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Maverick Vs. Maverick
Shirley Jump
Rust Creek RamblingsALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND…COURT?Lindsay Dalton, daughter of our esteemed town attorney, is about to try her first case in the courtroom, and it’s a doozy. It’s David versus Goliath as Lindsay tests her mettle against millionaire cowboy Walker Jones.With his looks, charm, and commanding presence, Walker Jones the Third seems like a man who just can’t lose. However, his blue-eyed powers of persuasion apparently do not extend to our earnest Ms. Dalton. In fact, our sources suggest the novice Rust Creek Falls lawyer might just be throwing Walker Jones Millionaire off his game. Could this be mere legal manoeuvring? The jury is still out. But with two stubborn hearts in denial, we at the Gazette are predicting an epic romantic showdown!


All’s Fair In Love And...Court?
RUST CREEK RAMBLINGS
Lindsay Dalton, daughter of our esteemed town attorney, is about to try her first case in the courtroom, and it’s a doozy. It’s David versus Goliath as Lindsay tests her mettle against millionaire cowboy Walker Jones.
With his looks, charm and commanding presence, Walker Jones the Third seems like a man who just can’t lose. However, his blue-eyed powers of persuasion apparently do not extend to our earnest Ms. Dalton. In fact, our sources suggest the novice Rust Creek Falls lawyer might just be throwing Walker Jones off his game. Could this be mere legal maneuvering? The jury is still out. But with two stubborn hearts in denial, we at the Gazette are predicting an epic romantic showdown!
“Are you just trying to butter me up before the trial starts?”
He grinned. “Is it working?”
“Nope. I’m not so easily swayed.” She feigned affront, but in the face of his smile, it was hard to hold the pose, and she ended up laughing instead.
He reached up, brushed a tendril of hair off her forehead and tucked the lock behind her ear. His touch lingered on her cheek, and she leaned into it. “Too bad.”
“Why?” She could barely whisper the word. The desire simmering inside her was a living, breathing thing, overpowering every sane thought she’d ever had, pushing her closer to him.
“Because if you weren’t Lindsay Dalton, lawyer, and I wasn’t Walker Jones, owner of Just Us Kids, I think—” his gaze dropped to her lips, then back up to her eyes “—we could have been something.”
“But we are those things,” the sensible part of her said, even as the rest of her was telling that sensible side to shut up, “and we can’t be something.”
“In the morning, I would agree with you. But right now—” his thumb traced over her bottom lip and made her breath catch “—why don’t we just pretend none of that exists. Just for tonight. Just for now...”
* * *
Montana Mavericks:
The Baby Bonanza—Meet Rust Creek Falls’ newest bundles of joy!
Maverick vs. Maverick
Shirley Jump


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author SHIRLEY JUMP spends her days writing romance so she can avoid the towering stack of dirty dishes, eat copious amounts of chocolate and reward herself with trips to the mall. Visit her website at www.shirleyjump.com (http://www.shirleyjump.com) for author news and a booklist, and follow her at Facebook.com/shirleyjump.author (http://Facebook.com/shirleyjump.author) for giveaways and deep discussions about important things like chocolate and shoes.
To the family I was born into and the family of friends I have found along the way—thank you for always having my back and for the steady supply of belly-deep laughter and warm, sweet memories.
Contents
Cover (#ufc0d8f6b-a873-59f0-87d2-bdc7563c5cb1)
Back Cover Text (#u86858436-bd7f-5892-a626-691dc1e5f4ad)
Introduction (#u54617afe-95fe-58e4-a2dc-f42e7d376ff8)
Title Page (#u2415ee53-9884-5305-a030-ed8a366e5076)
About the Author (#u06bc03eb-e37b-572a-98ac-1a9a10d67803)
Dedication (#u57ac853f-9f72-5ffd-84b2-1548de8b2994)
Chapter One (#ud5c01d9e-38b0-5b05-abaf-83a5f47af715)
Chapter Two (#u764bc30b-029f-5b04-bab4-e566b8baedf2)
Chapter Three (#u4d20d95d-1d5e-5956-84b7-d6f6835af4bf)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u7a5393d1-7749-53f5-813a-af67d098a776)
Walker Jones’s mother would tell anyone who would listen that her oldest son came into this world ready to argue. He was a carbon copy of his father that way, she’d say, another man ready to debate everything from the color of the sky to the temperature of the room.
So it was no surprise he’d grown up to fill his father’s shoes in the boardroom, too.
The elder, Walker Jones II, was a formidable opponent in any corporate environment, though his advanced age had warranted a decline in the number of hours he worked. Walker III had stepped in, doubling the company in size and reach. That desire to take over the world had led him to do the one thing he thought he’d never do again—journey back to small-town America to defend the family business interests.
Walker had grown up in Oklahoma, but as far as he could tell, Rust Creek Falls and Kalispell, Montana, where the courthouse was located, were just copycats of the kind of tiny spit of a town that Walker tried to avoid. Lord knew what his brother Hudson saw in the place, because to Walker, it was just one more Norman Rockwell painting to escape as soon as humanly possible. He’d spent as little time as possible here a few months earlier when he’d opened his first Just Us Kids Day Care center. Basically just enough time to unlock the door and hand Hudson the keys. The day care center was a tiny part of the much larger operation of Jones Holdings, Inc., a blip on the corporate radar.
Walker had no intention of staying any longer this time around, either. Just long enough to deal with a pesky lawsuit and a persistent lawyer named Lindsay Dalton. The attorney worked in her father’s office. Probably one of those kids handed a job regardless of their competency level, Walker scoffed. He figured he’d make quick work of the whole thing and get back to his corporate offices in Tulsa ASAP.
Walker strode into Judge Sheldon Andrews’s courtroom on a Friday morning, figuring he could be out of town by sunset. The lawsuit was frivolous, the charges unfounded, and Walker had no doubt he could get it thrown out before the arguments got started.
Walker shrugged out of his cashmere overcoat, placed it neatly on the back of his chair, then settled himself behind the wide oak defendant’s table. He laid a legal pad before him, a file folder on his left, and a row of pens to the right. Props, really, part of sending a message to the plaintiff that Walker was ready for a fight. Perception, Walker had learned, was half the battle. His lawyer, Marty Peyton, who had been around the courtroom longer than Walker had been alive, came in and took the seat beside him.
“This summary judgment should be a slam dunk,” Walker said to Marty. “These claims are totally groundless.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it a slam dunk,” Marty whispered back. He pushed his glasses up his nose and ran a hand through his short white hair. “If Lindsay Dalton is anything like her father, she’s a great lawyer.”
Walker waved that off. He’d gone up against more formidable opponents than some small-town lawyer.
“And for another, this is about sick kids,” Marty went on. “You already have the court of public opinion against you.”
“Sick kid, singular,” Walker corrected. “She’s only representing one family. And kids get sick at day care centers all the time. Kids are walking germ factories.”
Marty pursed his lips and sat back in his seat. “Whatever you say. I hope you’re right. You don’t need this kind of publicity, especially since you’re planning to open five more locations this year.”
The new locations would bring the day care division up to twenty-two locations, throughout Montana and Oklahoma. A nice dent in the western market. “It’ll be fine. We’ll dispense with this lawyer and her ridiculous suit before you can say hello and goodbye.” Walker straightened the pens again, then turned when the courtroom door opened and in walked his opponent.
Lindsay Dalton was not what he’d been expecting. Not even close.
Given the terse tone of her letters and voice mails, he’d expected some librarian type. All buttoned up and severe, with glasses and a shapeless, dingy brown jacket. Instead, he got a five-foot-five cover model in a pale gray suit and a pink silk shirt with the top two buttons unfastened. Not to mention heels and incredible legs.
She was, in a word, fascinating.
