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I grin and pop my head in. “I’ll see you later, Miss Katherine. Go easy on Hudson.”
She waves at me dismissively but beams at me wickedly.
Whistling under my breath to ease my nerves, I retreat out of the house toward Hudson’s truck.
All right. Here we go.
* * *
My hands close into tight fists under the table as the final meeting comes to an end. This attorney, whose name is no longer relevant, rises and shakes his head ruefully, extending his hand.
“I really wish you’d been more specific over the phone, Mr. Everhart. We could have saved you the hassle of coming all the way down here.”
“This can’t be legal!” I finally explode, this third rebuke for the same reason too much to handle.
The man’s fake smile evaporates, and his hardened lawyer face replaces it.
“I assure you that being conflicted out is legal. It exists to protect the clients, not the lawyers.”
“It’s bullshit, and you know it,” I hiss. “They can’t have hired every lawyer in Montana!”
“I can’t speak to that, Mr. Everhart, but I do know that we cannot represent you because of the conflict of interest.”
I snort and stand, storming toward the door in disgust. Three meetings and three refusals to even be entertained because all three of the firms have already spoken with MVP Development.
Frazzled and angry, unsure of what to do next, I forsake the elevator and take the stairs five floors down to the lobby and out into the street, hoping the jog will clear my mind.
It doesn’t.
I don’t want to call Hudson and explain what happened. He’s spent all day at Katherine’s in hopes that I’m on my way to bring solutions. Rose left the state, for fuck’s sake. I need to bring something to the table.
Do I dare make more appointments and hope that I find one lawyer that MVP didn’t get to?
As I struggle to compose myself against the brick of the building, my phone starts vibrating in my back pocket.
Sunshine spills in brilliant pinks, glinting off the metal of cars and busses passing in downtown Helena. I almost want to stand there and lose myself in it for a moment instead of answering, but I reluctantly reach into my back pocket for my phone.
My pulse quickens to see Rose’s name on the display. I force a lightness I don’t feel into my voice. “Hey! Are you home?”
“Home stretch,” she replies, her voice lilting. “Where are you, babe?”
I smile at the endearment, my bad mood subsiding slightly—but not entirely. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh… are you okay, Eli?” she asks tenderly, and I wish she were there in front of me. I want to bury my face in her neck and hug her against me.
“Yeah, yeah. All good. What time do you think you’ll be back?”
“You miss your truck that much?” she teases.
“I missyouthat much, Rose. We all do.”
“I don’t think Connor does,” she groans. “He’s not answering any of my calls or texts.”
“Just get back here, and we’ll go to his house with torches and pitchforks if we have to.”
She laughs, but there’s an unmistakable disappointment in her tone. “I’ll be home in about an hour and a half.”
“I can’t wait.”
