Page 21 of One Night Years Ago

“I’ve been thinking of the other man,” Jesse said.

Hunter stopped with the next pebble in his hand. “What man, Jesse?”

“The man who threw her dress on the ground.”

Hunter’s hand shook. He hid it by placing it on his lap.

“There was a man?” he asked softly. He didn’t want to scare Jesse, but he should be recording this.

“Yes, a large man. He was hurting her. But then he took off and I picked up her yellow dress and brought it to her.”

“Hey, Jesse? Would you come with me to Natalie’s office and tell her about this?”

“Won’t it upset her? She was crying.”

“I think it will really help her.”

Jesse shrugged. “When do we do that? Today?”

“Maybe this afternoon. I need to go to town and talk to someone first.”

Chapter 9

Hunter

He looked at Helen and still saw the first girl he’d had sex with. She wasn’t a girl anymore. She was a beautiful woman … and a lawyer. She’d contacted him several times while he was in prison, asking to look into his case. She’d read up on it and couldn’t understand why he’d waived counsel, and why he wasn’t trying to get out on good behavior.

Hunter had ignored all her letters.

But today he needed Helen’s help. He sat in her office. It wasn’t a luxurious space, but it was clean and well-furnished. He noticed a few awards on the windowsill.

“You’ve done well for yourself, Helen.”

“I’m glad you like my office, Hunter. Is that why you came? To see the color I’d chosen for the walls?”

“Your tongue is as acidic as ever.”

She smiled a cheeky smile, looking much younger. “Garret thinks so too.”

“Is that your husband?” He found a small picture on a frame and picked it up.

“He’s my fiancé. We’re getting married next Christmas. That picture’s from one of my thin years,” she said, pointing at her curvy figure.

“You make a great couple. Congratulations,” he said honestly. He kept his eyes firmly on hers and away from the deep neckline of her dress, not wanting her to think him a lecherous fool.

“Thank you. To tell you the truth, Hunter, I’m surprised you’re here. You certainly didn’t show much interest in speaking to me in recent years.”

“I got your letters,” he said.

She walked out from behind her desk. She was wearing a white dress shirt and black pencil skirt that might have featured in some of his dreams after he’d read her letters in prison.

“I know you did. I checked with the warden.”

“Thank you for writing them. I’m sorry I didn’t reply. It just … wasn’t a good time.”

“You’re out now,” she said. “I’m glad. You’re one of the reasons I became a lawyer, you know? I have you to thank for helping me find a career I love.”

He raised his eyebrow in a questioning manner.