“Oh, I’m sorry. Had no idea. That can’t be easy.”
She looked down at her lap. “No, it isn’t.”
“Well,” recovered Garner, “what say we get that food?”
She was happy for the distraction, and they made their way to the buffet, which offered an amazing assortment of temptations that evening. Cara resisted the heavier fare, choosing baked chicken and veggies, although she could not deny herself some of the macaroni and cheese.
“So, Court of Appeals,” Garner said plainly, as his fork hovered over his food once they’d returned to the table. His plate was piled high with fried chicken and, she noticed with envy, generous dollops of both macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes.
“What is there to discuss? We both want the appointment, right?”
He nodded as he swallowed a bite of roll. “I’ll have to say I was surprised when I heard you were interested in the spot.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re a district court judge, and most judges at that level focus on moving up to the next level, to circuit court, before trying to get on the appellate bench. Why are you interested in the seat rather than circuit court?”
“Because Rachel and Brady have no designs on higher office. We all ate lunch together yesterday. You had to see that they’re happy where they are.”
“But if there’s no open circuit court seat, you could still run against one of them.”
“I’d never do that. Rachel and Brady are very well respected.”
“Have you ever run a contested race?” he asked although Cara thought he already knew the answer. She felt like she was being interrogated and didn’t like it.
“No, you?”
“No, been lucky in that regard. I think my name scared off rivals, to tell you the truth.”
“And is that what you’re trying to do to me right now?”
A small pause, then he smiled. “No. Just assessing the competition.”
“And what have you learned?”
“That I have my work cut out for me.”
“You plan to run for the seat even if you don’t get the appointment?”
She could tell by his look of surprise that the possibility of not getting the appointment hadn’t crossed his mind.
“Yes, of course,” he recovered, picking up a huge clump of macaroni and cheese on his fork.
“You?”
“Of course,” she parroted.
“Look, you got me,” he admitted. “I did try to meet with you to size you up. I’d almost worked up enough nerve to ask you not to seek the appointment.”
She nearly dropped her fork.
“The fact that you would not only think such a thing but admit it are probably the two most arrogant things I’ve heard in my life.”
“But at least I didn’t ask,” he said, smiling and continuing to attack his food. “So I’m not completely horrible.”
“Aren’t you the charming rogue?”
“You said it, not me.”
“And perhaps I was trying to be polite and not say something even worse.”
“Well played,” he said, dipping his head. “But you can’t blame me for thinking it.”
She wanted to say, I’m not so sure about that, but held her tongue.
If Garner had come to this meeting with the idea that he would be the one to walk away with more information about her than she would of him, he had sorely overestimated his own abilities. He was undoubtedly a man accustomed to getting whatever he wanted and making few apologies for how he achieved his ends.
Hiding hubris behind a façade of affability was a good move. Perhaps the only move he had if Garner wanted to be perceived as a nice guy.
Cara silently thanked Drake for the warning about her competition, and for the remainder of the meal, Cara said very little. She let Garner do the talking, something at which he excelled. She learned of his background, including where he went to school and his family. In return, Cara gave up very little of her own life, only that her husband had been a real estate developer.
Tired of his self-aggrandizement, she pulled out a weapon to deflate that burgeoning ego.
“I think we have a mutual acquaintance,” she said. “CiCi Summers, the Craig County Circuit Court Clerk?”
His satisfied smile vanished, and she knew she’d hit her mark.
“Yes, I’ve met CiCi Summers. She was a speaker at the conference here last year, if I remember correctly, and we served on a court rules committee before I got appointed to the bench.”
After CiCi’s name-drop, Garner was noticeably quieter.
When she suggested sweets after they’d finished dinner, Garner declined and said that he wanted some coffee. She asked him to order decaf for her and off to the dessert bar she went. After snagging the last piece of pecan pie and feeling unreasonably smug for that feat as well as her comeuppance of dining companion, she turned to head back to the table. She got no farther than a few steps away from the dessert bar before she froze.
Garner was standing at the table, his visitor none other than Selena Cormack.
“Oh, there you are,” Garner said upon her arrival at the table. “That pie looks good. I might have to reconsider not getting dessert. So do you know each other?” he asked, pointing back and forth between the women.
“Yes, we do,” said Cara, unable to project any warmth in her voice. “How are you, Selena?”
“Doing well. But I see I’m interrupting your dessert, so I’ll be off,” Selena said, looking away from Cara and then back to Garner. “Give Penny my best, Garner, and good to see you.”
Selena hastened away from the table, and Garner excused himself to the dessert table, leaving her momentarily and contentedly alone with her pie and coffee.
Outside, the weather had turned. Gray clouds had rolled over the park, and the waning light of the setting sun had markedly diminished. The small lake was dark and churning instead of shining, and the wind whipped the trees, a portent of the approaching storm. Cara ate hastily since she had to walk back to her cabin and didn’t relish the idea of doing so in the middle of a thunderstorm or being trapped in the main lodge while the storm passed.
