"Maybe I should talk to him and see if he wants to sue for…"
"Ms. Mills, let's just cut all of our losses and walk away."
Her lips twitched wanting to smile, but she refrained. Now she needed to get her coffee back before Abe drank it all.
Chapter 7
With Ben off on his honeymoon, in Disney World with his wife and kids, Gerald was picking up the slack. The bonus was he was staying at Ben's house while he was gone. Ah, the bachelor life, he thought humorously as he ate a ham sandwich over the sink taking in his brother's view of the ranch.
The prefabricated house had been the perfect addition to Ben's allotted piece of land. Who could have predicted that he'd fill the house with an entire family in less than a year?
Todd had agreed to help out a little more on the ranch since he, too, had no life. His brother Eric continued to do as much as he could, but with kids now, it made it a little harder to be useful any time of day, especially if his wife Susan had a catering job—and thanks to Lydia, Susan always had a catering job.
Gerald didn't much mind the extra work. He honestly had nothing more to live for than the production that happened on the ranch. He was the last to still live in the main house with his parents. Perhaps he thought he owed them the loyalty since he didn't have a mortgage or rent to pay. Then again, at thirty-one maybe that was the saddest statement of his life.
He was the last of the Walker men on his side to settle down—not for lack of trying. And wasn't it amazing that even in his thoughts everything circled back to Ella Mills?
Washing down the sandwich with a Pepsi he'd found in the refrigerator, he thought about how grateful he was to be spending the week out at his brother's. His mother hadn't had the chance to ask him about not coming home after the wedding. It wouldn't be long before she knew he'd spent the night at Lydia's. It wasn't like she'd scold him and treat him like a child, but having his mother know when he stayed with a woman, sexual or not, was a bother.
He should think about putting a house out on the ranch just like Ben had. They'd each been promised acreage to build on, and Ben had a fabricated house dropped there the year earlier, and it was beautiful. It wouldn't take much for Gerald to do that too.
His chosen piece of land was beyond Eric's on the far north side of the property. The more he thought about it, the more he decided he'd better start making plans. He didn't want to be standing in his brother's kitchen ten years down the road wishing he didn't live at home. If he thought about it hard, he could work himself up into a fury over not having a house and a family to go home to. Yeah, he could hash it out in his head over and over, just as he had done for years. It just wasn't worth it anymore.
As he rinsed off his plate and sat it in the sink, he thought about the pictures that had been taken of him and Lydia. It had been a long time since someone kissed him as she had. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he had enjoyed it. Here he had been spending all his time being worked up over someone who had dumped him and married his friend, and all the while, Lydia had been right there.
Sure, if he made a move on her, Phillip Smythe would probably have him arrested for something. There was no denying the man's feelings for her. However, everyone in town knew how much she despised him.
Maybe he should think more about her retracted proposal. He and Lydia were both good-looking, headstrong people. Why shouldn't they be together?
Then, he thought about Ella, and what an ass he had been to her. Yeah, she deserved it, but it was eating at him enough he knew he owed her an apology. His dad had ordered tires from his cousin Jake, and Gerald was being sent to pick them up in town, so he might as well stop by and apologize to Ella, and then maybe he would drop in and see what Lydia was doing for dinner.
Ella sat at her desk going over new information she had on Nichole's identity theft case. They had tracked down all of the open accounts and purchases that had been made under her name. Of course, when someone stole someone else's identity, something else always popped up after the case was closed. But she felt confident that Nichole could go forward with a normal life and not have to worry about the woman who now resided in jail.
In addition to the morning where she hadn't had to be in court after all, and she'd managed to get her coffee back from Abe without even a sip having been taken, she thought it was a great day. And then Gerald Walker slipped through her door, a bag from the deli in one hand and drink carrier in the other.
Nothing came to mind to say. She stared at him, looking all sexy and rugged in his jeans, dirty boots, and his T-shirt marred by something he must have leaned up against earlier.
"Do you have time for lunch?" he asked, his dark eyes shielded by his sunglasses.
"Lunch? Right. Um, sure," she stammered as she rose from behind her desk and walked toward him taking the bag from him.
Gerald slipped off his sunglasses, and those dark eyes pierced her chest. She'd missed gazing into them.
"If you're too busy…"
Ella shook her head. "Actually, I've had a perfect day, and I'm free," she interrupted as she walked back to her desk and sat down.
"Good." He followed and set the tray with two iced teas, super sweet she assumed, on the desk. "I know I promised not to be a ‘drop in’ kind of friend, but…"
"It's no problem."
"So why has your day been so good?"
Ella pulled the sandwiches out of the bag and laid them out. "Charges were dropped against my innocent client, and I think we finally have Nichole's case all wrapped up, too."
"Then you're right. It has been a good day." He jabbed a straw through the lid of one of the cups and handed it to her. "I guess this turned into a celebration lunch."
"I'm still curious about there being lunch at all."
Gerald tucked his sunglasses on the neck of his shirt and leaned in, his arms on the desk. "I owe you an apology."
"You do?"
"I was an ass on Saturday, and I'm sorry."
