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“He’ll get over it,” Tom repeated. “And he won’t disrespect you or anyone else on the team again.”
Mary was forty-five, but she looked a lot younger. Couple that with her small frame, curly blond hair and heart-shaped face, and she sometimes had trouble commanding respect. Actually, that wasn’t true. She commanded respect. Her men followed her orders to a T. But there were always a few holdouts on other teams who considered her authority an insult to their testicles.
She made it a policy never to show weakness in front of those assholes, and she hated giving away that she might be stressed.
“I already read the day’s report,” he said as he polished off a second cookie. “Everything’s in place for the trial?”
“Yes. You still think we’ll hear from the brother again?”
“I hope not,” Tom said, rolling his shoulders to release some of the tension. “But I’ve got a bad feeling. And the judge? How is he handling the detail?”
Mary shrugged. “He seems entirely comfortable with an entourage. Like he was born to it.”
Tom snorted. That was no big surprise. The judge was a blowhard and pretty damn impressed with his position in the community.
“He actually calls Wes his ‘driver.’”
Tom guffawed at how much that must chap Wes’s hide. “I’ve got to see that myself.”
Mary grinned. “It’s pretty awesome.”
They both turned toward the stairway when the door to the first floor opened, expecting Wes to head down, but these footsteps were soft and light.
A young woman Tom recognized as Veronica Chandler stuck her head past the wall, her blond hair swinging. “I just wanted to check and see if you needed anything before I turn in.”
Tom stood. “No, we’re all set up down here. Thank you for the cookies.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you know Jill Washington up the road? She’s an amazing baker.”
The woman smiled. “No, my father only bought this house two years ago, and I was living in New York then. And these cookies went straight from the tube to the oven.”
“The perfect recipe,” Mary said.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Veronica called as she headed back upstairs. She looked happy enough to be here. Tom suspected she was relieved. She’d spent two of the past three evenings here already. What was the point in driving home in the dark to sleep?
It was the same reason Tom was in the basement, after all.
“I’m heading out,” Mary said.
“You can take the cot, if you want. I’ll sleep here. It’s a fold-out couch.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. If I wanted to wake up to obnoxious men, I’d change my dating habits.”
“Are you calling me obnoxious?”
“No comment.” She eased her feet into the heels she wore on duty to add a couple more inches to her height.
Tom cleared his throat. “So what’s your age range?”
“For what?”
“Dating.”
She frowned at him and grabbed her coat. “That’s a weird question.”
“I’m just making conversation.”
