Why Did It Have to Be You?

by Allyson Charles

  Tracy snorted. “Is that why my last boyfriend kept a stopwatch by the bed?”

  “Come on.” He groaned. “Too much information.”

  She smiled wickedly, reminding him of herself when she was a teenager. Before she became weighed down with responsibility. “You want to stay for dinner?”

  “I have to get back to work.” He headed for the front door. “Citizens of the Year can’t slack off in their business.” He stopped in the threshold. “Are we okay?”

  “Getting there.” She kissed him on the cheek, and he turned to go.

  “David,” she called out when he hit the bottom step. “Dad won that award once. Remember?”

  “I remember.” He swallowed. “Do you ever wonder if he and mom would be proud of us?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But all we can do is our best.”

  David turned for home, believing for the first time in a long while that his best might be good enough after all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Someone rapped on her open office door, and Connie glanced up from the papers on her desk. Eugene Cornell of Cornell, Weaver & Costas poked his head in. “Hi, Eugene. What’s up?”

  “You got a minute?” He lowered himself into one of the guest chairs in front of her desk, not waiting for an answer. But he was her boss and one of the partners of her firm. Of course she had time for him. But she couldn’t help remember how friendly the partners in Marisol’s firm had been. The boundaries between partner and associate had seemed to be almost nonexistent there. Another draw to Detroit.

  “I wanted to check in on your progress with the Carelli case. I heard you got Mike Washington to sign an affidavit that the commission meeting was held in an unusual manner.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded, looking impressed. “Good job.”

  Leaning back in her chair, she rolled her pen between her fingers. “Thanks. But I don’t know how much help it’ll be. Even though the meeting was held off the normal calendar, I don’t think it legally meets the requirements for public notice. Of course I’ll argue to the contrary.”

  “But you’re trying to prove a pattern.” He smoothed a hand down his red-striped tie. “Show that if certain strings were pulled here, they could have been pulled elsewhere.”

  She nodded. “I’ve also added the city of Pineville as a co-defendant. If any misconduct occurred in the zoning commission, they’re the ones on the hook.”

  Stretching out his legs, he laced his fingers together over his stomach. “You seem to be settling in nicely. How are you finding life as an attorney?”

  “Busy.” Waving a hand at the pile of documents in front of her, she blew out a breath. “Along with my case, I’m also helping Derek and Juanita with the interrogatories for their cases. The work seems never-ending.”

  He shrugged. “You’re the new kid on the block.”

  Connie hoped that was the case. But she felt she was sometimes still treated as the paralegal. Yet her firm had given her a chance when a lot of others wouldn’t. “I don’t mind the work. I just want to make sure I get it done right.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much.” He pushed to his feet. “Everyone is saying good things about you.”

  She stopped spinning her pen. “Really?” That was nice to hear. But now that she knew they liked her work, she wanted to limit their expectations. “You know that even with my affidavit, the chances of our winning the case are slim. Case law isn’t on our side.”

  “But you’ll screw with Carelli’s construction schedule, and that’s a win in and of itself.” Eugene rocked onto the balls of his feet, a gleeful smile crossing his face.

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You know our firm has a past with Carelli Construction. We’ve been on the losing end of too many cases.” He shrugged. “Payback’s a bitch.”

  “But…” Something cold slid through her veins, putting a damper on her good mood like a wet towel to a candle. “That’s not why we took the case, right? It’s a long shot, but we accepted the case because there was a shot.” No way would a firm take a case because of a grudge. That would be using their clients instead of fighting for them. It was way too soon for Connie to get disillusioned with the practice of law.

  “There’s always a shot.” He paused in the doorway. “But no one can deny that seeing Carelli Construction in the hot seat is a definite plus to taking on this case.”

  “And if David was on the other side of the case?”

  “He wouldn’t be,” Eugene said. “I can’t see anyone at this firm accepting him as a client.”

