Shiv awoke to voices in the kitchen. She got out of bed and peered out the window. It was dusk, which meant she’d been sleeping for hours. Ordinarily, Joey would’ve stirred her, afraid she’d been sleeping too long.
It had gotten to be a problem, even Shiv recognized that. The psychologist Joey had made Shiv see believed she suffered from clinical depression, likely triggered by her stroke. Shiv wouldn’t have put such a fancy title to it. Back in her day, they just called it the blues. Even so, she didn’t seem able to shake it. Frankly, it took too much energy to be happy.
The voices grew louder. Shiv got curious, so she put on a decent pair of jeans and a blouse and shuffled off to the kitchen. There, she found Ryder and the lawyer who’d been at the house before.
“Hey, Ma, you remember Flynn?”
The young man stood to greet her. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Knight.”
“Has there been a development?”
“Turns out the Addisons have put the Beary Quaint on the market,” Ryder said. “We suspect they want to clean up the neighborhood to impress potential buyers. And that’s why they’ve been harassing me about the fifth wheel and my semis.”
“Oh my.” Shiv reached into the fridge for the pitcher of Joey’s sun tea. “Is this good news or bad?”
Flynn chuckled. “Hard to say at this point. The good news is, if the Addisons sell, we’ll be rid of them.”
She poured herself a glass of tea. “Can I offer anyone else a glass?”
“No thanks,” Flynn said.
“Where’s Joey?” she asked.
“She ran to the market.”
Shiv had suspected as much when she didn’t see her. The sweet girl was always running here and there to make sure Shiv had everything she needed.
“So, what do you do now?” she asked Ryder and Flynn. “Do you still send the letter?”
“That’s what we were discussing,” Flynn said. “On the one hand, it’s a nice little threat to hold over their heads. And if we actually find a code violation, they’d have to disclose it to any potential buyers. On the other hand, it might behoove us just to lie low and hope the Addisons sell the Beary Quaint fast and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I could certainly see the dilemma.”
“What would you do, Ma?” Ryder turned to Flynn. “My mom used to work for a big-time Superior Court judge in Stanislaus County.” His expression was filled with pride, which both delighted Shiv and broke her heart. Now she was just an old, irrelevant woman.
“No kidding. Which judge?”
“Judge Morgan Lester,” Shiv said, her voice a little too reverent because Ryder looked at her funny. “Have you gone before him?”
“No, ma’am. My practice is farther north, primarily serving Sacramento and Plumas counties. And back when I was a federal prosecutor, I didn’t see the insides of too many county courthouses. What did you do for Judge Lester, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Not at all. I was his courtroom clerk.”
“You don’t say. How long?”
“Thirty years.”
“She read the verdicts in the highway murder case,” Ryder said.
It had been one of the highest profile cases in California, right up there with O.J. Simpson and the Scott Peterson trial. Every day, Morgan’s courtroom had been packed with reporters from all over the country. The New York Times, the Sacramento Bee, the San Francisco Chronicle, and the Los Angeles Times, to name a few.
It had been a capital case, and Shiv had read verdicts during both the guilt and penalty phases, which had been aired on all the network and cable news channels. For a while, it had sort of been like being a celebrity. People at the market, at restaurants, and even at gas stations had recognized her from the trial.
“That must’ve been something else,” Flynn said.
Despite being an established lawyer himself, Flynn seemed legitimately impressed.
“It was,” she said, a sadness sweeping over her. “But I’m retired now.”
“Well, if you ever decide to come out of retirement, let me know.”
She sipped her sun tea. “Why’s that?”
“I could use someone like you on my staff. Doris, my right-hand woman, left me high and dry.” His lips tipped up. “Nah, she’s semiretired. Only works for me a couple of days a week in Sacramento and spends the rest of the time with her grandkids. I could use someone to fill in the rest of the week in my office here. Someone who knows their way around legal jargon and can sweet-talk court clerks.” He winked.
“You have an office here?” Ryder asked, surprised.
“Yeah, it’s called my ranch.” He turned back to Shiv. “I commandeered one of the outbuildings and had Colin work his magic. You’d have your own office, your own coffee mug, even your own parking spot. No pressure, though.”
“My ma’s recuperating from a stroke.”
“I’m fine,” she said, excitement coursing through her. “Ryder and Joey like to fuss over me. But my physical therapist and doctor have given me a clean bill of health.” Her doctor hadn’t given her any such thing. But if she asked her, she probably would. Shiv hadn’t had any of the debilitating headaches she’d gotten in the weeks following the stroke, nor had she experienced dizziness like she had before. And her balance was nearly back to normal. She wasn’t sure she was ready to drive again, though.
Oh, for the love of God, why was she even considering a job? She was retired, for goodness’ sake.
Because I miss getting up every morning with purpose. Stop it, she told herself. She was moving to a retirement community in Reno.