Ella eased back in her seat. "Exactly which part are you sorry for?"
Gerald raised a brow. "I'm sorry I egged you on in the car. You were nice enough to give me a ride, and I poked and prodded until you drove away mad. For that I'm sorry."
She'd genuinely hoped he'd apologize for kissing Lydia too, but that would be stupid. He didn't owe her an apology for that.
Gerald put a straw through the lid of his drink and took a long sip. "You missed one hell of a party."
Ella picked up her sandwich and noticed that she had nearly squeezed her fingers right through the bread. Easing up, she took a breath. "My evening was just fine."
Gerald picked up his sandwich and took a bite. "Good. What did you do?"
Perhaps she should make up some grand story. Wouldn't he love to hear how she went out, danced, took some stranger home just for the fun of it? The thought tickled her brain, but it didn't reach her heart.
"I drank some wine, watched some TV, and cleaned."
That was when he raised his eyes and met hers. Oh, he understood what it meant for her to say she cleaned. Would he call her out on it? He did suddenly look a little nervous.
Gerald took the napkin and wiped it across his lips. "Then I'm really sorry. If your house is as clean as I assume it is, I made you pretty mad."
She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. "How come you assume that just because I cleaned it meant I was mad? Perhaps I just like a tidy atmosphere. Maybe, I had planned to go home the entire time. Saturday is usually the day that I clean," she said with her lips getting tighter and her voice rising in pitch. Also, wouldn't he like to know that she been mad long enough that she cleaned all Sunday?
"I didn't come to pick a fight." He opened his hand to emphasize the food on the table. "I brought an olive branch for having started a fight in the beginning. Cut me some slack. I'm just a guy."
That was right, she thought. He was just a guy. Just a guy who carried a chip on his shoulder for her, and she deserved it. Although most guys would
n't come to apologize to someone they didn't think a lot of, so something told her that deep down inside he still cared for her.
"Thank you for lunch."
"It was my pleasure."
Chapter 8
Gerald took his time to drive out to his cousin's garage and pick up the tires his father had ordered. He'd let Jake and his wife, Missy, show him their new race car, and go over it in detail, but he didn't pay much attention to it. His mind was elsewhere bouncing between his sudden desperate need to befriend Ella, and wondering if Lydia was going to think he was crazy wanting to take her to dinner.
As he drove into town, he thought some more about the house he wanted to build. Maybe he'd even buy a camper to put there for the time being. The idea humored him more than he could have imagined. Lydia would have a connection to someone selling a camper he was sure of it. She had the largest network of people he'd ever known.
Gerald pulled into the parking lot behind the reception hall and could hear Lydia yelling the moment he stepped out of his truck. Then, he noticed the police cruiser parked on the street. There was no need to wonder who Lydia was yelling at.
Humored, he slowly walked through the back door and into the dimly lit, empty hall.
"You know that I would never have allowed that to happen." Her voice carried from her office just beyond the dance floor.
"And you were in no position to keep it from happening," Phillip's voice was calm.
"My staff would never serve someone underage. You know the standard I hold them to."
"Lydia, the point is—"
"Take your point and shove it up your—" she stopped short when she saw Gerald standing just beyond the door. "Gerald," she said acknowledging him.
Gerald smiled at her, and then turned a nod toward Phillip. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
He watched the vein pulse at Phillip's temple. "I don't seem to be getting anywhere with her anyway." Phillip turned his attention back to Lydia. "You know this could be your liquor license."
"And if you take my liquor license, I'll go after your badge. I did nothing wrong here, and you know it."
Phillip brushed his fingers over the rim of his hat and then slipped it on his head. "I'll be in touch," he said before walking out of the room.
Lydia fell into the chair behind her desk and pressed her fingers to her eyes. "I swear to God he makes stuff up just to come in here and talk to me."
"What was that about?"
"There was some trouble after the reception the other night. Drunk kids were vandalizing. Someone decided they got drunk at the reception. But not this reception. Not at my location." She fisted her hands. "My servers would never serve somebody underage. I don't care if I was paying attention or not. They would not have done it."
"I'm sure Phillip believes you."
"Sure. That's why he was in here." She stood and paced behind her desk. "He believes me. But who the hell would believe me when I was drunk off my ass? He saw me kissing you out on the street. I'm not sure anybody missed it."
A dinner date wasn't seeming too plausible right now, he thought. "Lydia, I'm sorry."
Her head snapped up, and the crease deepened between her brows. "You're sorry for what?"
"For what happened the other night."
"Did you pour the drinks down my throat? Are you the reason I made bad decisions that night?"
"I don't think you made a single bad decision."
"I didn't pay attention to my business, Gerald." She sat back down and pulled her notebook toward her. "I let my judgment slide that night. I should've been paying attention."
"You should've been having fun at your friends' reception. The reason you have such a great reputation in this town is that you work your ass off. Anyone who doesn't know that is just stupid. You deserved to blow off some steam. You deserve to have some fun. And it is nobody's business who kissed you on the street or who took you home."