Lindsay Dalton had long brown hair in a tidy ponytail that skimmed the back of her suit and bangs that dusted across her forehead. Her big blue eyes were accented by a touch of makeup. Just enough to draw his gaze to her face, then focus it on her lips.
She smiled at her clients just then—a young couple who looked like they’d donned their Sunday best—and the smile was what hit Walker the hardest. It was dazzling. Powerful.
Holy hell.
He turned to Marty. “That’s Lindsay Dalton?”
Marty shrugged. “I guess so. Pretty girl.”
“Good looks doesn’t make her a good lawyer,” Walker said. She might be a bit distracting, but that didn’t mean his lawyer couldn’t argue against her and get this case thrown out.
She walked to the front of the courtroom, not sparing a glance at either Walker or Marty, then took her seat on the plaintiff’s side, with her clients on her right. An older woman, probably a grandma, sat in the gallery with the couple’s baby on her lap. Lindsay turned and gave the baby a big grin. The child cooed. Lindsay covered her eyes for a second, opened her hands like a book, and whispered “peekaboo.” The baby giggled and Lindsay repeated the action twice more, before turning back to the front of the courtroom.
It was a sweet, tender moment, but Walker knew full well that Lindsay Dalton had arranged to have the baby here, not for silly games, but to garner some sympathy points.
The door behind the judge’s bench opened and Judge Andrews stepped out. Short, bespectacled and a little on the pudgy side, Judge Andrews resembled a heavy Bob Newhart. The bailiff called, “All rise,” and everyone stood while Andrews gave the courtroom a nod, then took his place on the bench.
“You may be seated,” he said. Then the bailiff called the court to order, and they got under way.
This was the part Walker liked the best, whether it was in courtroom or in the boardroom. That eager anticipation in his gut just before everything started. Like two armies squaring off across the battlefield, with the tension so high it charged the air.
“We’re here on your motion for a summary judgment regarding the lawsuit brought by the plaintiffs, represented by Ms. Dalton, correct?” Judge Andrews asked Walker’s attorney.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge waved at the podium. “Then, Mr. Peyton, you may proceed.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Marty got to his feet and laid his notes before him on the table. “This lawsuit, brought against Mr. Jones’s day care center, is a waste of everyone’s time. There is simply no legal or factual basis for the suit. Ms. Dalton is trying to prove that her client’s child caught a cold at the center, but there is no evidence whatsoever to support that claim. Germs are a fact of life, Your Honor. They’re on any surface we touch, and no one can prove that the Marshalls’ child contracted a common cold because of her time in day care. Why, for all we know, one of the Marshalls could have brought the germs into their own house. All it takes is one sneeze from a stranger or contact with a germ-infested surface in a public place. Surely Ms. Dalton can’t blame Mr. Jones’s day care center for the world’s inability to reach for a Kleenex at the right time.”
That was a line Walker had given Marty in their meeting last week. It seemed to amuse the judge. A smile ghosted on his face then disappeared.
“Your Honor,” Marty continued, “there are no cases holding that a day care center is legally responsible when a child who spends part of her day there comes down with a cold. Frankly, it’s a frivolous claim, and we’re asking that the court enter summary judgment in the defendant’s favor, dismissing this case.”
Judge Andrews nodded at Marty, then turned to Lindsay Dalton. “Ms. Dalton?”
Lindsay got to her feet and smoothed a hand down the front of her jacket. She took a moment to draw in a breath, as if centering herself.
She was nervous. Good, Walker thought. He had this thing won already.
“Your Honor, Mr. Peyton is greatly minimizing the situation at hand. This was not a common cold, not by any means. We intend to prove that Mr. Jones’s day care center, Just Us Kids, has been grossly negligent in cleanliness, resulting in a severe respiratory syncytial virus infection for Georgina Marshall, the then three-month-old child of Peter and Heather Marshall. The Marshalls entrusted Mr. Jones’s day care center with the care of their precious child, only to end up sitting by her hospital bed, praying for her to overcome the bronchitis that developed as a result of her exposure to RSV.”
Walker fought the urge to roll his eyes. Precious child? Praying?
“Your Honor, RSV is a respiratory infection,” Marty said, standing up again. “It’s marked by a cough and runny nose. Just like the common cold.”
“Georgina stopped eating,” Lindsay countered. “She lost two pounds, which for a baby of her size is a dramatic weight loss. The hospital she was in didn’t see this as a common cold. They saw it as a life-threatening illness. A life-threatening illness caused by Mr. Jones’s negligence.” With those words she turned and glared directly at Walker.
As if he was the one neglecting to mop the floors and wipe down the toys every night. Walker had barely stepped inside the day care center in Rust Creek Falls. He’d left his brother Hudson to oversee the business and hired a highly experienced and competent manager to help run the place. He had no doubt that Just Us Kids was running as smoothly as a Swiss watch.
He was busy enough maintaining the corporate interests. He had oil wells in Texas and overseas, the financial division expanding in the northeast, and then these day care centers, all started in small towns because his research had shown they were the most in need of child care resources.
Ms. Dalton rushed on. “Your Honor, I invite you to read the medical charts, which we filed with the court in opposition to the defendant’s motion for summary judgment. Those alone will prove how close the Marshalls came to losing their only child.”
Marty got to his feet. “Your Honor, does the Marshalls’ counsel really need to use words like ‘precious’? All children are precious, and no disrespect to the Marshalls, but their child is no more precious than anyone else’s. Can we stick to facts, without the flowery language?”
“The facts are clear, Your Honor,” Lindsay said. “The Marshalls’ baby contracted RSV as a direct result of staying in Mr. Jones’s day care. As did many other children—”
“This case is only about the Marshalls,” Walker interjected. “It’s one family, not a class action.”
She wheeled on him and shot him a glare. “They merely want justice for the pain and suffering their daughter endured.”
Code for give us a big settlement so we never have to work again. Walker bit back a sigh. He was tired of people who used the justice system to make a quick buck.
“The child is healthy now,” Walker said to the judge, despite Marty waving a hand to silence him. “This was a short-lived illness, and again, not traceable to any one contaminant. To blame my day care center is casting a pretty specific net in a very large river.”
The judge gave him a stern look. “Mr. Walker, I’ll thank you to leave the argument to your lawyer. You’re not here testifying today.”
“I apologize for my client’s outburst, Your Honor,” Marty said smoothly. “It’s just that this is so clearly a frivolous claim. Which is why we are moving to have this case dismissed before it wastes any more of the court’s time.”
Judge Andrews nodded again, and both lawyers sat to wait for him to announce his ruling. He flipped through the papers before him, taking a few minutes to scan the documents.
Walker sat at his table, maintaining a calm demeanor, as if this whole thing was a walk in the park. In all honesty, though, if he lost this case, it could severely impact his whole company and the future of the entire Just Us Kids Day Care chain. He refused to let some small-town lawyer derail his future expansion plans. Jones Holdings, Inc. was solid enough to withstand this tiny dent, but he wasn’t so sure the day care centers could rise above the ensuing bad publicity if the case wasn’t dismissed. Walker was in this business to make a profit, not to see it wiped away by some overeager small-town lawyer.
Lindsay Dalton had her legs crossed, right over left, and her right foot swung back and forth in a tight, nervous arc under the table. She whispered something to Heather Marshall, who nodded then covered Lindsay’s hand with her own and gave it a squeeze. Heather Marshall’s eyes watered—whether for real or for effect, Walker couldn’t tell. He’d seen enough people fake emotions in business that a few tears no longer swayed him.