“There’s no rush,” Flynn said. “Take some time to think it over. We could always try it, and if you find it’s too much, no hard feelings. In the meantime, why don’t you, Ryder, and Joey come over for dinner one of these nights and meet my wife, Gia? You’ll love her.”
“That sounds lovely,” Shiv said, and they went back to debating the pros and cons of whether to send the Addisons the letter Flynn had composed.
* * * *
Joey lay in bed, listening to the breeze rustle through the trees in the night. Ryder was back to hiding in his camper. When she’d gotten home from shopping—and taking a detour to drop off some freshly baked cookies from The Farm at the Circle D for the kids—he’d declined dinner and had taken off for a few hours.
She had no idea where he’d gone and tried not to think about it. Around eight, she’d heard him pull up, then the sound of his creaky camper door open and close. He’d exposed too much of himself earlier and was salving his pain by holing up with his two best friends, Pity and Sorrow.
She got it. Hers used to be Oxycodone and Fentanyl.
She rolled over and closed her eyes, but sleep eluded her. She kept thinking about what Ryder had told her. How he’d blamed himself for the death of his wife and child. How he’d lived with the guilt all these years and let it fester like a malignant cancer. It broke her heart.
It also should’ve reinforced that he was broken and that trying to fix him would only bring disappointment. But she was a nurse, for God’s sake.
She got up, threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and followed the now well-beaten path to his front door. He opened it before she could even knock as if he’d been waiting for her or at least anticipating her visit.
He didn’t speak, just pulled her into his arms and kissed her until he made her forget what she’d come for. Or maybe she’d come for this. It had always been this way between them. Sex-driven and hot. But there was more. In the short time she’d come here, they’d become friends. Champions for each other. Confidantes. Companions.
And somewhere along the line, she’d fallen in love.
His hands moved over her in a frenzy. Unlike the other times, when he’d taken the time to seduce, he rushed to get her clothes off, clumsily wrestling with her buttons and clasps.
She was too turned on to care, though she should’ve. But if he needed her body to escape his pain, she’d give it to him willingly at the risk of her heart.
“Here or in bed?” he asked breathless, dragging his shirt over his head.
She wanted the bed but had a feeling they wouldn’t make it. He pressed her against the wall, rocking into her so that she felt his thickness through his jeans. She clawed at his fly, trying to undo his buttons, feeling as frenzied for him as he was for her.
He pushed her hand away, got his pants open just enough to free himself, seemed to pull a condom out of thin air, and thrust inside her. Their height disparity made it difficult, so he lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips and let him take her against the wall.
He was ruthless, pounding into her again and again. The friction and the desperation in each one of his powerful thrusts brought her to orgasm almost instantly. She clenched around him, calling out his name, overcome by the intensity of the moment.
Ryder climaxed at almost the same time, his body shuddering as he took his release, his arms straining to hold on to her. When it was over, she slid down the wall onto the floor.
The sex had only lasted a matter of minutes, yet she’d never experienced anything as passionate or as powerful in her life.
She sat there naked and flushed, covered in a sheen of sweat. Ryder stood over her, panting for breath. At some point, he removed the condom and threw it away.
She thought this was it. Now he would turn his back on her. But he surprised her by lifting her off the floor and carrying her to his bed. He stripped off his clothes, and she felt the mattress dip with his weight. Soon, his hands were on her, fondling her breasts while his lips strung kisses across her neck.
He murmured something inaudible, and she whispered back, “I love you.”
His hand moved between her legs, and he stroked her until she was writhing and rocking against him for more. His mouth slid down her chest, over her belly, and dipped lower until he was there, tasting her. She took fistfuls of the sheets in both hands and cried out with the sheer pleasure of his tongue lapping against her.
He brought her to the brink, then kissed his way up her thigh until he was at her breasts. She felt him grow hard again and expected their foreplay to turn frantic as it had before. But he took his time, touching and laving every inch of her body with his mouth. He moved over her and kissed her deeply. Reverently.
She closed her eyes, her heart coming out of her chest as he whispered in her ear, “You’re so beautiful.” But he never once uttered the words she wanted to hear.
The nightstand scraped open, and he rolled on another condom. This time when he entered her, he went slow, only moving a fraction inside her. Still, she felt every inch of him, every pulse, every twitch. Every word that went unsaid.
Warm moonlight seeped through the window blinds and washed over them, casting a glow over Ryder’s broad back. She loved the way his muscles bunched, the way his strong arms felt around her, and the way his pale blue eyes seemed to see inside her soul.
He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her lips, soft as a whisper. She could feel his heart beating with every stroke. He reached under her, holding her up, so he could go deeper and increase his pace.
She met him thrust for thrust, falling into a perfect rhythm. A dance as old as time. They climaxed like that, almost exactly at the same time. When he tried to roll off her, she held him tight, afraid to let go.
“Love me,” she whispered.
He turned his face away, and in a cracked voice that sounded a million miles away, said, “I can’t.”