Page 9

“Sorry to hear that. Must’ve been awful for you.” The gruff words startle me. I’m so busy pushing my own thoughts away that I’m not expecting him to linger on them.

“I, um, barely remember the actual event. My sisters had it harder in that respect. I’m the youngest, so, you know…I’m the fun, easygoing one in the family. Don’t take anything too seriously.”

This is far more than I ever tell people, especially within an hour of meeting them, but he’s already opened up about his custody stuff, so it feels okay to reciprocate. “It’s more just not having them around, never knowing them.”

“I…can’t even imagine.”

His wrung-out look is pure anguish and exhaustion, tinged with raw emotion and care for his son that he can’t hide. I wish the combination didn’t look so good on him. I suppose gawking at him will be my reward for what I agreed to do if he wants that.

Luke runs a hand through his hair again, tousling it some more. I want to tell him to stop doing that because it makes him look less like a concerned father and more like a model.

Finally, he nods. I do the same. We stand there, heads bobbing at each other as though we agree, although I’m not sure what we agreed to.

“Look, real talk. I’m scared to death of losing custody of my son, and my ex has a shit ton more money than me to throw at this case to make sure she wins.”

“Okay, then. We’re a couple until you win this case.” I loop my arm through his, noticing how stiff he is. And how hard his bicep is under my hand.

“And if there’s anything I can do for you, just name it.”

I look up at Luke, gauging his sincerity. “Do you know anything about fighting a speeding ticket?”

His eyes narrow. “That’s why you’re here? You got a traffic ticket?”

“Yes.”

“How fast were you going?” He crosses his arms and tips his head to the side. Suddenly, I feel judged.

I mimic his stance, unwilling to concede an inch of ground. “Not that fast.”

A sound emerges that almost sounds like a disbelieving laugh, but it can’t be because this guy lacks all signs of a sense of humor.

“I’m sure. The highway patrol always gives out tickets to people going ‘not that fast.’”

I dig the ticket out of my purse and hand it to him. “Eighty-five?!” he practically shouts, his deep voice echoing. My defenses go up again. I take a step backward. He stares some more at the ticket, then his voice drops to a normal level. “Hang on. This guy is a judge pro tem. He’s retired and fills in when they need him. Good guy.”

“So you know him?”

Luke nods. “I sold him a couple of horses when he retired so he could take his grandkids up the bridle paths. Come on, let’s see if we can find him.”

He starts walking back up the courthouse steps, taking them two at a time. There’s an urgency he didn’t seem to have a few minutes earlier when his dread was palpable. Maybe it helps to have a distraction from his case. I scramble up the steps to keep up with him, stopping at the top where he’d been holding the heavy door open for me.

With the sun shining directly on him like a Kleig light, I take in the whole of him once more. Broad shoulders, long legs, cowboy boots under a dark pair of slacks that hang from his sturdy hips and hug his thick quads. His chambray shirt skims his pecs and tucks into a narrow waist, where a gleaming belt buckle looks shined with pride. If I were here looking for a hookup, this man would be a prime candidate.

As I pass through the courthouse door, I shove that thought away. The guy has baggage the weight of a semi, and I’ve already signed up for more than I bargained for.

Trailing after him, I try to match his strides, but his long legs are no match for mine. He jogs up a set of stairs and walks down a long corridor with offices on both sides. I barely have time to read the name plaques outside each closed brown door as we pass them, but I do catch a couple that say “Honorable.” Apparently, he knows his way around.

When we reach the last door, Luke knocks and waits to hear a muffled “yes” before pushing it open. Behind a desk, a man looks over his computer monitor, and his face breaks into a smile when he recognizes Luke. He appears middle-aged based on his thinning salt-and-pepper hair and the creases around his eyes, but it’s his joy at seeing Luke that warms the room. He immediately stands and comes around the desk to clap Luke on the back and embrace him.

“Luke, I saw your name on the mediation calendar. Was hoping you’d stop by.”

“Yes, yes, wouldn’t miss a chance to say hello. How’re the girls?”

“Oh, they’re growing like weeds. Jasmine’s starting middle school in the fall. They still love to ride. Sometimes I think it’s more of a draw than seeing me.”

“Naw, they love their grampa. Don’t let anyone say different.” Luke still doesn’t smile, but I almost hear a grin in his voice, which may be the closest he gets.

This is the most animated he’s been since I crashed into him an hour ago, and the transformation kind of gobsmacks me. He’s easygoing in a country boy, aw shucks sort of way. The retired judge clearly likes him. I hope the mediator will get to see this genial side of him.