Judge Andrews cleared his throat and looked up from his paperwork. “It’s the opinion of this court that there is sufficient evidence to proceed to trial on this case.” He put up a hand to ward off Marty’s objections, then lowered his glasses and looked at Walker’s attorney. “Mr. Peyton, you and your client may think this suit is frivolous, but the evidence Ms. Dalton has offered demonstrates that there are genuine issues of material fact. Now, let’s talk about a date for the trial. I realize we had set a date for four weeks from today, but that date will no longer work for me. As part of the joys of getting old, I have to have a knee replaced, and am not sure how long I will be out.”
Great. That would just make this thing drag on longer and longer. Walker didn’t need the prolonged negative publicity.
“But thanks to a big case settling just this morning, my schedule for next week has an unexpected hole in it and I can hear your arguments on Tuesday morning, after the Columbus Day holiday.”
Lindsay Dalton shot to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. I need more time to adequately prepare—”
“From what I have seen, you are prepared, Ms. Dalton. Tuesday is the date, unless you and your clients want to prolong this case indefinitely.” The Marshalls shook their head, and Lindsay nodded acceptance. “Good. I will see you all back here Tuesday at 9:00 a.m. Court dismissed.” He banged the gavel, then got to his feet.
Everyone rose and waited until the judge had exited the courtroom, before the lawyers turned to gather their papers. Walker leaned toward Marty. “Temporary setback.”
Marty gave him a dubious look. “I told you, she may be new, but we have our work cut out for us.”
“Piece of cake,” Walker said. “Don’t worry.”
The Marshalls walked by him, holding hands and giving Lindsay wavering smiles. The Marshalls didn’t look like frivolous lawsuit people, and Lindsay Dalton didn’t look like a crappy small-town lawyer hired by her daddy. She looked like one of those ridiculously nice, highly principled people who only wanted to do the right thing to brighten their corner of the world. But Walker knew better. She wasn’t here to play nice and he wasn’t about to let her win, even if this schedule change threw a giant monkey wrench into his plans.
One that meant there was a very, very strong possibility that Walker Jones was going to be in Rust Creek Falls a lot longer than he had thought.
* * *
The mirrored wall behind the bar at Ace in the Hole was good for reflecting a lot more than the alcohol bottles lined up on the shelf, Lindsay Dalton realized. It also showed her own frustrated features. Even now, hours after she’d left the courtroom and her first battle against Walker Jones, Lindsay was feeling anxious, stressed. Yes, she’d won today—a small victory—but that first argument was just the beginning. And her opponent was not who she had expected.
She’d done her research on Walker Jones, or at least she thought she had. An older gentleman—heck, almost at retirement age—who she had thought would be an easy opponent. She clearly hadn’t researched enough, because the man sitting in the courtroom today wasn’t old and frail. He was young and handsome and...
Formidable.
Yes, that was the right word to describe Walker Jones III. Formidable. He had an easy confidence about him, an attitude that said he knew what he was doing and he wasn’t used to losing.
And she was a brand-new lawyer from a small town working for her father’s firm. She had convictions and confidence, but that might not be enough to win against experience and attitude. And a big-time lawyer hired from out of town.
“Looks like you had the kind of day that needs this.” Lani slid a glass of chardonnay over to Lindsay. Her sister worked at the bar from time to time, even after getting engaged to Russ Campbell, the hunky cop she’d fallen in love a little over a year ago. Lani still had a glow about her, shining nearly as brightly as the engagement ring on her finger.
“Thanks,” Lindsay said. “I didn’t expect to see you at the Ace tonight.”
Lani shrugged. “The bar was short staffed. Annie had a date and asked me to fill in.”
Annie Kellerman, the regular bartender. The Ace in the Hole was pretty much the main watering hole in Rust Creek Falls. With hitching posts outside and neon beer signs inside, it was the kind of place where folks could let down their hair, have a few beers with friends and maybe take a fast twirl in front of the jukebox. Since it was early yet on a Friday night, the Ace wasn’t too busy—one couple snuggling in a booth, four guys debating last week’s football game at a table in the center of the room and a couple of regulars sitting at the end of the bar, nursing longneck beers and watching whatever sport was playing on the overhead TV.
“So, how’d it go in court today?” Lani asked. She had her long brown hair back in a clip and was wearing a tank top with the logo for the bar—an ace of hearts—across the front.
“I won.” Lindsay grinned. “Okay, so it was only winning the argument that I brought a valid case to court, but it sure made me feel good.”
“Given all the times you’ve argued with me, little sister, I have no doubt you’re going to make a great lawyer.” Lani swiped at a water ring on the bar, then leaned back against the shelf behind her. “I talked to Dad earlier and he’s proud as a peacock. I’m surprised he didn’t take out a billboard announcing the judge’s decision.”
Lindsay laughed. Their father, Ben, had been ready to burst at the seams from the day she told him she wanted to follow in his footsteps. “It’s a very small decision. The big case is yet to come. I have a few days until opening arguments.” She let out a breath. “I’m nervous as hell.”
“Why? You’re a great lawyer.”
“For one, I only passed the bar a few months ago. My experience is mainly in cases like whether George Lambert’s oak tree is encroaching on Lee Reynolds’s potato patch.” Because she was so new to her father’s firm, he generally shuffled the easy stuff over to Lindsay’s desk, as a way for her to get her feet wet. She’d argued ownership of a Pomeranian, defended a driver who took a left on red and settled the aforementioned potato patch/oak tree dispute.
“Which was a win for you,” Lani pointed out.
Lindsay scoffed. She’d become a lawyer because she wanted to make a difference in the town she loved. So far, she’d only made a difference for a Pomeranian and a garden. She was worried she wasn’t up to the challenge of battling for the Marshalls. But when they had come to her, worried and teary, she couldn’t say no. She might be inexperienced, but she had a fire for what was right burning in her belly. She couldn’t stand to see anyone get hurt because the Just Us Kids Day Care was negligent. “Score one for the potatoes. Seriously, though, the opposing counsel in this case is...good. Smart. And the owner of the day care center is just as smart. Plus, he’s handsome.”
Had she just said that out loud? Good Lord.
Lani arched a brow. “Handsome?”
“I meant attractive.” Oh, God, that wasn’t any better. Lindsay scrambled to come up with a way to describe Walker Jones that didn’t make it sound like she personally found him sexy. Because she didn’t. At all. Even if he had filled out his navy pin-striped suit like a model for Brooks Brothers. He was the enemy, and even handsome men could be irresponsible business owners. “In a distracting kind of way. He might...sway the judge.”
Lani chuckled. “Judge Andrews? Isn’t he like, a hundred?”
“Well, yeah, but...” Lindsay drained her wine and held her glass out to her sister. “Can I get a refill?”
“Is that your way of changing the subject?” Lani took the glass and topped it off.
“Yes. No.” She paused. She’d been disconcerted by meeting Walker Jones, and Lindsay didn’t get disconcerted easily. “Maybe.”
“Well, unfortunately, I don’t think you’re going to be able to do that,” Lani said as she slid the glass back to her sister.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’re going to ask me a million questions about this guy. Frankly, I’d like to forget all about Walker Jones until I have to see him in court next week.”
“I think it’s going to be impossible for you to do that.” Lani leaned across the bar and a tease lit her features. “Considering he just walked in. Or at least, a man who looks like a hot, sexy owner of a day care chain just walked in.”
Lindsay spun on her stool and nearly choked on her sip of wine. Walker Jones III had indeed just walked into the Ace in the Hole, still wearing his overcoat and suit from court, and looking like a man ready to take over enemy territory. “What is he doing here?”
“Probably getting a drink like the rest of Rust Creek Falls,” Lani said. “There’s not a lot of options in this town.”
“Why is he even still here? Why not stay in Kalispell, or better yet, why can’t he go back to his coffin?”
“Coffin?”
“Only vampires are that handsome and ruthless.”
Lani chuckled. She shifted to the center of the bar as Walker approached. “Welcome to the Ace in the Hole. What can I get you?”
