14
W-H-I-T-E-K-N-I-G-H-T
For the first time in his career, Grady was grateful to spend the day in court. Admittedly, he was stalling. Hattie had called him a few hours ago and said that if he didn’t come home and talk to Claire, she was officially disowning him.
Part of him was desperate to get back to Claire and talk it through. Most of him was terrified of getting slapped in the face and being called out as the biggest jerk she’d ever laid eyes on.
He pictured Dr. Strange holding up a single finger. One chance to get it right. There was no snapping his fingers out of this one.
“You make it sound so easy. Pippa was your high school sweetheart.” He loosened his tie and crashed into his office chair.
Lincoln dropped into the seat opposite. “Not that she made it easy. She insisted we needed to focus on our careers and spread our wings to be certain we were right for each other. Officially broken up through college, we dated other people. It was awful, knowing the love of my life was out there, but she wouldn’t have me.” Lincoln’s day had been much more sedate, and he’d skipped the suit and tie today.
“How do I even open the conversation?Claire, I know it’s only been a few days, but I’m desperately in love with you, even though you’re a cheating whore.” That sounded even worse out loud than it had in his head.
“Let’s not go with ‘cheating whore.’ How about you start with, ‘Hello,’ and possibly add, ‘How are you?’” Lincoln looked him up and down, lingering on the yellow shiner that was enhanced by the dark circles under his eyes. “You know, I think you should go exactly as you are right now. Don’t change a thing. Go get her.”
Grady rose from the chair and looked down at himself. He re-tucked his shirt, straightened his pant legs, and smoothed his hair.
Lincoln pushed Grady out the door, knowing he’d hover and fret for hours without a good shove. “Don’t overthink it. You’re a good lawyer, so pretend you’re in court and she’s an unsympathetic judge. Work out your opening statement on the drive over. You’ve come up with utter brilliance in less time.”
Grumbling, Grady headed out the door in front of Lincoln. He hopped in his Forerunner and fired up the engine. Not even the windshield wipers could keep up with the increasing torrent of snow, but he managed to clear the layer of snow that had accumulated in the few minutes since he’d returned from the courthouse.
Lincoln hovered outside the passenger door. Grady opened the window and inwardly rolled his eyes. Not one morehelpful tip, as his entire, happily relationshipped group of friends had decided he was too dense to figure this out on his own and had flooded him with advice all day. They weren’t wrong. “What?”
Lincoln leaned in the open window, a gust of snowflakes whirling into the car around him. “Let her know how you feel, then give her time to think it over. And hear her out. If her defense is shoddy, she’s probably worth forgetting anyway.”
Grady rolled his eyes at yet another helpful suggestion. “Got it. Thanks.”
Traffic was sparse in the freezing evening. Grady forced air into his lungs, leaving the windows down, counting on the wintery chill to revive him. Stronger by the minute, the oversized snowflakes melted on the leather interior. Maybe this was a bad idea.
Thick clouds darkened the sky, casting one massive, eerie gloom over the region. Folks were turning in for the night, yet it was only four in the afternoon. The forecast had been updated in the last hour, calling for the snow to pick up overnight, but it looked more like a dumping was on the way.
The flakes coated the county road on the way to his parents’ house. No, these were fluffy golf balls plummeting from the sky... flake was way too tame of a word for these monsters.
He clutched the steering wheel as the tires raged against the thickening snow and tried not to focus on what a shit-show his life had become lately. No home. Balancing two jobs, the career he’d invested his entire education on, and the business he actually liked, but didn’t have time for. And his love life was about as precarious as it could get.
He didn’t bother parking around back, as his mother preferred. He probably wouldn’t be staying long anyway. If this didn’t go well, he might have to skip town entirely.
At this point, he didn’t give a shit how much of a disappointment Patricia found him to be. Come the gala, she had Ryder to present, with his gorgeous fiancée and his successful career. No one would notice if Grady wasn’t there.
He took a bolstering breath and stepped out. Movement from the barn in the distance caught his attention. Of course, Claire would be out with the horses rather than spending the afternoon under his mother’s scrutiny. Although she was a good sport, Patricia was an overbearing force of un-nature and would probably push wedding plans on her.
His toes were freezing in the leather oxfords, and the cuffs of his pants likely irreparably water damaged from the rapidly accumulating snow, but he didn’t care.
As he got closer, he heard breathy moans and high-pitched squeaks. Damn, apparently she and Ryder were doing ok after all. He backed away slowly before anyone saw him.
Wait... that’s not Claire. Wow, he really shouldn’t know the sound of his brother’s fiancée in the grips of... yeah.
Quietly, he crept closer to be sure, following the indiscrete sounds. Cozy in the stable office, Sasha, their stablemaster, was wrapped around Ryder, and the pair was making out like a couple of eager teenagers.
Recoiling, Grady backed away. What the hell? Should he tell Claire what he’d seen? Did they have an open relationship, hence the coming on to him?
Not worth deciding today. Run and hide was a much more enticing option considering recent events. He stalked toward his SUV, his pulse firing faster than Sasha’s squeaks.
His tracks from the walk over were already filled in, the snow halfway up his shins already. He’d better move fast to get to Asher’s before the roads were impassable. Nearly back to his car, he had his hand on the door before Ryder came running out of the stable. At first, he hadn’t even seen him through the dense snowfall.