By the time Garner returned with a small bowl of ice cream, Cara was more than halfway done with her pie. With minimal chitchat, they finished, charged the meals to their rooms, and left. As they were leaving the dining room and moving into the lobby area, Cara heard the unmistakable crash of rain on the lodge roof and muttered a mild oath.
“I’ve got a cabin,” she explained when Garner asked her what was wrong. “And I didn’t bring an umbrella with me.”
The lobby was crowded with other guests taking refuge from the deluge. She walked to the front doors with Garner and saw people standing outside under the porch, waiting for the storm to pass and watching in awe as it unleashed its power in sheets of rain.
But Cara saw something more startling than a nasty storm.
Standing at the edge of the porch was Selena Cormack, her right arm wrapped Drake’s waist, and his left arm draped over Selena’s shoulders. Wearing shorts and a red polo shirt, Drake looked like he was a guest at the lodge.
What was he doing here? He’d mentioned he might come see her on Thursday, and their last communication by text had confirmed that had been his intention.
And why the hell was he standing with his ex-girlfriend?
A flash of lightning, followed in the next second by an explosion of thunder, caused Selena and Drake to jump back and fall away from each other. Drake pointed over his shoulder, indicating they needed to go inside. When he caught sight of Cara’s face, he brightened and waved, but Cara didn’t feel as earnest and only offered him a curt nod. Drake again gestured toward the lodge lobby. When turning to reenter the building, Selena’s expression soured upon seeing Cara waiting inside.
“Long time, buddy,” Garner said, extending his hand to Drake as the latter entered the lodge lobby with Selena close behind. “What brings you here on a s
tormy night? Are you a speaker?”
Drake took the hand and shook it, casting an eye on Cara.
“No, I came to see my friend here,” he said, nodding to Cara.
“Your… oh, I see,” Garner said, cluing in to Drake’s meaning.
“And I thought you were coming over on Thursday,” Cara said.
“I decided to drop by earlier.”
“Gotta go,” said Selena from the periphery of the group. “Good to see you all.”
“You too,” Drake said, pulling her into a hug. “Sorry about your mom.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Selena said before hurrying off.
The trio watched as Selena headed down a corridor and out of sight.
“Her mother?” asked Garner.
Drake nodded. “She just told me her mother had a heart attack last month. I’d heard she’d been ill but didn’t know the circumstances. First time I’d seen Selena in weeks even to say hello.”
“Didn’t know that. She didn’t mention it to me earlier when I saw her in the dining room. Anyway,” Garner said, moving away, “I’ll be on my way, seeing as how you two apparently have business,” he said with a smile. “Wish I’d brought an umbrella. I’ll have to walk to my cabin in this mess.”
Cara and Drake remained silent as they watched Garner dash into the rain and disappear into the grayness of the storm.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming tonight?” Cara asked, turning to Drake.
“And hello to you too,” he threw back. “What’s the problem with being surprised?”
“Sorry. It was just that eating dinner with Judge Robson and seeing Selena put my nerves on edge.”
“I can understand why you’d feel that way after being with Garner. He hasn’t changed a bit. But why Selena?”
“I’ll tell you sometime,” she said, trying to rebuff him and not ready to talk.
Drake took her hand. “How about now? Something’s got you upset, and I’d like to know why. Is it because I dated her? I know I had my arm around her outside, but she’d just told me about her mother.”
She looked away, feeling awkward standing in the middle of the lobby. “Can we not talk about it here?”
“Sure, but where do we go? Dare you take me back to your room?”
“I don’t have a room. I have a cabin.”
“Even better.”
“Except we’d have to walk through that to get to it,” she said, pointing outside. It was still coming down in buckets, as though the sky had been unzipped and the heavens unleashed.
“Do not underestimate my resourcefulness.” Drake pulled her out of the lobby to the front porch.
“You’d better not be suggesting we make a dash for it.”
He shook his head and pointed to the ground where an open, golf-sized umbrella rested near the windows.
“That’s mine and I’m parked not too far away. I’ll drive us to your humble abode, provided you don’t mind giving directions.”
“You’d better grab something to eat before we go anywhere. I don’t have anything at the cabin.”
“I already ate. I remembered you had that date with Garner.”
“I wish you’d crashed my date. Because Garner was a crashing bore.”
“I warned you about him.”
“You did, but that doesn’t mean the experience was any less horrible.”
“Then you need to tell me all about it.”
With a nod she relented. They tucked themselves under his umbrella and sprinted toward his Jeep.
Her cabin was not far by foot, but the road there was a bit of a tangle, especially in the pouring rain. At times, visibility on the access road was practically nil, producing a nerve-wracking albeit mercifully short ride.
Upon arrival at the cabin, the first thing she noticed was the gargantuan puddle which had appeared right in front of the steps leading up to the front door.
“That’s going to be a challenge,” Drake said, smiling as he parked next to Cara’s car.
“You like this weather, don’t you?”
“Well, my name is Drake, isn’t it?”
She stared at him blankly until it hit her what he meant.