“Woodford Reserve, on the rocks.” He leaned one elbow on the bar, then shifted to his right.
“We don’t have that,” Lani said. “What we do have is a whole lot of beer.”
Walker sighed. “Then your best craft beer.”
“Coming right up.”
Lindsay should have slipped off her stool and left before he noticed her, but she’d been so stunned at the sight of Walker in the Ace that she had stayed where she was, as if her butt had grown roots. Now she tried to take a casual sip of her wine, as if she didn’t even see him.
Except her heart was racing, and all she could see out of the corner of her eye was him. Six feet tall—her favorite height in a man, but who was noticing that—with dirty blond hair and blue eyes, Walker Jones had a way of commanding the space where he stood.
She needed to remember that his irresponsible ownership of the day care center was what had made Georgina and lots of other children ill. What if that had been the Stockton triplets? Those motherless newborns who’d needed a whole chain of volunteers to help care for them? The RSV outbreak could have had much more dire consequences—something that Walker might be trying to overlook but that she refused to ignore.
“Counselor,” he said with a little nod.
“Mr. Jones. Nice to see you again.” The conventional greeting rolled off her tongue before she could recall it. Some kind of masochistic automatic response. It wasn’t nice to see him again. Not one bit.
Lani smirked as she placed a beer in front of Walker. “Here you go. Want me to run a tab?”
“Thank you, and yes, please do. I think I’ll stay a bit.” He sent the last remark in Lindsay’s direction.
She still had a nearly full glass of wine, but no way was she going to sit at the bar next to him. Lindsay fished in her pocket and handed her sister some bills. “Thanks, Lani. I’ll see you around.”
As Lindsay went to leave, Walker placed a hand on her arm. A momentary touch, nothing more, but it seemed to sear her skin. “Don’t go because I’m here. Surely we can coexist in a bar full of people.” He looked around. “Or rather, a bar full of eleven people.”
“Are you always this exact?”
“Are you always this hard to make friends with?”
She scowled. He was making it seem like this was all her fault. “We don’t need to be friends. We’re on opposing sides.”
“In the courtroom. Outside of that, we can at least be civil, can’t we?”
“Well, of course we can be civil.” Damn it. Somehow he’d turned her whole argument around. Geesh. Maybe he should have been the lawyer.
“That’s all I’m asking. So stay.” He gestured toward her bar stool. “And pretend I don’t exist.”
“My pleasure.”
That made him laugh. He had a nice laugh, dark and rich like a great cup of coffee in the morning. “You are not what I expected, Ms. Dalton.”
“And you are not what I expected.” She fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “Frankly, I was expecting your father.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” He grinned. “I’ll try not to do that again.”
She almost said, “Oh, I wasn’t disappointed,” but caught herself. Good Lord, what was it with this man? Was it his eyes? The way they held her gaze and made her, for just a moment, feel like the most important person in the room? Was it the way he’d touched her, his muscled hand seeming to leave an indelible impression? Or was it the way he spoke, in that deep, confident voice, that a part of her imagined him whispering to her in the dark?
He was the enemy. An evil, irresponsible man who only cared about making a buck. Except nothing about his demeanor matched that description. Maybe he was one of those distracted, charming millionaires who didn’t care where his money came from as long as it ended up in his bank account.
Still...he seemed nice. Friendly, even. How could that be the same man who ran a shoddy day care chain?
“And with that,” Walker said, picking up his beer and giving her a little nod, “I think I shall leave you to your wine. Have a good evening, Ms. Dalton.”
He crossed the room, and took a seat at one of the empty tables, draping his coat over a second chair. When a group of twenty-something girls came into the bar, ushering in the cool evening air and a whole bunch of laughter, Lindsay’s view of Walker was blocked, but that didn’t stop her traitorous mind from wondering what he’d meant by I’ll try not to do that again.
Because she had a feeling Walker Jones was the kind of man who rarely left a woman disappointed. In any way.
Chapter Two (#u7a5393d1-7749-53f5-813a-af67d098a776)
Walker didn’t know why he’d stayed. Or why he lingered over his beer. Or why his gaze kept straying to Lindsay Dalton.
He told himself it was because he was so surprised to see her in ordinary clothes—jeans, cowboy boots and a blue button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up to her forearms. The jeans hugged her thighs, outlined the curve of her butt and in general made Walker forget to breathe. He could imagine her wearing the dark brown cowboy boots and nothing else.
Okay, not productive. She was the opposing counsel in a lawsuit vital to the future of his day care centers. They may only be a small piece of the large pie that made up Jones Holdings, Inc., but that didn’t matter. Walker was not a man who liked to lose. Ever.
The bar began to fill, and he noticed people glancing at him, either because he was a clear outsider or because word got around. There were friendly greetings for Lindsay but a definite chill in the air when it came to Walker. Clearly, the people of Rust Creek Falls were circling the wagons around one of their own.
Walker had debated flying back to his office in Tulsa after court ended today, but with the trial just a few days away, he’d decided to stay in town. It might be good to get to know the locals, get a feel for how things might sway in court and maybe make a few friends out of what might become a lynch mob if Lindsay Dalton had her way.
The best way to do all that? Alcohol, and lots of it.
Gaining the goodwill of the locals was merely part of Walker’s overall plan. He would obliterate Lindsay Dalton’s case, then leave the town thinking he was the hero, not the devil incarnate she’d made him out to be.
Walker strode back up to the bar, sending Lindsay a nod of greeting that she ignored. He put a hand on the smooth oak surface. “I want to buy a round,” he said to the bartender.
The woman, slim and brunette, looked similar enough to Lindsay that Walker could believe they were related. Especially in a town this small. “Sure, for...who?” she said.
“Everyone.” He grinned. “New in town. Figured it’d be a nice way to introduce myself.”
“You mean try to convince people you’re a nice guy?” Lindsay said from beside him.
“I am a nice guy. My grandmother and third-grade teacher said so.” He grinned at her. “You just haven’t given me a chance.”
“And you think a free beer will change my mind?”
He leaned in closer to her, close enough to catch a whiff of her perfume, something dark and sensual, which surprised him. Oh, how he wished it was as simple as a beer to change her mind, because if they had met under different circumstances, he would have asked her out. She was fiery and gorgeous and confident, and he was intrigued. “If it would, I’d buy you a case.”
“I’m not so easily bought, Mr. Jones.”
“Then name your price, Ms. Dalton.”
“An admission of guilt.” Her blue eyes hardened. “And changes in the way you run your business.”
Well, well. So the lawyer liked the fight as much as he did. There was nothing Walker liked better than a challenge. “A round for everyone in the bar, Miss...” He waved toward the bartender.
“Lani. Lani Dalton.” The brunette leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. “Sister to Lindsay.”
That explained the defensive posture. Okay, so he had two enemies in Rust Creek Falls. He’d faced worse. Besides, he wasn’t going to be here long. It wasn’t going to matter what people said about him after he left—as long as he won the lawsuit and reestablished the good reputation of Just Us Kids Day Care. All he needed to do while he was here was temporarily change public perception about himself. Winning the lawsuit would take care of the rest. So he put on a friendly smile and put out his hand. It wasn’t making deals over drinks at a penthouse restaurant, but it would accomplish the same thing. And at a much cheaper price.
“Nice to meet you, Lani.” They shook. “I’m Walker Jones, owner of Just Us Kids.”
“Your day care has quite the tarnished reputation,” Lani said. “Folks here have a pretty negative opinion after all those kids got sick.”
Walker maintained his friendly smile. “An unfortunate event, to be sure. I’m hoping people will see that I’m a responsible owner, here to make things right.”
Beside him on the stool, Lindsay snorted. He ignored the sound of derision.
