Why Did It Have to Be You?

by Allyson Charles

  Her decision should be easy. Her relationship with David had crashed and burned. The Detroit firm had increased their offer, yet again. Even Milo had given her an out by taking off. She no longer had to worry about finding him a home. There were no strings tying her to Pineville. She grabbed a bottle of water a volunteer was handing out, and chugged it back. Free as a friggin’ bird, and she’d never felt more miserable.

  It was nerves, she decided. The idea of pulling up stakes was daunting, but it was the right decision. When she called Marisol tonight, she’d let her know she’d made her choice. She was accepting the job. Stomach tight, she turned toward her car parked three streets over. She walked into a wall of blue.

  “Sorry, Jerome.” She rubbed her shoulder. “You snuck up on me.”

  Heaving a sigh, he shook his head. “No, it was my bad. I wanted to talk to you before the parade started.” His dark brows jutted down over his lowered eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Connie had never seen him look so dejected.

  “Fine.” It took only three beats of silence before he spilled. “I’m working the dunk booth this afternoon. For two half-hour shifts.”

  Connie forced her lips to remain flat. “I thought you got out of that by volunteering for other things?”

  “I thought I had, too. But Officer Smith came down with something, and the chief twisted my arm.” He narrowed his dark eyes on her face. “Why do people even like the stupid thing? Woo hoo, someone gets wet,” he said, waving his hands in the air. “Happens every day in the shower.”

  “But not with your clothes on,” she pointed out. “Unless you do it differently than I do.”

  He curled his lip. “Funny.”

  “The big splash is fun, too.”

  “That’s what my kid said.” Hooking his thumbs in the front of his duty belt, he shook his head.

  “Now I understand why you agreed.” She laid a hand on his arm. “It’s sweet what you’ll do for your daughter.”

  “Am I interrupting something?” a rough voice ground out behind her.

  Digging her fingers into Jerome’s uniform, she turned with a start. “David! You surprised me.” As her heart rate slowed, she drank in the sight of him. His dirty-blond hair glinted gold in the sun. He was the only man wearing a suit to the Founders’ Day celebration, but he made it look good. He crossed his arms over his chest, the shoulders of the suit pulling tight across his muscles. The only detraction from his hotness was the arctic glare he sent her way, his gaze flipping like a switch between her hand on Jerome’s arm and her face.

  She slid her hand off Jerome as she tilted her chin up a notch. She had nothing to feel guilty about. Not for today, anyway. “Jerome was just telling me…wait, what were you going to tell me? You said you needed to speak with me before the parade.”

  “The parade’s begun.” David jerked his head down the street to where the congregated floats drifted toward the official starting point at the corner of Main and Second.

  “I guess they figured something out,” Jerome muttered. Turning to Connie, he rubbed a hand over his close-cropped curls. “Something, and two guesses what, tore up the Hansett’s Village Hardware float. They had some plastic, chain of flowers thingy wrapped all around the trailer and now half of it is missing.” He stared at her from under raised brows. “Plastic flowers. What is wrong with your goat?”

  “I think Milo’s decided not to be mine anymore.” An all-too-common sentiment of late. She tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat fought back. “At least animal control hasn’t found him yet.”

  “‘Yet’ being the operative word.” David shoved his hands in his front pockets, his expression softening from cured concrete to half-dry cement. “Knowing Sandy Hansett, the goat might be better off with animal control than if she gets her hands on him.”

  Jerome nodded emphatically.

  David took a step forward. “Look, forget the goat right now. We need to talk. Do you mind, Jerome?”

  Jerome raised his hands. “No problem. I’ll just—”

  A scream tore through the air, and they whipped their heads around to follow the slow moving procession down Main. A majorette in a white dress and red boots wildly swung her baton behind her back. She staggered sideways, giving Connie a prime view of a brown and white goat, hooves up on the girl’s shoulders, neck stretched toward the red flower pinned behind her ear.

  “Son of a…” Jerome took off at a run, with Connie right beside him. “I swear I’m going to be the one to shoot your goat.”