  Her stomach sank to her toes. Except her. She’d thought about it. And thought her firm would be happy if she was able to pull in such a high-profile client. But it sounded like revenge beat money in the rock-paper-scissors of client acceptability.

  She rocked back in her chair. She’d kissed the opposing side’s client. Considering the way the partners at Cornell, Weaver & Costas felt about David, she figured that would be worth an immediate dismissal if discovered. Or worse. Even though sleeping with her own client was a definite no-no, there wasn’t a direct rule against locking lips with an opposing client in the Michigan Bar Rules of Professional Conduct. But it could certainly be argued that she’d created a conflict of interest. Her firm would clearly hold such a lapse in judgment against her.

  As well they should. She’d been stupid. Stupider yet to warm toward David after their visit to his nephew’s prison. She needed to relegate David to the role of opposition. They weren’t associates. They weren’t friends. And they would never be lovers.

  Leaning against the doorframe, Eugene crossed his arms over his chest. “You know the first six months at the firm are sort of like a probationary period. You get reviewed after that.”

  Connie nodded. She knew the employee handbook backward and forward, especially any part concerning her employment status.

  “If you can make this case last for a while, regardless of the outcome, it will look good on your review.” He smirked. “There might even be a raise in it for you.”

  “A raise?” Her mind whirled. She’d already created a budget to see if she could afford to help her father out with rent. It had only looked doable with her higher-paying job offer in Detroit. But with a raise… She flicked her pen against the desktop, thinking. Living with her father was a constant battle, and she needed him out of her house. She could help him with rent now if she knew her take-home pay would be going up in a couple of months.

  “Regardless of outcome?” she asked. “It wouldn’t hurt my review if I lost the case?”

  “We’re all realistic here,” he said. “Just make sure you don’t lose too soon. Even if Judge Nichols rules that we have to pay fees and costs, Carelli will still have the expense of delayed construction and lost revenues.” He pushed off the doorframe and winked, like she was in on a joke. Her stomach turned. “Sometimes, the process is the punishment,” he said, and disappeared out the door.

  Turning her chair to look out the window, she rested her head against the seatback. She felt like the firm’s hit man. David didn’t deserve to be targeted like this. And her clients didn’t deserve to be used in some sort of sick vendetta, not if there wasn’t a chance for them.

  No, none of them deserved it. But she was going to do what her firm wanted. Because that was her job, taking the cases the firm told her to. And if she did a good enough job, at least it wouldn’t be a total waste. A raise, and a chance to free herself from her father. And she could stay in Pineville if that was what she wanted.

  If anyone would understand the need to do something disagreeable to get what she wanted, David would. And she hadn’t given up hope that she’d be able to help her clients in some way. So she stopped feeling sorry for herself, turned to her desk, and got back to work.

  * * *

  Sue slammed a glass of water down on the conference table, and liquid sloshed over the rim. She pushed her chair back and stood. “I’m going to
kill Washington. He doesn’t know it yet, but life just got very unpleasant for him.”

  Craig Evers scooped up his copy of Mike Washington’s affidavit before the puddle of water could soak into its edges. “I didn’t show you this so you could issue threats. And it’s not that big a deal. He doesn’t allege anything illegal. Just—”

  “And you!” Sue paced the length of the conference room in Evers’s office building. Pointing a fingernail at David, she yelled, “I hired you because you’re supposed to be able to get shit done. I didn’t expect you to be delayed by some half-assed citizen’s group and an attorney fresh out of law school.”

  Crossing one leg over the other, Craig seemed unfazed by the transformation of his client into a banshee. In his line of work, he should be used to fits of rage. “For her first case, Ms. Wilkerson is doing an admirable job,” Evers said. He ignored the scathing look Sue shot him. “Judge Nichols should have closed the book on this one weeks ago.”

  “Don’t sound so happy about it, Craig,” Sue said. “You and that Ms. Wilkerson are the only ones winning here. The town’s strays are losing every day this gets delayed.”