The bar had begun to fill since he got here, and the people standing in the Ace in the Hole were making no secret of eavesdropping on his exchange with the Dalton sisters. He could see, in their eyes and in their body language that the angry villagers were readying their pitchforks for the evil day care ogre.
If they thought they could intimidate him, they were wrong. He’d faced far worse, from ego-centric billionaires to feisty CEOs who refused to accept their tenure was done when he bought them out. This small town would be a cakewalk. He’d play their game, make nice, but in the end, he’d do what he always did—
Win.
He got to his feet and turned to face the room. He could handle these people. All he had to do was pretend to be one of them. Charming, gentle, friendly. His last girlfriend had accused him of being the Tin Man, because he didn’t have a heart. Maybe she was right. But he could damn well act the part. “Folks, I’m Walker Jones, Hudson’s older brother, and yes, the owner of Just Us Kids. I’m here in town to check on things, reassure you all that we run a quality operation. I’d like to take a moment to thank you all for the warm welcome to your lovely town.”
Cold eyes stared back at him. One man crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Walker. Another woman shook her head and turned away.
He widened his smile, loosened his stance. As easy and welcoming as a new neighbor. “And I can think of no better way to thank you all for your hospitality than a round on me.” A low cheer sounded from the back of the room. Walker smiled and put up a hand. “Now, I know a few beers won’t change much, and I don’t expect it to. I just want to say thank you. And if any of you have any questions, come on up to the bar. I’d sure like to meet the residents of Rust Creek Falls.”
Just as he knew it would, the icy wall between himself and the other patrons began to thaw. A few stepped right up to the bar, giving him a thank-you as they placed their orders.
“I figure it’s always a good idea to make friends with the guy buying the beer,” said a barrel-chested man with a thick beard and a red flannel shirt. “Elvin Houseman.”
“Walker Jones.” They shook hands. “Pleased to meet you.”
Elvin leaned in close to Walker’s ear. “Folks round here are gonna have a hard time trusting you. When those kids got sick over at the day care, it scared a lot of people.”
“I’m doing my best to rectify that, Mr. Houseman.”
The other man waved that off. “Nobody calls me Mr. Houseman. I’m just Elvin.”
“Elvin, then.”
Lani slid a beer across to Elvin. He raised it toward her, then toward Walker. “Thank you kindly. And best of luck to you with the town.” He gave Walker a little nod, then walked away.
Walker glanced at Lindsay. She’d either ignored or hadn’t noticed the whole exchange. She also hadn’t ordered a fresh drink, not that he expected her to take advantage of the round on his tab, but clearly, she wasn’t won over like the other folks in the bar, nor did she seem to be intimidated by him. But there was a hint of surprise in her face. She clearly hadn’t expected him to outflank her by going straight to the town. Walker headed back to his table.
Before he reached his seat, one of the giggling blondes who had come in earlier stood in front of him, her hips swaying to the music. She put her hands out. “Hey, would you like to dance? Come on, we need a man.”
The blonde was pretty, probably no older than twenty-three or twenty-four. On any other day, she’d be the kind of diversion Walker would go for—no real commitment, nothing expected after the evening was over. He’d dated enough of that type of woman to know how it would go—a few drinks, a few laughs, a good time in bed and then back to real life.
He wanted to say no, to tell her he had enough on his mind already, but then he reconsidered. Dancing with the local girl fed into his plan of ingratiating himself with the town, and would also show Lindsay Dalton an unexpected side of him. He wanted to keep the other lawyer as off balance as he could. If she didn’t know what to expect from him, the advantage would go to Walker.
So he shrugged off his suit jacket, undid his tie and the top two buttons of his shirt, then rolled up his shirt sleeves. “Sure.”
The blonde giggled again, then grabbed his hand. “It’s line dancing. Do you know how to do that?”
“Follow your hips?”
That made her laugh again. “Exactly.”
The blonde and her trio of friends surrounded him, and the five of them moved from one side of the dance floor to the other, doing something the girls called a grapevine that they’d learned from that Billy Ray Cyrus video “Achy Breaky Heart.” Though he’d never danced like this before, it was fairly simple, and by the time the first verse was finished, Walker had most of the steps memorized.
He had, however, all but forgotten the blonde. His gaze kept straying across the room to Lindsay Dalton, still sitting on the bar stool and chatting with her sister. He watched Lindsay, just to see if his plan was working, he told himself.
He’d done a little research on his opponent in the hours after court. Lindsay Dalton, the youngest of six children, fresh from taking the bar exam and now working for her father’s firm. She had been successful with some very small cases she’d argued—a boundary line, something about a dog dispute, those kinds of things. Nothing as big as a lawsuit against a major national corporation, albeit one division of the Jones empire. Yet she hadn’t seemed too daunted in the courtroom. If anything, she’d impressed him with her attitude—like a kitten standing up to a tiger.
Though the kitten wouldn’t even get to unsheathe its claws at the tiger, her attempt made him respect her. And made him wonder about her.
Across the bar, Lindsay was laughing at something the bartender had said. He liked the sound of her laugh, light and lyrical, and the way it lit her face, put a little dash of a tease into her eyes. He knew he shouldn’t—she was the enemy, after all—but he really wanted to get to know her better.
It was research, that was all. Figuring out what made the other side tick so he’d have a better chance in court.
The blonde and her friends circled to the left at the same time that Lindsay started to cross the room. Walker stepped to the right and captured Lindsay’s hand. “Dance with me.”
Her eyes widened. “Dance...with you?”
“Come on.” He swayed his hips and swung their arms. She stayed stiff, reluctant. He could hardly blame her. After all, just a few hours ago, they’d been facing off in court. “It’s the weekend. Let’s forget about court cases and arguments and just...”
“Have fun?” She arched a brow.
He shot her a grin. “I hear they do that, even in towns as small as Rust Creek Falls.”
That made her laugh. Her hips were swaying along with his, though she didn’t seem to be aware she was moving to the beat. “Are you saying my town is boring?”
Boring? She had no idea. But he wouldn’t tell her that. Instead he gave her his patented killer smile. “I’m saying it’s a small town. With some great music on the juke and a dance floor just waiting for you.” He lifted her hand and spun her to the right, then back out again to the left. “Come on, Ms. Dalton, dance with me. Me, the man, not me, the corporation you’re suing.”
“I shouldn’t...” She started to slide her hand out of his.
He stepped closer to her. “Shouldn’t have fun? Shouldn’t dance with the enemy?”
“I shouldn’t do anything with the enemy.”
He grinned, to show her he wasn’t all bad. Keep her on her toes, keep her from predicting him, and keep the advantage on his side. “I’m not asking for anything. Just a dance.”
Another song came on the juke, and the blonde and her friends started up again, moving from one side of the dance floor to the other. Their movements swept Walker and Lindsay into the middle of the dance floor, leaving her with two choices—dance with him or wade through the other women to escape.
For a second, he thought he’d won and she was going to dance with him. Then the smile on her face died, and she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones, but I don’t dance with people who don’t take responsibility for their mistakes.”
Then she turned on her heel and left the dance floor and a moment later, the bar.
Walker tried to muster up some enthusiasm to dance with the other women—any man in his right mind would have taken that opportunity—but he couldn’t. He excused himself, paid his tab then left the bar. The victories he’d had today in court and later in the bar rang hollow in the cool night air.
* * *
Lindsay headed home, her stomach still in knots. She rolled down the driver side window of her sedan, letting in the fresh, crisp October Montana air, and tried to appreciate the clear, blank landscape ahead of her and the bright stars in the sky. But her mind kept going back to Walker Jones, to that moment in the bar.
Had she almost danced with him?