  “The parade’s like a giant buffet for him,” she panted out. “You can’t blame Milo.”

  Jerome snorted.

  David loped by her side. He should have looked ridiculous running in his business suit, but he didn’t. Rather, he looked like James Bond chasing down a bad guy. The bastard. “What’s the plan here?” he asked. “Tackle Milo and truss him up with your tank top?”

  “You wish.”

  David grinned. “Yes, but—”

  “Look out!” Jerome shouted. He sidestepped, and Connie caught a blur of charging hair and slobber.

  Grabbing her around the waist, David tucked her in close and turned his back. His body jerked as Milo hip-checked him racing past.

  David drew his head back so his face was inches from hers. “I really hate your goat.”

  Throwing her hands in the air, she stepped back. “He’s just misunderstood!” Pivoting on her sneakers, she took off after her pet, sprinting faster than she had during the race. She could no longer see Milo, but the crowd parted like the Red Sea to give him space.

  David raced past her. Somewhere along the way he’d taken off his jacket, but his red tie flapped over his shoulder. “He’s heading for the park! Keep straight, and I’ll try to cut him off.”

  Connie nodded, but David had already cut across the intersection and turned down a side street.

  The shouts from people startled by Milo grew fainter as the goat pulled farther ahead. Her legs growing heavy, Connie stumbled to a stop, her chest heaving. Hands on her hips, she turned in a three-sixty, but couldn’t see her pet anywhere. Jerome had given up pursuit, his blue uniform a dot as he walked in the opposite direction alongside the marching band in the parade.

  Families gave her curious looks as she stood panting in the middle of the road. Stumbling to the intersection, she rested her palms on the sawhorses that barred traffic from driving down the street. The park was up on her left, but Milo hadn’t gone that way. She peered across the park lawn, but didn’t see David. He’d guessed incorrectly and had followed the wrong path.

  Her lungs squeezed until she had to work to suck in a breath. She’d been the wrong path for him, too. She curled her fingers around the barricade, the realization of how badly she’d hurt David swamping her. He’d wanted a real relationship. And she’d given him half-measures. Hadn’t let him in. Not really. He’d thought the only barrier to their relationship was the case, but she knew better. Even if she wasn’t an attorney and he wasn’t the defendant, would she take a chance on him? No one in Pineville liked him, and she wanted a fresh start. Would she have stood by him as they were ostracized together?

  Her heart squeezed in pain. She didn’t know the answer to that. And it no longer mattered. She’d made her decision. She had to move. Keep her body busy and her mind blank. Pushing off the sawhorse, she turned right and strode down the side street. She’d circle the block, make for her Jeep. She needed a shower and a change of clothes before working the cotton candy booth. Her sneakers slapped against the pavement with each step. Each step that took her farther and farther away from David. Just as in life, they’d gone in different directions.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Connie cursed, low and steadily, as another wisp of pink sugar blew into her face. Spinning cotton candy on a windy day was like trying to pin down a cloud.

  “This is a family event,” Miss Eugenie said, her lips tightening into a little pucker. “Languag
e, please.”

  Feeling as chastened as a schoolgirl, Connie nodded meekly and held the cone out to her neighbor. “Where’s Shep?”

  “At home,” Miss Eugenie said. “He doesn’t do well at carnivals. He’s so cute that everyone keeps feeding him and he gets an upset stomach.”

  Allison, who was working the booth with Connie, turned her back on Miss Eugenie and mouthed, Cute?

  The older woman sniffed. “It’s just as well. He doesn’t appreciate coarse language, either.”

  Allison snorted. “Kids these days say a lot worse than that.” She tore a piece of cotton candy off a cone she and Connie were sharing. She put it in her mouth as another gust of wind blew her blonde curls into her face. Allison huffed out a breath and pulled her hair back for the umpteenth time, separating it from the cotton candy. “And this booth is enough to drive a nun to cuss.”