Her eyes lifted, and the fury had diffused. "I love you, Gerald Walker. You're a good man."
He thought it was funny that she could tell him she loved him and it sounded just a bit sisterly.
"I want to take you to dinner."
She let out a sigh and shook her head. "Thank you. But I have a lot of fires to put out now. If I find out that one of my servers served somebody underage, that could mean my liquor license. I don't think it happened, but I have to be vigilant in finding out."
"You're sure you don't need dinner?"
Lydia sat forward in her chair and studied him. "I'm going to say this, and it stays right here. Are you trying to build on what happened the other night?"
He opened his mouth to shoot down the idea of what she just said, but that would be a lie. He tried to think of something, but she laughed and eased back in her chair again.
"Gerald, if that were the case, I would be flattered. Let's say I don't have it in me to start anything with anyone. Though, if that was what you were doing, I consider myself one lucky gal."
And just like that, she had defused the situation in which he had found himself speechless.
"If you change your mind about dinner, you call me."
Lydia smiled at him and then pushed her dark bangs from her forehead. "I'll do just that."
"I almost forgot, do you know anyone who is selling a camper?"
As expected, Lydia had a connection to a trailer. A week after having made an ass of himself in her office, Gerald stood on his promised piece of land and examined the vintage Airstream which had just been delivered.
The silver metal shone in the sunlight, and the rolling acreage behind it made for one pretty picture, he thought. He might not even need a real house. He could build himself a little patio, or dig a fire pit and just put chairs around it. The possibilities were endless.
The interior needed a little work, but he was handy enough. Seriously, he never thought that he'd be giddy to move into a camper just to get out of the house in his thirties. And as he looked out over the vastness between his small piece of land and the distance to where his parents' home sat, unseeable from his vantage point, he realized this was a step in becoming an adult, and it was about damn time.
The main house was home. It would always be home. And, had he gotten married years ago, he would have moved out then, but that hadn't happened.
Just like that, he was standing in a field blaming his lot on life on Ella's decision not to marry him—again. If anything made him slightly juvenile, it was holding on to the rejection. She had a reason for what she did. He wasn't the right husband for her at that time. Just because he didn't understand the reasoning behind it, didn't mean it hadn't been the right thing at the right time.
Now he stood there and watched the sun set behind his place—temporary place. No matter how long he would live in the used trailer, he was ecstatic to be on his own.
He saw the dust kicking up on the road. Someone knew where he was and was coming for a visit. Luckily, his first purchase after the trailer was a case of beer and two lawn chairs. It looked like whoever was coming his was going to be his first guest.
Gerald walked into the trailer to retrieve them each a beer.
Chapter 9
Gerald looked out the small window over the sink and saw an old pickup truck driving toward him. If he didn't know better, that was Phillip Smythe's truck, though he didn't drive it too often.
Gerald stepped out of the trailer, a beer in each hand, just as Phillip parked the truck next to his, and climbed out.
"Congratulations, you're my first guest. Got time for a beer?" Gerald asked, acknowledging the bottles he held.
Phillip wasn't dressed in his uniform. Instead, he looked as if he, too, had just walked off the ranch. His boots were old and worn, his jeans frayed on the bottom, and his belt buckle proved he'd done more than arrest the low lives in town, he'd held on to a bull or two. His red plaid shirt was tucked in, and the brim of his hat had seen its share of rain and sun.
"Just found out you had a place," he said.
"Lydia let me know of a guy who was selling it when I was looking for something to put out here."
"Time to move out of the folks' house, huh?"
"Yeah. You want to sit down?" Gerald offered, still holding the beer he'd taken out for Phillip.
"No. I came to talk to you, man to man."
Gerald scanned another look over the solemn man who wasn't standing in front of him on official business. Feeling a bit out of place in his own yard, he took the beers, set them on the front step, and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Okay, what do we have to talk about?"
Phillip took off his hat and ran his fingers over the worn fabric of the brim. "Lydia."
Why that hadn't crossed Gerald's mind, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was because Lydia hated the man who seemed so intimidating in civilian clothing.
"She's okay, right?"
"Sure. Sure. I just want to know what's going on between the two of you."
Gerald decided he needed the beer now. He took one, twisted off the cap, shoving it in his pocket before taking a long pull. "What does it matter? Lydia is a grown woman who makes her own decisions."
"She does. She makes a lot of decisions. I want to know what she's decided to do with you."
Gerald ran his tongue over the front of his teeth. "There haven't been any decisions made. I'm not sure what this is all about."
"I'm just asking. I recently found out you spent the night at her house after your brother's wedding."
Gerald was sure that news traveled faster than that. That had been a week ago, and only now Phillip Smythe had a problem with it?
"I took Lydia home after the wedding. She'd enjoyed herself quite a bit, and I offered her a ride."
"But you didn't leave."
"No, I didn't." There was nothing left to say as far as Gerald was concerned. "So, if that's all…"
"Someone dropped me a text with a picture of the two of you kissing."
Gerald thought about the text that Lydia had also received. "Someone got a lot of mileage out of that picture. Yes, we kissed."
Walker Defense Page 4