What was she thinking? He was the enemy, the one responsible for little baby Georgina’s illness and scary hospital stay. Maybe not him personally, but his company, and the lack of standards at his day care centers, was indeed responsible. Not to mention how many of her letters and phone calls to Jones’s corporate headquarters had gone unanswered, as he clearly tried to ignore the problem or hoped it would go away. He’d been aware of the problem from the minute the outbreak happened in town, and yet he had done nothing. Hadn’t flown in to check on the day care, hadn’t responded to the worried parents.
She had no interest in Walker Jones. No interest at all. And that little moment in the bar when he’d asked her to dance had been an anomaly, nothing more.
Walker Jones thought he could buy her town through alcohol and joining in on a few line dances. Well, he could think again. Neither she nor Rust Creek Falls would be so easily swayed by that man.
Lindsay headed into the ranch house where she’d grown up. She’d come back home to live after law school, partly because she needed to save money and partly because she’d missed her family. Now it was just her, her brother Travis and their parents. The house didn’t ring with the same noise as it did when Lindsay was young, but it still felt like home whenever she walked in the door.
The scents of fresh-baked bread, some kind of deliciousness the family had earlier for dinner and her mother’s floral perfume filled the air. It was late, and her parents would have already gone to bed, but Lindsay saw a light on in the kitchen.
“Hey, Trav,” she said to her brother as she entered the room. “What has you home early?”
Travis was the one who was known for partying late, dating a new girl every week and living a little wilder than the rest of the Daltons. She adored her brother, but hoped he’d settle down one of these days. He was a good guy, and in Lindsay’s opinion, there were far too few of those in the world.
“My date canceled. She got the flu. Didn’t feel like heading to the Ace, and so here I am.” He crossed to the fridge and pulled open the door. “Plus I heard Mom made meat loaf for dinner.”
Lindsay laughed. “I knew it had to be something bigger than a date canceling.”
“Hey, I don’t get my favorite dinner often enough.” He gave her the lopsided grin that had charmed dozens of women over the years. “Want a meat loaf sandwich?”
“Nah, I’m good. I was just going to grab a glass of wine and head out to the back deck. It’s a nice night.” Hundreds of thoughts and worries jockeyed for space in her mind. She needed some fresh air, some open space. The soft nicker of the horses in the stable, the whisper of a breeze across her face. Not the confines of the kitchen.
Travis handed her the open bottle of chardonnay from the refrigerator door. “Wine on a weeknight? Must have been a hell of a bad day.”
“It’s Friday night, so technically it’s the weekend.” She didn’t mention that she’d already had a couple of glasses at the Ace in the Hole. Nor did she admit Travis might be right.
“Yeah, right. You, little sister, are about as wild as a house cat lying in the sun.” He grinned, then started assembling his sandwich. A thick slice of meat loaf on top of some homemade white bread, then ketchup and a second slice. “Except when you were dating Jeremy back in college and thinking about running off to the big city.”
The two of them walked out to the back deck and sat in the Adirondack chairs that faced the wide expanse of the ranch. In the dark, it seemed like the Dalton land stretched forever. The sight was calming, reassuring. “I never thought about running off to the big city,” Lindsay said. “That was Jeremy’s idea.”
Her former fiancé had been smart and witty and driven. She’d met him in law school and liked him from the start. Then, as they neared graduation, he’d told her he had no intentions of living in Montana. He wanted to move to New York and practice law in a place that made him feel alive. For Lindsay, life was here, in the rich soil, the graceful mountains, the clean air. She never wanted to live anywhere else.
“You know, I still keep in touch with old Jer,” Travis said. He’d met her fiancé on a visit to see Lindsay, and they’d become fast friends. “He did move to New York. Doing pretty well up there and working in corporate law.”
Lindsay sat back against the chair and looked up at the stars dotting the night sky. “I’m glad for him. I really am.”
“And over him?”
She cast a curious glance in Travis’s direction. “Yeah. But why are you asking? You have that tone.”
“What tone?” He gave her an I’m innocent look, the one he’d perfected when he was a kid and always in trouble for breaking a vase or missing curfew. Their mother usually just laughed and let Travis off with an easy punishment.
“The one that says you want to convince me to do something crazy.” When she’d been younger, she’d gone along with Travis’s ideas—camping overnight by a stream, climbing a tree, catching frogs. But their paths had diverged as she grew up and went to college and Travis...
Well, he went on being Travis. Lovable but irresponsible.
“Last I heard, you almost did do something crazy,” her brother said. “A little bird—or in my case, a little blonde college coed I used to date—texted and told me you were dancing with a stranger at the Ace tonight. She was a tiny bit jealous, because, in her exact words, ‘I had that man first.’”
Lindsay blew her bangs out of her face. “These are the moments when I do wish I lived in a big city. Geesh, does everyone in Rust Creek Falls know how I spent my Friday night? And for your information, I wasn’t dancing with him. He asked, and I said no.”
Well, sort of said no. There’d been a moment there when she’d been swaying to the music. She’d been tempted, too tempted, to slip into Walker Jones’s arms and swing around that dance floor.
“You should have said yes.” Travis got to his feet and gathered up his empty plate. He paused at the door and turned back to face her. “You’re a great lawyer, sis. Smarter than half the people I know. But you don’t take enough risks, don’t get your hands dirty often enough. Life is about jumping in with both feet, not standing on the edge and dipping in a toe from time to time.”
Jumping in with both feet was foolhardy and risky, two things Lindsay normally shied away from. But for a moment on that dance floor tonight, she’d been both.
She sipped at the wine and watched the stars, so bright and steady in the sky, and told herself there was nothing wrong with being a calm house cat sitting in the sun. Because in the end, that house cat didn’t make foolish choices that brought her far too close to enemy lines.
Chapter Three (#u7a5393d1-7749-53f5-813a-af67d098a776)
Walker watched his brother polish off two plates of eggs and a pile of crispy bacon before he launched into a teetering pile of pancakes. Walker had stuck to a couple pieces of toast and some coffee, his usual breakfast choice. He’d never been much of a morning eater, but his brother Hudson—he could eat all day and still be hungry at bedtime.
The food and accommodations at Maverick Manor, where Walker had decided to stay last night, were outstanding. When he’d spent a night here a few months ago, he’d been surprised. He’d expected something more...primitive, given the size of Rust Creek Falls, but the two-story log cabin–style resort rivaled any five-star hotel Walker had stayed at before. Owned by a local, Nate Crawford, the resort showed the love Nate had for the place at every turn. It had wraparound porches, big windows in every room and expansive views of the beautiful Montana landscape. He’d almost felt like he was staying in a tree house when he woke up this morning—if a tree house was big enough to hold one of the comfiest king-size beds Walker had ever slept in. The rooms were filled with overstuffed, comfortable furniture, all decorated in natural hues of beige and brown, the perfect complement to the log walls.
There’d been a copy of The Rust Creek Falls Gazette, the local paper, outside his door, filled with the usual small-town stuff—birth announcements, cows for sale, missing pickup trucks. It was all hokey stuff, making him wonder if these people were either a town full of Pollyannas or simply immune to the real world, where the front-page story wasn’t about a prize mare giving birth to twin foals.
Either way, Walker wanted to leave Rust Creek Falls as quickly as possible. The whole place grated on his nerves. The sooner he got back to Tulsa and the day-to-day operations of his business, the better, which meant not delaying the reason for this meeting, even for pancakes.
“Let’s talk about the day care,” Walker said. He waved off the waitress’s offer of more coffee.
Hudson pushed his empty plate to the side, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Things are going great.”
“As in, you’re there every day and are verifying that with your own eyes?”
Hudson shrugged, avoided Walker’s gaze. “Well, yeah, more or less.”
