Only with You: A Second Chance Widower Small Town Romance (Annapolis Harbor Book 1)

by Lea Coll

  Dad: You should have said yes. You created a scene by saying no.

  I was embarrassed by the incident too, but I was more irritated that Layton would propose so publicly. If he knew me at all, he’d know I wouldn’t want something so personal to be played out in public. A second message came through before I could answer.

  Dad: Have you thought any more about coming to work for me?

  My fingers tightened on the phone. It was time I made my own decisions.

  Hadley: No, I don’t want to and I’m happy with that decision. I’m not going to change my mind.

  I turned off the ringer on my phone and opened a search page on my computer to look up the requirements to take the Maryland attorney exam.

  The idea of moving across the country where Dad couldn’t reach me sounded better and better.

  Chapter Three

  Cade

  Two months later…

  On the way to my Hapkido studio, I noticed the new fancy white wooden sign hanging from a black iron post which read Arrington, Gannon, & Winters, with smaller words underneath, General Practice Law Firm. My eyes lowered to the Free Consultation sign in the window of the office next door. Maybe this was a sign I should take the next step with my businesses.

  I opened the wooden door and stepped into the reception area. The reception desk held a computer screen and a standard office phone. There were indentations in the carpet from prior furniture or file cabinets. The walls were barren of frames, the only sound was a clock ticking. The air was musty and stale, as if no one had been here since the previous accounting firm vacated the premises.

  Did I need to hire an attorney?

  “Can I help you?” A young woman in a suit, her dark hair pulled tightly into a low bun, appeared with her brows raised. Her heels hadn’t made any noise on the threadbare carpet.

  I cleared my throat. “Um yeah, I wanted to talk to someone about my businesses.”

  “Of course.” She smiled apologetically, gesturing at the desk between us. “We just opened. We haven’t hired a receptionist yet.” Then she held her hand out to me. “I’m Avery Arrington.”

  “Cade Morrison. Nice to meet you.” I gripped her slender hand in mine.

  “What can I help you with?” She stood with her hands clasped in front of her as she waited for me to answer.

  “I own the Hapkido studio next door.” I gestured in the direction of my studio. “I’m also a contractor. I need a contract drawn up for the first and have an issue collecting payments with the second.”

  “Okay, let’s have a seat in my office. I’ll get more information from you.”

  A woman with long red hair, clad in a white silky-looking button-down shirt tucked into a curve-hugging skirt appeared in the doorway. “I can handle this one, Avery, so you can return the landlord’s call.”

  Avery’s face pinched. I got the impression she didn’t want to talk to the landlord. “Are you sure?”

  The other woman smiled. “I’m sure I don’t want to talk to him and you’re the one who’s been corresponding with him. I can meet with the new client.”

  Avery smiled tightly. “This is Hadley Winters. She’ll take care of you. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Morrison.”

  Hadley smiled as her eyes settled on mine. She grasped my hand, sending a tingle through my fingers. “Nice to meet you.”

  She was younger than me; she couldn’t have been out of law school for long. Her red hair fell around her face in waves, her smile reached her blue eyes.

  “Come into my office. We can discuss what you need.” I followed her to a small office and tried not to pay attention to the way her skirt accentuated her ass and her heels showed off toned legs. She sat behind her desk and gestured at the guest chairs across from her. “Have a seat.”

  I followed her instructions, glancing down at my sawdust-covered work clothes and muddy boots. I should have changed into different clothes before coming here.

  Bookshelves lined one wall, framed degrees hung on the wall behind her, and a potted plant rested on the windowsill overlooking a courtyard. Her office looked more settled-in than her lobby.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Morrison?” Ms. Winters asked, drawing my attention back to her.

  “I own the Hapkido studio next door and a contracting business. I want to take my businesses to the next level.” I shifted in my chair.

  “How so?” She folded her hands on the desk in front of her and tilted her head.

  “For my studio, I want students to sign yearly contracts with the money coming directly out of their credit card or bank account, so I have guaranteed steady income. Most of my students are minors, so this would be for their parents.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “How are they paying now?”

  I’d always been casual about my business, but I was reluctant to admit that. I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t a good businessman, but honesty was probably best. “Cash. It’s drop-in, so they show up when they can. Students come and go. It’s not consistent or steady.”

  Hadley winced. “It must be hard to know your income with that set-up. What about uniforms? Do you charge for them?”

  “Right now, I’m loaning them out.” I sighed. It sounded worse out loud than in practice. It was nice at first since I hadn’t wanted a commitment, but now I needed the money from the studio to fund a side endeavor, making homes handicapped accessible for those who couldn’t afford it. The recipients received partial grants for renovations. I’d used Caroline’s life insurance payout to make up the difference, but that money was dwindling. My expenses were tax deductible, but I needed another source of cash.

  “You need something in place. You’re running a business, not a charity. I can draft a membership contract for you and set up the automatic payments. We’ll just need to narrow down the incentives.”

  “Incentives?”