  David sat forward. “Why don’t we look over those alternate building locations again? It wouldn’t hurt—”

  “Giving up on my dream would hurt.” Gripping the back of her chair, Sue’s fingers dug into the leather. “Having a shelter centrally located in a business district can only increase adoption rates. I want to get Pineville’s kill rate down to zero, and that’s not going to happen if we’re out of the way and no one can see our dogs and cats. No, the location stays.”

  “There are other ways to draw traffic aside from a central location.” David shook his head. This was the problem when people became too emotionally invested in business. They ignored viable alternatives and developed tunnel vision. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Sue that there was more than one way to skin a cat, but he didn’t think that particular turn of phrase would go over well.

  Evers stood and gathered his papers. “You don’t need to come up with alternatives. The case is going to trial, but we’ll still win.”

  “I don’t want to wait for trial, I want to start construction now.” Sue slapped her hand on the back of a leather chair for emphasis. “If we can’t win now, we need to find something on that prig, Connie.”

  Evers strode to the door. “That’s my cue to leave. I’ll give you both a call when I receive CCWP’s interrogatories.”

  The door to the conference room snicked shut behind him, and Sue watched the attorney walk toward his office through the glass wall. “Wuss. I don’t know why we hired an attorney who doesn’t have the stomach for dirty work.”

  “Because he’s good.” David pushed out her chair and patted the seat. “Sit down. Let’s talk about this.” Rationally, he wanted to add. Sue was turning this into a personal vendetta against Connie when Connie was only doing her job. And doing it well.

  She dropped heavily into the chair. “You’ve known Connie for a long time. Anything we can use against her?”

  “Use against her?” David narrowed his eyes. “What the hell do you mean?”

  Lines appeared in Sue’s forehead. “You know as well as I do that finding dirt on the opposition can be useful. What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’? Dirt.”

  “There’s nothing,” he said tightly. He snapped his portfolio shut. “Now—”

  “There’s always something.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “I heard she used to like to party, but has cleaned up her act. I’m stalking her on social media, but haven’t found any pictures she’d be embarrassed about.”

  Heat flushed through his body. Sue was seriously trying to find a way to destroy Connie’s reputation. And only a couple of months ago, David would have been first in line to help her. Would have applauded Sue’s initiative. What the hell was wrong with him? What kind of man had he become?

  Sue stabbed the table with her index finger. “If we could just find—”

  “That’s enough.” Fury laced David’s voice, and Sue had the good sense to shut her mouth. “We’re not in the gossip business, and I’m not going to go after someone for doing her job. Do you understand?”

  “Not really.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t know you were friends with her.”

  “I’m not.” He didn’t think so. Maybe. He didn’t even know if he wanted to be anymore. Connie had him so turned around. Had him questioning everything about his life. She was like an itch that wouldn’t go away, getting under his skin, annoying as hell. His life would have been better if he’d never reconnected with the woman.

  A calculating gleam brightened Sue’s eyes. “Maybe you should be.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  Sue glanced at the closed door. “If you got to be…friendly with opposing counsel, she might see things our way. Either that or we report her to the Michigan State Bar.” Crossing her legs, her nylons scraping against each other, she rested her hand over his. “I think you should become very, very friendly with the lovely Ms. Wilkerson.”

  She traced a figure eight on the back of his hand, and it was like ants crawling over his skin. Sue could never know what he and Connie had already done. The kiss had been innocent. Connie would never let it interfere with her job, and David wouldn’t ask it of her. But Sue wouldn’t take it that way. She’d twist it, make it dirty, and Connie’s career would be over before it had even begun.

  Turning his hand over, he grabbed hers, forcing himself not to crush it in his grip. “That’s an interesting idea, but it wouldn’t work. Connie’s never liked me, and even I can’t overcome fifteen years of hate.”