Walker’s shoulders tensed. He’d trusted his brother—and had thought it was a mistake from the start. But his father had said it would be a good idea to give Hudson a piece of the family business. Get him more involved, more invested, before their father stepped down entirely. This past year, his father had put Walker in the CEO position, while his dad took on the role of Chairman of the Board. The elder Jones continued to leave his fingerprints all over the company, as if he was still in charge. Walker hoped that once both he and his brother were part of the company, their father would ease up. But thus far, Hudson hadn’t displayed the same love for business. Hudson was a good man, a hard worker, but clearly had no desire to be involved with the family business like Walker did. Maybe Walker had read his brother wrong, and made a mistake involving him in the day care franchise.
Walker leased the building from Hudson, who owned the land it sat on. Walker had hired Bella to be a part-time manager, expecting Hudson to fill in the gaps. “What does more or less mean?”
“Place pretty much runs itself. Besides, Bella, the manager, is one of those people who likes to keep things in line, so I let her.” Hudson took a long swig of coffee.
“Hudson, you bought this property—”
“As an investment.” Hudson shrugged again. “You know, pocket money.”
Walker bit back his frustration. He should have known his brother would let him down. Their father had hoped, when Walker leased the building on the land Hudson bought, that his brother would actually get involved in the family business. As a fail safe, Walker had hired Bella, hoping she’d serve as Hudson’s right hand. Every time Walker had asked Hudson how things were going, his brother had said everything was fine. Implying he was there every day. Now, it turned out that Hudson was off...being Hudson.
“When are you going to grow up, Hudson? Take some responsibility, for once, instead of going from job to job, place to place? Actually settle down?”
“What, like you? Work twelve million hours a week and never date because you don’t have time to do anything other than—surprise—work?” Hudson shook his head. “No, thank you. I like to have a life.”
“I have a life.”
Hudson snorted.
“And just because I work a lot doesn’t mean I don’t get out, go on trips, date—”
“Name the last time you did any of the above.”
Why was Walker feeling so damned defensive? It had to be the small town, which had him out of his element and out of his normal moods. “I went to the Ace in the Hole last night and did some line dancing.”
Hudson’s brown brows arched. He was a younger version of Walker, with the same facial expressions. “Are you serious? For real?” Hudson said.
“Yes, for real. I’m not all work and no play,” he argued. Although Hudson was right. The last time Walker had done anything like that was so far in the distant past, he couldn’t even remember it. When he was in Tulsa, his days blurred into a constant hamster wheel of work, work and more work. There were deals to be made, holdings to oversee, marketing to develop, accounting reports to analyze. Jones Holdings, Inc., was so diversified that Walker constantly felt like he was playing catch-up. He didn’t have room in his life for anything other than work.
Or at least that was what he told himself. He had a great team working for him, and if he really wanted to, he could take time off. Go on vacation. Pick up a hobby.
Date.
Except he hadn’t had a relationship that lasted more than a couple nights in more than two years. Not since Theresa had ended their five-year relationship, saying she wanted a man who invested his heart, not just his bank account.
Walker still didn’t know what she meant by that. He’d given her everything he could, or thought he had. The lines had been blurred, though, because Theresa had worked for him, and more often than not, their date night conversations had been about work. She’d wanted more romance, she told him, more of his heart.
He’d told her he wasn’t sure he had a heart to give. Work had been his passion for so long, he didn’t know any other way to live. Eventually Theresa had given up on him and moved on. Last he heard, she had married an accountant and was expecting their first child. There were days when Walker wondered if maybe he’d missed out on something great. But those moments only lasted a second, because he was smart enough to know he was happiest when he was at work.
Once again Lindsay Dalton sprang into his mind. She was the kind of woman, Walker was sure, who would want the romance and the kids and the house with a yard. She might be all business in the courtroom, but he sensed a softness about her, a sentimentality, when she smiled. When she’d been talking to her sister. And when she’d started to dance.
That had made him wonder just how much fun Lindsay was trying to hide beneath those courtroom suits.
“Back to the day care,” Walker said, done with thinking about and discussing his personal life. A few days here, and he’d be back to the daily grind. He’d be happier in Tulsa. Less distracted by things like Lindsay Dalton’s smile lingering in his mind. “There’s a lot of ill will toward Just Us Kids because of this lawsuit. In order to expand the business, I need to turn the tide here in Rust Creek Falls. Even if we win the lawsuit, there are still going to be people who will believe the day care caused that illness. I want to head off the negative publicity from the get-go.”
“Something you’re apparently already doing,” Hudson said. “I heard you bought everyone a round last night.”
“How’d you hear about that?”
Hudson grinned. “It’s a small town. Everyone knows everything here.” He took a sip of coffee, then forked up a forgotten last bite of pancake. “If you want to build goodwill here, the best thing you can do is something that gets you involved with the town. One thing about Rust Creek Falls—it’s like a big family. They’ll accept you as one of their own—”
“You make it sound like an ant colony. Or the Borg.”
Hudson laughed. “Pretty close. I never expected to like this place, but you know, living out on Clive Barker’s ranch property and coming into town from time to time...it’s started to grow on me. It might do the same for you.”
Walker scoffed. “I’m leaving the minute this lawsuit is concluded. Until then, all I’m focused on is winning.”
“The lawsuit and the hearts and minds?” Hudson asked.
“All part of the strategy,” Walker said.
Hudson sighed. “Why did I ever think five minutes of dancing meant you were becoming human?’
Walker didn’t dignify that with an answer. If his brother focused more on business and less on having fun, then maybe Hudson would understand.
“You know, Walker, I’m not this irresponsible screwup you keep making me out to be,” Hudson said.
“Then what are you doing with your days instead of overseeing the day care?”
“Going back and forth between here and Wyoming, helping a friend set up a horse ranch. I’m helping him hire people, implement a solid record keeping system, buying the horses...in other words, running a business.”
Walker was impressed, but kept that thought to himself. He didn’t want to encourage his brother to spend time in Wyoming, not with this lawsuit on their backs. “I’d rather you were running the day care here.”
Hudson rolled his eyes. “There is no pleasing you, is there? Can’t you start thinking about something outside the family business for five minutes?”
“That family business puts the money in your bank account to do this horse ranch thing. If you were smart, you’d be helping me protect it, not beating me up for not having more fun.”
Hudson drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, if you want to make people like you, do something nice for the town. Something hands-on. This isn’t the kind of place that’s going to appreciate a bunch of money thrown at it.”
Walker scowled. “I wasn’t going to do any such thing.” Truth be told, he’d thought maybe he could just make a sizable donation to the local community center or a food bank or something and be done with it. He could see Hudson’s point. A round of beers only bought temporary goodwill. He needed something bigger. Something involved. Something...
An orange flyer stuffed in the small plastic tabletop sign holder caught his eye.
Rust Creek Falls Harvest Festival!
Get involved now and help make this year’s festival the best ever!
The announcement was followed by an invitation for volunteers to meet at the local high school Saturday afternoon. Today.
“Here’s something I can do,” he said to his brother, spinning the sign toward Hudson.
Hudson laughed. “You? Help with the harvest festival? Have you ever even attended a festival?”
“Doesn’t matter. All I have to do is pitch in with...whatever they do to put together one of these things. People will see I care about the town. Problem solved.”
Hudson sat back and gave his brother a dubious look. “You honestly think it’s going to be as easy as that? This is real life, big brother. It’s not some report you analyze or an interview you do with some overly enthusiastic CPA.”
“And it’s not rocket science, either.” Walker dropped some bills on the table, leaving a generous tip for the waitress. “You stay in town for a while this time. Get to work at the day care and make sure the place is so clean and neat, no kid would get sick if he licked the floor. When they call you into court—and I’m sure they will, since you are the landlord—you can honestly say you saw that the place was in order. I’ll stop in later, after I check out this festival thing.” He picked up the flyer and tucked it in his pocket. “This might just be step one in my campaign to not only beat Lindsay Dalton but build the Just Us Kids chain.”