  “Yeah, you want the students to feel obligated to sign a longer contract. For example, you can charge less for each additional year. You can offer free uniforms if they sign up. Maybe offer a free trial for a week or two to encourage people to try out your place and see why it’s better than another one.”

  It sounded like she had some experience with small businesses, particularly karate-type studios. That made me more confident about hiring her. “Have you practiced Hapkido or something like it before?”

  Hadley nodded, her lips tilting into a smile. “I don’t remember the exact form, but I did for a few years. My mom didn’t approve, but she indulged me—” She bit her lip and it seemed like there was more to her statement. Her expression moved from happy to sad. “For awhile anyway.”

  “She didn’t see the importance of learning self-defense?”

  “My parents decided I should focus on my classes and piano lessons.” She waved a hand at me. “But enough about me, I’m here to help you. I’ll draft a few different options and you can decide which you’d prefer.”

  “If I agree to hire you.” My voice came out gruffer than I intended but I didn’t want her to think I was going to sign with her without knowing the fees or checking out other options.

  Disappointment crossed her face before she covered it with a small smile. “Of course. This is just a consultation.”

  I should have been grateful she’d let it go, but I was oddly disappointed. For some reason, I wanted to see her excited about retaining a new client.

  “Did you want to discuss your contracting business too?” Her tone was professional and her eyes held polite interest.

  “I started my contracting company four years ago. Customers pay installments as the work is completed, but I’m not great at following up for the final payment once the job is finished. The work is done, so there’s no incentive to pay that final check.”

  “There are legal steps you can take. Have you filed a mechanic’s lien on the homes?” She lifted her pen, her expression hopeful as she waited for a response.

  “No, I haven’t pursued it. I don’t know what the next step i
s honestly.” How could I explain that for the first couple of years after my wife died, I’d barely had enough energy to make it through the day much less chase people down for money? I enjoyed working with my hands and finishing a job—making someone’s house a home, but I wasn’t as good about the business side of things.

  “I can help. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “How much will it cost?” I leaned forward so that my elbows rested on my knees.

  “We can work out a set fee for each lien or payment we pursue, and I’ll get an estimate for the membership contract. I’ll confirm with Avery, but I think a few hundred dollars would be enough to draft one. We can also manage the payments and renewal of the contracts if you want.”

  I felt the weight on my chest slide and shift. It would be nice to hand these tasks to someone else, but it would also mean meeting with her again to finalize the contracts, to set up the payments, and to provide the overdue contracts for my construction business. Of course, her office was next door, so I’d see her from time to time anyway.

  The thought sent excitement flowing through my body. I hadn’t been attracted to anyone in a long time.

  “Do you have a list of jobs and contracts for the people who haven’t paid?”

  “I do. I keep a file cabinet in my studio for the contracting business.”

  She rose from her chair. “Well, I’d love to take a look at them. Since you’re right next door, I could get started right away. I have a feeling some of these contracts are old.”

  “Right now?” I asked, remaining seated.

  “Right. You haven’t hired me. Sorry, we just opened and I—” She flushed and sat down.

  I held my hands out to stop her. “I get it. You want your business to be successful too.”

  “Yes.” Her lips tilted up.

  That smile, directed at me, caused my heart to clench with an emotion I couldn’t put a word to—hope, longing, desire? If I’d met her before Caroline, I would have acted on this attraction. But not anymore. Guilt slid down my spine, leaving me cold.

  “Did you have any more questions for me?”

  I tried to focus on the questions I should be asking to determine if she was the right attorney. Not on how beautiful her eyes were or that if she leaned over slightly, I’d see the swell of her breasts under that silky shirt. “How long have you been in business? I know this office is new, but I’m not sure if you moved locations or—”

  “The firm is new, but we worked in other jobs before we opened the office.” She looked around sheepishly as if it should be apparent.

  “Do you have any clients?” I needed to figure out if Avery and Hadley were fresh out of law school or whether they had some experience.

  She slowly shook her head. “You’d be our first real client for this firm. We take overflow cases for the public defender’s office.”

  “How long have you been an attorney?” I’d couched this conversation as a fact-finding mission to determine if this was a solid business decision, but it satisfied my curiosity too.

  “Five years now. I recently moved here from Louisiana. I worked as a prosecutor for the U.S. Attorney’s office.”

  My brows raised. That was unexpected. That would make her twenty-eight or twenty-nine? Not as young as I thought. “Were you in court?”

  “Yes. I’m an experienced trial attorney.” She spoke with authority, as if she was proud of her job history.

  I wanted to know why she’d moved here from New Orleans. Why she’d leave a government job to start a firm? It was a risky thing to do. It made me want to know more about her.

  I rose from my chair with a sudden need to escape. “It was nice meeting you. I’ll be in touch if I decide this is what I want to pursue.”

  She stood, nodding, her face a careful professional mask, but I saw the flash of disappointment in her eyes before it was gone. “Of course, and I’ll send over an estimate for the things we discussed. Do you have an email, or would you prefer that I call you with the information?”

