Callahan sat down and said, “Such a shame your calendar’s booked out.”
“It’s not, but don’t tell Missy.”
Callahan gave a wry smile. “Good. Got a case for you. Know anything about tree law?”
I hesitated before settling on the truth. “I’ve read a subreddit on tree law?”
“I don’t know what a sub-whatever is,” Callahan said, “but I’d like you to take a look at this.”
Honestly, after the day I’d had, a case that involved trees instead of people sounded real tempting. “Sure thing.”
“Great. A guy’s neighbor chainsawed down the maple in his front yard, and he wants to know if he can sue. It’s over in Goose Run.” He said that as though it was supposed to mean something.
“Sorry, where?”
“Goose Run. It’s around sixty miles from here.”
I grabbed my phone and pulled up maps and typed in “Goose Run.”
“You won’t need that. Take the intern. He’ll give you directions.”
“I don’t think?—”
Callahan flapped a hand. “Heknows a surprising amount about tree law. He’ll be useful.” He eased himself out of the chair and stood there waiting, so I guessed I was going right now.
I followed him out to the front desk where the intern was playing with a fidget cube.
“Hey,” Callahan said, leaning on the countertop. “Wanna go on down to Goose Run with Miller? Got a case there. It’s tree law.”
The intern twirled around in his chair, face alight with excitement. “Really?”
“Really,” Callahan said, giving him an indulgent smile.
The intern stood up, brushing down the front of his blue and orange Hawaiian shirt, and said, “What are we waiting for? Road trip, bro!”
I hadn’t thought my day could get any worse after catching an eyeful of a naked Missy Thurston-Wallace.
Obviously, I hadn’t counted on being stuck in a car with Marty fucking O’Brien.
CHAPTER 3
DANNY
It was dinnertime when someone started hammering on the front door like I owed them money.
Probably that fucking fuck from next door, come to put a chainsaw through the walls. I wouldn’t put anything past him.
To say I was pissed at Harlan didn’t even come close to describing the rage bubbling in my veins. Every time I thought about the tree I got so mad that I had to stop whatever I was doing, clench my fists, and scream, “Motherfucker!” at the top of my lungs until I felt better.
When I’d rushed outside into the weak predawn light after being ripped from my sleep this morning, I’d been greeted by the sight of Harlan wielding his chainsaw with terrifying efficiency. He’d been two-thirds of the way through the trunk of the big tree, and he’d continued to cut the maple down, ignoring me completely despite me screaming at him and okay, maybe throwing a branch at his head. I’d started filming him, but he’d ignored that too.
When the main trunk of the tree had hit the ground with a solidwhump, my stomach had hit my knees with roughly the same impact. I’d stared in disbelief at the remains of the maple.It was old as hell and had been there for as long as I could remember.
Harlan was goddamn lucky he was also old as hell, or I might have punched him right in the face. The guys hadn’t been as restrained. Wilder and Chase had been wild—Chase especially, but that was Chase all over. Hell, even Cash had been riled up enough to mutter under his breath, which was more than anyone usually got out of him. But Harlan had ignored all of us and walked away like he hadn’t just massacred my grandma’s tree.
Then I’d had to call Bobby and tell him I’d be running late since the tree was now blocking the driveway, and he’d come by in his rattling old pickup to collect me with his pet goose flapping around in the cargo bed. I’d been on edge my whole shift, wondering what Harlan might do next or what my roommates might do in return, and I’d been relieved as hell to get home and discover that nothing had changed except someone had cut a chunk out of the tree so at least we could use the driveway again.
The guys had still been simmering away like pots on the stove, but at least no more shit had gone down since the morning. We were just sitting down to a rare dinner where we were all eating at the same time—just beans and rice but that was about as fancy as we ever got—when the pounding came on the front door.