  “If anyone could turn Miss Prim and Proper back into a party girl, I’m sure it would be you.” Sue leaned forward, giving him a good view down her blouse. The hem of her skirt inched up with the motion. Her voice dropped into a purr. “I think you and Ms. Wilkerson are going to become good friends.”

  He knew when he was being played, but still his eyes dropped to her cleavage, to the expanse of exposed thigh. Disgusted with himself, he dragged his gaze up and kept it above her neck. “We don’t need dirty tricks to win. But you either need to adjust your fixation on the current location, or adjust your timetable. That’s the reality.” Sue moved her hand toward his thigh, and he grabbed her wrist, guiding it to her own lap.

  She scowled. Leaning back, she contemplated him a moment. “Fine. I thought you wanted to do your best for the shelter. To prove your dedication to our community.” She shrugged. “I had told my fellow Citizen of the Year board members how committed you were. Of everything you were doing for Pineville. Opinion was starting to turn in your favor.”

  Bile rose in David’s throat. He had it hand it to Sue. She played all the angles. Seeing the determined glint in her eye was almost like looking into a mirror. When she wanted something, she didn’t let anything stand in her way until she got it. Just like him. Or at least, like he used to be.

  David stood, his chair rolling back and tapping the wall. What the hell had happened to him to lose that focus? His life use to be clear. He wanted something, he did whatever it took to get it. Simple. Straightforward. Now he questioned everything.

  And he didn’t like it.

  Leaving before he said anything to Sue he might later regret, he nodded goodbye and escaped from the office. His legs ate up the pavement of the parking lot, and he threw himself into his car. He pressed the ignition, and the BMW whispered to life. Peeling out of the parking lot, David clenched the steering wheel. The performance vehicle took his hard turns easily, and in that moment he hated the car. The ride was too smooth, the suspension disguising every flaw in the macadam. The bumpy ride his work truck gave him would at least have matched his mood. The BMW smugly mocked his internal turmoil with its smooth glide. It was able to overcome the bumps in the road. Even when he stomped on the gas, the engine barely raised its voice above a self-satisfied purr. He needed an outlet for his anger, s
omething to fight with, not a machine that obeyed his every command.

  At the next stop sign, he pulled a U-turn. He knew just what he needed. And he was going to get it.

  * * *

  Connie followed the sounds of hammering and swearing through her front door, stopping in her living room to drop her suit jacket and purse, and out her back door. She paused on her porch, shifting her weight, and warily eyed the man in Milo’s pen who was building what looked like a shed.

  “What are you doing?” she called out.

  Milo hopped over a large tire and trotted to the fence to greet her. David’s reception wasn’t so enthusiastic. “I’m building a shelter for your damned goat. What does it look like?”

  Connie pursed her lips and slowly made her way down the steps and across the yard. She was still in her pumps, and her heels sank into the dirt. “Okay.” She stopped where Milo butted his head against the fencing and stroked his ear through the wire. He loved having his ears stroked, almost enough to forgive her for putting a collar on him. But the red leather did look stylish against his brown hair. “Why are you building a shelter for Milo?”

  The hammer froze at shoulder-height. “Milo? You named your goat Milo?”

  “What’s wrong with Milo? It’s a perfectly respectable name.”

  David snorted, and turned back to the plank he was nailing to a four-by-four.

  “What’s wrong?” If anyone had the right to act pissy, it was her. Even though she’d forgiven Caleb, she still hadn’t forgiven David for pointing out Caleb’s flaws to her. Maybe that was unfair, but that’s just the way it was. What right did he have to come to her house and bang around, scaring her goat?

  She glanced over at Milo who was lying on the dirt chewing on a rag. Okay, so he didn’t exactly look afraid. But he could have been.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s perfect.” Picking up a cordless drill, he attached a metal brace to the ninety-degree angle between post and plank. The drill shrieked in the early afternoon air. “What are you doing home? Don’t you have a job you need to go to?”