And that would get him out of this town, back to work and away from women who lingered in his thoughts for all the wrong reasons.
* * *
Travis had been right. Getting hands-on was a nice change, Lindsay thought as she stacked wood in a pile to start building the vendor booths for the harvest festival. There weren’t that many volunteers here today, probably because a lot of people were at the craft fair at the church. The handful of people in the gymnasium had divvied up the various jobs as best they could, but even Lindsay could see they were going to be shorthanded. She didn’t mind, really. She’d been spending so much time in the office, working on the court case, that it felt good to do something constructive. Something that didn’t also raise her blood pressure because it went with thinking about Walker Jones. Yes, a little construction project today would be a good distraction, on all levels.
Lani came by, with Russ at her side. The two of them looked so blissfully happy that Lindsay felt a flicker of envy. What would it be like to have someone look at her like that? To take her hand, just because, then smile at her like she was the most precious thing on earth?
“Hey, sis, we’re heading out with the landscaping volunteers to do some work in the park. There’s a tree that needs to come down and some shrubbery that needs to be pruned.” Lani gestured toward the wood. “Are you going to work on that by yourself?”
“I think I can handle a few simple booths.” Lindsay flexed a biceps. “I have skills.”
Russ laughed. “You sure you don’t want one of us to stay and help you?”
“No, no, I’ve got it. The outdoor work is important. If that doesn’t get done, there won’t be any place to put the booths.” Lindsay picked up the cordless drill and pressed the button. It whirred and spun. There, that should make her look confident. The booths, after all, were pretty much just oversize squares. “I can do this with my eyes closed.”
“Okay. We should be back in a couple hours. If you need anything, holler.” Lani gave Lindsay a quick hug, then the two of them headed out the door.
Lindsay propped her hands on her hips and looked at the pile of wood. She had a rudimentary sketch, given to her by Sam Traven, co-owner of the Ace in the Hole, of what the booths should look like. A box base, with a long flat piece of plywood to serve as a table, then a frame above it to hang signage from. Like a child’s lemonade stand, only bigger.
She had a cordless drill, wood screws and precut wood. What she didn’t have was a clue of how to put this together. Okay, so maybe she’d been a little too optimistic when she told Lani and Russ she could handle this.
Lindsay picked up a two-by-four, then one of the shorter pieces. It seemed like this shorter piece should create the sides, then connect to another shorter piece, then another longer one... Okay, one piece at a time. It was just a big box, right?
She put the longest piece on the floor, then got out a wood screw and let the magnetic end of the drill bit connect to it. She knelt beside the two pieces, then tried to hold the shorter one in place while she drilled the screw into it and connected them.
Or tried to. Turned out that holding a piece of wood with her left hand while trying to operate the cordless drill with her right hand was a whole lot harder than they made it look on Fix or Flip. The screw whined, twirled into the wood, but refused to go straight, leaving the whole connection askew. Lindsay brushed her bangs off her forehead, then flipped the switch on the drill and tried to back the screw out. It whined and spun but didn’t pull back.
“It works a lot better if you use a little pressure,” said a deep voice behind her.
Lindsay sighed and rocked back on her heels. “Thanks. Do you mind help—” She cut off her words when she realized who belonged to the voice.
Walker Jones III.
Great. The last person she wanted to see. He was like a mangy dog, turning up in the least likely places, at the worst possible times. “What are you doing here?”
He nodded toward the wood pile. “Same as you. Helping with the harvest festival.”
She scoffed. “Right. And why the heck would you do that?”
“To build goodwill.” He shrugged. “I want people in this town to like me. So sue me. Oh, wait, you already are.”
At least he was honest about why he was here. But that didn’t make her like the idea any more. She wanted Walker Jones gone from Rust Creek Falls, gone from her peripheral vision...just gone. Even if he did looked damned good in jeans and a white button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up. “You just want to win the lawsuit. Buying a round of beers and helping set up for a harvest festival won’t do that.”
“Walker Jones?” Rosey Traven, Sam’s wife and the other co-owner of the Ace in the Hole, came striding over. She reached out and took his hand, giving him a hearty shake. “I heard you were in my bar last night, buying beers for everyone. That was a really nice thing to do.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, shaking Rosey’s hand as he spoke. “I figured since I was new in town, I should say thank you for the warm welcome I received.”
Warm welcome? Lindsay rolled her eyes.
“Well, there’s no better way to say thank you than with a couple of drinks.” Rosey smiled, then turned to Lindsay. “Hi, Lindsay. Nice to see you here today. We sure appreciate your help with the booths.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad to help.” She pointed at the convoluted boards. “Once I figure out how, that is.”
“You’ve got some handsome help here. I’m sure he can figure out how to get that together right quick.” Rosey smiled at Walker. “I best be going. Sam and I are bringing sandwiches to all the volunteers in the park. You two have fun!”
Which left Lindsay alone with Walker. Again. “Listen, we are on two different sides of a lawsuit,” she said, trying to work the drill again and back out the screw. It whined and groaned in place. “Damn it!”
“You’re going to strip the screw. Let me help you.” Walker’s hand covered hers.
She didn’t want to like his touch. Didn’t want to react. But her body didn’t listen to her head. The second his hand connected with hers, his larger fingers encompassing her smaller ones, a little flutter ran through her veins. In that instant, she was acutely aware of how close he was. How good he smelled. How the veins in his hands extended up his muscular forearms.
And how much she wanted to kiss him.
“I’ve got it.” She yanked the drill up, so fast and so hard that it sent her sprawling back. That flutter had been an anomaly. That was all.
Walker’s hand was there again, stopping her from hitting the floor. A quick touch, but it sent another explosion through her veins. “Whoa. I said a little pressure. Not a tidal wave.”
“I can handle this. I don’t need your help.” It was a lie—she needed help—but she didn’t want it from the man she had sworn to hate. The same man who was—damn it—handsome. And intriguing.
“How many things have you built?” Walker said.
“None.” She waved that answer off. “But I can read directions.”
“That’s great, except some things come with experience, not directions.” Walker gestured toward the misassembled corner. “You are a smart, capable, beautiful woman, but you are tearing up that screw head and making it almost impossible to take those two pieces apart. Now, you may not want my help, but I think you need it, at least for a minute.”
Had he just called her beautiful? Why did a part of her do a little giddy dance at that?
Lindsay bent her head and worked on the screw again, but the two pieces of wood were not coming apart. The screw refused to go anywhere but in a pointless circle. Lindsay really didn’t know what to do with a stripped screw head, or what one even was, only that it sounded bad. She was going to mess this up, and that would mean someone would have to buy more wood. For a festival that was operating on a shoestring budget to begin with, that would be a disaster, and Lindsay didn’t want that on her shoulders. She knew when she was beaten, even if the victor was some scraps of wood and a single screw.
She handed him the drill. “Fine. You do it.”
To his credit, Walker didn’t say I told you so. He held the pieces firmly with one hand, pressed the drill into the screw and let the bit whir slowly as he backed the screw out a little at a time. Clearly, the key was patience and pressure.
Pretty much the same thing in a court case, Lindsay thought. A lot of patience and a little pressure usually equaled success.
“Thanks,” she said. The two pieces of wood were still intact, though the screw was worse for wear. Far better to replace one screw than the more expensive wood, which was still fine to use. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed.”
Walker chuckled. “I can’t build a house or anything, but I do have some handyman skills. My grandpa liked to make things, and I was at his house most weekends when I was a kid, so he taught me what he could.” His gaze went to someplace far away. Dwelling on memories, perhaps? “I miss him terribly, and every time I see a birdhouse, it makes me think of him. He was a hell of a guy.”

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