  Miss Eugenie sniffed. “And no one ever accused you of being a nun, Allison.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Nuns aren’t known for having a lot of fun.” With an expert hand, Allison rolled a paper cone in the cotton candy machine and came up with a pink poof that she handed to a little boy. He offered up a wrinkled dollar bill and a crooked smile, and ran back to his mother at the ring toss booth.

  Plopping her purse on the table next to the candy machine, Miss Eugenie rooted through it one-handed. “Fun is overrated.”

  Allison shrugged. “Only if you’re not having any.”

  Miss Eugenie shook her head, her steel-gray curls quivering. “Look what having ‘fun’ has gotten Connie. A broken heart. Sometimes it’s better to follow your brain rather than your hormones. Fun,” she muttered under her breath. Tossing her wallet back in the bag, she pulled out her phone. “I’m out of cash. Do you take mobile payments?”

  Allison paused, the bag of sugar she was adding to the machine frozen mid-pour. “Broken heart?”

  “Oh, uh…” Miss Eugenie’s gaze bounced to Connie before landing on the ground. “No, I mean…”

  Allison dropped the bag on the table, sugar spilling from the top. She pointed a finger at Connie. “You and Carelli. I knew it!”

  Kicking at a bit of loose gravel, Connie swallowed past the painful lump in her throat. Pleading the fifth in this case would do no good. Silence would only equal an admission. But denial still worked. Allison had no proof. As long as Connie didn’t admit to a relationship, she was good.

  “Yes, me and David!” Connie snatched her and Allison’s half-eaten cone from its stand, and shoved a hank of cotton candy into her mouth. Okay, not the denial she’d planned, but she was tired of damming in the truth. Tired of denying her feelings. Her self-control had snapped like an old rubber band. “And why do you say it that way?” she asked, her words muffled by the cotton candy. Swallowing, she dropped her voice, and mimicked Allison. “‘You and Carelli.’ Like me sleeping with him is on par with sleeping with Saddam Hussein?”

  Allison’s mouth rounded in shock.

  Miss Eugenie leaned across the table. “It’s no use your getting shirty with Allison. You kept your relationship secret. It’s no wonder she was surprised. You never gave that boy the time of day in public. And given the way he stormed off after the game last night, it looks like you weren’t generous with your time in private either. Relationships don’t just happen; you have to work at them.”

  “Work at them!” Connie’s voice rose an octave. “My relationship with David is nobody’s business but mine and his. And now that I’m moving to Detroit, there’s no relationship anyway.” Chest heaving, Connie glared between the two women. She’d thought she would feel better after getting it off her chest. Committing publicly to her decision to take the new job. But she didn’t. She felt worse. Like there was no way she could turn back now.

  Crossing her arms, she glared at Miss Eugenie. “And who are you to talk about working at a relationship? You spend your spare time blanketing Pineville with your Random Acts of Knitting”—the older woman opened her mouth to protest, but Connie cut her off—“and that’s a secret everyone knows, but you can’t spare a moment to tell Judge Nichols how you feel. Don’t lecture me on relationships.”

  The older woman slouched. “Am I that obvious? Do you think he knows?”

  “If he doesn’t, you need to tell him.” Connie rubbed the back of her neck. She was the last person who should give out relationship advice. But if she wasn’t going to get the man she wanted, she at least wanted Miss Eugenie to be happy. “And you should tell him before you give the man a heart attack from all that food you make him.”

  Not worrying about her own heart attack, Connie shoved another clump of cotton candy into her mouth. It wasn’t nearly substantial enough to fill the emptiness inside her.

  Allison peeled the cone out of her hand and put the cotton candy out of Connie’s reach. “I think you’ve had enough.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Now, feel better letting that all out?”

  Connie thought about it, and nodded.

  “I’ll bet.” Allison sat on the table next to the cotton candy machine, her hands gripping the edge of the table as she leaned forward. “Honey, you’ve been keeping everything in since high school. Ever since you got labelled as ‘Crazy Connie,’ you’ve gone out of your way to appear in control. You were like a pressure cooker getting ready to explode.”

