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“I’m not going to be underhanded.” She settled deeper into her seat.
Stubborn woman.
“Are you telling me when it comes to Penelope’s situation not to use every advantage I have?”
She glared. “That’s different.”
I brushed my thumb over her cheekbone. Her skin was soft and smooth... and I couldn’t stop touching her. I didn’t have the right to touch her.
“You’re a good mom.”
“I’m just doing what any mother—” She stopped, seeming to think better of what she was going to say.
“If you change your mind about the park, just say the word.”
She made a noncommittal noise. I’d check into it anyway.
“You’ve made it a few days without an arrest. Is that some sort of record?” I winked at her. “I cleared my afternoon schedule in case I needed to bail you out.”
“Very funny,” she said dryly, though that pretty mouth curved up.
“I brought the papers to be on retainer for you. Seems like you need permanent counsel.”
“I’m not paying you a monthly fee.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“It’s hourly.”
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m well aware of your hourly rate. And this doesn’t count,” she added quickly.
“If I start giving you free time, where does it stop?”
A little growl escaped her. I wouldn’t charge her for this, but it was fun to make her think I would.
“I’m not paying for all the times you called me today either.”
“What about when you called me?”
She thwacked me lightly in the stomach.
“You are vicious.” I grabbed her hand, and we both froze. Did she feel that? What was that... electricity I felt only around her?
The car rolled to a stop in front of a house that had become important to me over the past few months. Funny how one never knew where life would take them or who it would lead to.
I opened the door and tugged on JoJo. She clutched her bag, but didn’t let go of my hand. It would’ve been appropriate to let go as we walked up the sidewalk, but I didn’t want to.
Something about her small hand in mine settled the demons that swarmed within. She didn’t need me. I needed her. And I appreciated that she let me have my moment.
“Kane, whose house is this?” JoJo asked as I lifted our joined hands to ring the doorbell.
“A friend’s.”
“You have friends?”
It was a fair question, even if it was insulting.
“You wound me. I thoughtwewere friends.”
Before she could respond, the front door flew open. Nancy Calhoun, the mother figure who often fed me, stood there larger than life in the apron I wondered if she ever took off.
