…” David shook his head. “I don’t know. Beyond anything I could imagine. I owe Shelby one.”

  Though Trevor wanted to deny it, he couldn’t. If he hadn’t been intrigued by the badly behaved submissive kneeling next to David, Trevor wouldn’t be here. Chances were, he would have never seen the file.

  “Has she seen what you’ve accomplished?” Mason asked.

  Trevor’s breathing turned sluggish. He thirsted for information about her, even though he didn’t want to.

  “No. I need to invite her down. Maybe take her to dinner.”

  “How’s she doing?” Trevor hated himself for asking.

  “No idea. Haven’t seen her. Call her and find out for yourself.”

  “Yeah.” He raked a hand into his hair. For all the good it would do him.

  “We’re good to go on the Getting Hammered event?” David asked.

  “A week from Friday,” Mason confirmed. “Four o’clock.” Each month, the historic preservation group that he belonged to hosted an informal happy hour gathering in a historic building that was being renovated. Beer, wine, and appetizers were served, and money was raised. Mason suggested opening up the law offices to the group as another way to increase David’s profile and solicit donations at the same time.