  I followed her to the front of the office. My heart raced at the idea of seeing her again. “I’m right next door. Why don’t you drop it off? I’m here most weekdays between four and six and Saturday mornings at ten.”

  “That would be nice. You can ask me any questions you have, too.” Her tone was strictly professional.

  I paused in the front reception area that was now empty. There was no sign of Avery, no one talking on the phone, no clack of keys like anyone was working. I was reluctant to leave despite my desire a few minutes ago.

  “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Morrison.” Hadley reached out her hand to me.

  I gripped hers, unable to look away from where her soft skin touched my calloused fingers. “You’re welcome to come to my adult class and try it out if you’d like.”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back. I shouldn’t want to see her again. I wasn’t sure if she was interested or that I was ready to move on.

  “I never pursued it after my parents made me quit.” She bit her lower lip as she thought.

  “Why not?” She’d gone to law school and she’d moved across the country to start a new firm. All of those facts told me she was hard-working and persistent. Those were great characteristics for someone learning Hapkido.

  “I was busy studying and then working. I’m also involved in a speech therapy nonprofit in New Orleans that took my free time.” Her face lit up when she talked about it and I wanted to know more.

  I wanted to tell her about my involvement with renovating homes to make them handicapped accessible. It was then I realized I still gripped her hand. I’d inadvertently pulled her closer to me. With a start, I dropped her hand and stepped back.

  Hadley’s face smoothed out. “Thanks for the offer. I might check a class out.”

  I nodded at her before leaving—unable to speak. I was shaken up that I’d touched her for longer than was necessary. What was I thinking?

  I stepped out onto the sidewalk. The sun warmed my neck. Meeting with Hadley had stirred up things I hadn’t thought or felt in such a long time. I wanted to be alone in the privacy of my office. I stepped inside the studio, locking the door behind me. I sat in my chair and dropped my head into my hands. I hadn’t wanted to reach out to anyone in years.

  When my wife was sick, I couldn’t stop holding her hand. I was scared that if I let go she’d be gone. Caroline and I had been married for only two years. We’d just started to discuss the possibility of trying for a baby when she experienced frequent headaches and dizziness. We’d gone to numerous appointments with the doctors initially saying she was too young for anything serious. We insisted on testing. She was eventually diagnosed with an aggressive brain tumor. After the surgeries and seizures, the doctors said they couldn’t do any more for her. She’d accepted her fate quicker than I had. She’d succumbed to the cancer which had ravished her body making her weak and a shell of the woman I’d married. The end was too quick yet at the same time, painfully slow.

  When I’d discovered Caroline took her last breath—I vowed never again. I wouldn’t put myself out there because it only ended in heartbreak. Nothing lasted forever.

  In the time after Caroline’s death, I couldn’t make any decisions. In the beginning, I couldn’t decide what to eat, so I didn’t. I couldn’t decide whether to work, so I didn’t return calls from potential clients. Her parents took over and made all the arrangements for the funeral. They handled the estate, the financial matters, life insurance, everything. They’d even bought our house so I could move away from the memories. They were strong when I wasn’t. I’d been weak and consumed with grief. I pushed everyone who meant anything to me away.

  I’d gradually improved over time. I’d slowly emerged from the haze of grief to do side jobs in construction. It was easier to handle grief if I was the boss. If I needed a day off, I took it.

  Lately, I craved more, a goal or a purpose beyond work or my charity. My heart lifted when
I saw Hadley. She intrigued me. Maybe it was time to finally move on.

  Chapter Four

  Hadley

  I watched Cade walk into his studio. He had this aura of sadness surrounding him that was palpable. There wasn’t a hint as to why the entire time I met with him. Personal history wasn’t necessary for his consult, but for the first time, I wanted to know why a client was sad.

  I couldn’t take my eyes away from him when I saw him talking to Avery. His wavy blond hair, worn, dusty jeans, muddy work boots, and navy T-shirt stretched taut over his biceps and pecs, with the words Morrison Construction over his heart, sent my heart racing. Cade was a man who worked with his hands and muscles all day long. Instead of it being a turn-off, it was sexy. Maybe there was a reason the men in my life in New Orleans didn’t hold any appeal for me—they were too polished and too perfect.

  When he left, I noticed his work truck parked at the curb, blue with white lettering that read Morrison Construction. There was no mention of a partner. The name didn’t indicate brother or sons, like so many other construction companies. Just Morrison Construction.

  Was he alone? Did he not have family? Was that the reason for his sadness? The real question was, why did it matter? He was a potential client. My first client. Whatever his history was, it wasn’t mine. My problems were that of a poor rich girl. Rich in material things all of her life but poor in what mattered—real and true friends, a loving family, care and support from family members versus nannies and teachers.

  Even if he looked at me with any interest, which he hadn’t, I didn’t have time for a relationship. I wanted to get the firm off the ground and expand my nonprofit.

  “How did it go? Do we have our first real case?” Avery asked from her office as I passed by.

  The small cases we’d gotten from the public defender’s office helped us learn the players in the court system, the attorneys and the judges, but we needed more substantial cases to pay the lease. “He’s not sure yet.”