“Talk about name as destiny! I never thought of that! So is that why you like the water so much?”
“No idea, but my mother certainly nailed my personality, didn’t she?”
The rain continued unabated, the puddle wasn’t going anywhere, and she had a headache. The choices were to either sit in the hot, stuffy Jeep in hopes that the storm would soon pass or to make a dash for it and hopefully be able to leap over the puddle.
“This brings back a few memories,” she said, smiling.
“So you wanna stay in the Jeep?” he asked, moving toward her.
“Have a suggestion about how to pass the time?”
His answer was to reach for her face with both hands and pull her to his lips, a move which surprised her yet felt perfectly right. Within seconds she was transported back in time three months, to that hot, hazy day in Littleham when they’d first kissed.
Cara broke away first, looked at Drake, who had a drowsy and hungry look in his eyes, and smiled.
“As much fun as this is, I’d rather go inside.”
“Even through all this rain?” he asked. “Why not stay nice and dry and cozy in here? At least for a few more minutes?”
“Let’s make a break for it. We won’t get too wet. The door’s not far away. And we can get even cozier inside.”
Drake drew back from her and looked at her askance. “Can we?”
“Follow me inside and find out.”
She grabbed her purse from the seat, opened the door, and burst from the Jeep, making a mad dash for the door before she could think the better of her plan.
The rain drenched her at once, and she could not avoid stepping in puddles as she made for the porch. Once she reached the massive puddle, Cara managed to grab the handrail and hoist herself up on the first step, miraculously avoiding the pool of water.
Drake was right behind her, and before she could turn and duck under the cover of the porch, she saw him struggling with how best to avoid the puddle. Placing his left hand on the railing, Drake reached out to her with his right. Cara grabbed the hand and pulled him toward her but lost her footing on the rain-slickened porch.
She slipped, slid down the stairs, and landed flat on her ass in the puddle, with Drake falling on top of her. The splash they made together was strangely satisfying, even in the deluge.
Cara groaned loudly since the stairs had not been kind to her backside and hoped that the force of having a large man fall squarely on top of her had not broken any ribs or harmed any other bits of her anatomy.
“Cara!” Drake cried, trying to get up. Instead, he fell again.
And directly into the puddle.
She giggled, despite their predicament, and managed to prop herself into a sitting position, her rear still in the water, the rain still lashing them.
Drake rolled over on his side, then sat up and looked at her. They both burst into laughter.
“So much for not getting wet,” he said.
With effort, he pushed himself to his feet and offered Cara his hand and pulled her up. They retreated to the shelter of the porch, and Cara retrieved her purse from the stairs (it was a minor miracle it had not landed in the puddle). After shaking and wringing what water they could from themselves, they entered the cabin.
“I don’t have many towels,” Cara said. “I’m not sure how we’re going to dry off.” She slipped out of her sandals, leaving them in the small foyer.
Drake entered behind her and immediately kicked off his shoes and removed his sodden T-shirt. “I’d better go back outside and wring this out some more,” he said.
She turned to see him leaving and had just enough time to glance at his bare chest.
Cara tossed her purse on a table behind the door to the left and moved to the kitchen, hoping to find some paper towels to pat herself dry.
She found a few tea towels and managed to blot some of the worst of the sogginess but realized that the only solution to getting dry was to ditch her clothes.
After a minute, Drake reentered the cabin, sans shirt and his shorts looking a wrinkled mess.
“Left the shirt draped over one of the chairs on the porch,” he explained as she continued to scrutinize his attire or lack thereof, a tea towel still in her grip.
“What happened to your shorts?”
Drake looked down at the mangled mess. “I took them off on the porch and wrung them out as best I could,” he explained.
“You were out there only in your underwear?”
“Why do you assume I was wearing underwear?”
She dropped the towel. “What?”
“Kidding, Cara, just kidding,” Drake said, approaching her and moving toward the kitchen area.
She threw the towel onto the table and put her hands on her hips.
“Stop teasing the court, Mr. Mercer,” she cautioned as he moved to stand squarely before her.
“I’m not teasing the court. I’m teasing you. I can’t practice before you any longer, remember?”
He placed his hands on her hips and slowly slid them around to her rear. Even when they’d been together at the nature preserve, he hadn’t touched her much there, and she took his move as a clear signal as to how he wanted the evening to progress.
“You want to get out of those clothes?” he asked. “I mean, they’re very wet. Don’t misunderstand me—I didn’t—” he stammered.
So he was just as nervous as she was.
“I would like to get these off,” she said and moved toward the bedroom at the back of the cottage. “In the meantime, if you want to put your clothes in the dryer, it’s right here,” Cara said, motioning to a stacked washer-dryer combo outside the door to the bedroom.
“But—um—I don’t have anything to wear—”
“I’ll get you a bath towel. I can stay in the bedroom until you give the all clear.”
“You don’t want to see me in the towel?”
“I’m afraid that if I see you in the towel, I’ll want to see you out of it,” she said, slamming her bedroom door behind her.
Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3) Page 66