  “Well, I’m not keeping a lid on my feelings anymore.” Standing straighter, Connie felt the tension leave her body. She was done worrying about what other people thought. So she loved the town villain. So what? Pineville would have to deal with it.

  A nasty chuckle made her whip around. A crowd had gathered behind her. So many faces she knew, looking at her with varying degrees of surprise or disgust. Joe Rodriguez was among them, his legs planted wide and his arms folded across his chest. Colt was a few paces away, his arm slung around Sadie’s shoulders. Meeting his eyes was one of the harder things Connie had ever done. How would he react, knowing that the man she’d fallen for after his brother, the war hero, was David Carelli? Colt lowered his brow and pursed his lips, but gave no other indication of his thoughts.

  Another harsh laugh drew Connie’s eyes to Sue, standing in the front row of the crowd. “You won’t be keeping your state bar membership for much longer, either,” she said.

  Connie opened her mouth but nothing came out. Licking her lips, she tried again. “What?”

  “Sleeping with the defendant in your case? Is that what they taught you in law school?” Sue shook her head and snorted. “You picked the wrong defendant if you wanted to sweet-talk an agreement out of us. I’m the one who controls the case. I make the decisions. You would have had better luck going for me.”

  Allison jumped off the table and stood next to Connie. “She didn’t say she’s sleeping with him.”

  “Are you denying it?” Sue kept her eyes trained on Connie’s face, examining her as closely as Connie had Milo for fleas.

  Connie pushed her shoulders back. “No. I won’t deny it. I care about David. Very much. And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  “But you will have to explain it to the state ethics committee.” Rocking up onto the balls of her feet, Sue smiled, glee radiating off of her. “By this time next week, your license will be suspended.”

  Connie licked her lips. “Nothing in the rules specifically states that I can’t have a relationship with another attorney’s client.”

  “But it has to be a conflict of interest when that client is the defendant in your case,” Sue said. “I’m sure the ethics committee will see things the same way.”

  “Only if someone lodges a complaint.” After a squeeze to Sadie’s shoulder, Colt dropped his arm from around her and stepped forward. “And I don’t know why anyone should. We all know Connie, know she wouldn’t abuse her position. Maybe her clients will take issue with her and David, but you shouldn’t.”

  The backs of her eyes burning, Connie could only nod her thanks to Colt. But he was ri
ght about her clients. They deserved better. She sought out Joe’s gaze. His mouth was pressed into a flat line, and Connie’s heart thudded in her chest.

  “Joe? I wanted to keep my private life private, but Colt’s right. I shouldn’t have kept that information from you and the rest of CCWP. I’ll understand if you want a new attorney, and if you want to file a charge against me with the Michigan Bar Association. I won’t fight it.”

  Rubbing his palms over both cheeks, Joe blew out a breath. “I can’t say I’m happy about it. Not after everything Carelli’s done. What he stands for.” He held his hands out, palms up. “Can you honestly tell me that your relationship had no effect on your work for us?”

  “Yes.” Connie held his gaze. “I honestly can. I kept my private life separate. And David respected that.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “Carelli doesn’t respect anything. Or anyone.” The look of pity he shot her brought her blood to a simmer. Hers and David’s relationship might have imploded, but she knew she hadn’t been some toy he’d used for fun. What they’d had was real. And she was getting awfully tired of everyone in this town misjudging him. He took his business seriously and he played to win, but he was so much more than that. And no one in this damn town was willing to—

  “He respects Connie.” Sadie stepped up next to Colt. She gave Connie a warm smile. “Whatever else you accuse him of, don’t lay that charge against him. I’ve heard him talk about her.”

  Connie swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. All she could do was nod her thanks to the woman.

  Sadie elbowed Colt, her eyebrows disappearing beneath her fringe of bangs. “And what did you tell me last night?”

  One corner of Colt’s lips twitched up, and Sadie’s cheeks flushed pink. “Not that, perv. About David.”