His first reaction, to say yes, was drowned by a voice whispering They barely notice you’re gone, making him rethink his answer. Every case he worked included an entire team of lawyers. He flattered himself thinking he was the best of the pack, but no one had even called for input since his leave started.
That didn’t mean anything. Maybe they’d been told not to bother him.
“I do a good job.”
Artie chuckled. “That’s not what I asked.”
Lucas shrugged, uncomfortable with the topic. “Every defendant needs a lawyer, right? So I’m needed.”
“They don’t necessarily need a lawyer, they’re just entitled to one. And I’ve never figured you for the type to be one of many.”
“I’m making something of myself up there. My name will be on the door someday. Someday soon,” he added.
“Ah, yes. But one name among many.”
“It’s been a long day.” Lucas rose from the bench, ignoring the protest from his feet. “I’d better get going. I need to get to the hospital before visiting hours are over.”
“By all means, don’t let me hold you up. Tell Tom we’re all thinking about him.” Artie leaned an arm across the back of the bench, shifting his center bulk. “About the feet? Epsom salts and hot water. Takes the sting out.”
Lucas nodded and continued on his way.
One of many.
That just meant he’d risen over many to get to the top. Nothing wrong with that, he told himself, ignoring the doubts his former mentor had just planted.
CHAPTER SIX
Sid parked her truck outside the abandoned brick building at eight the next morning. Old Man Fisher’s Cadillac blocked the garage door so she knew he was inside. The codger had been giving her grief about not having the down payment ready, but this time she had better news.
The funds weren’t in place—yet—but if she pulled in the same tips for the next six weeks as she had the day before, the goal would be hit by Labor Day, one month before Fisher’s latest deadline.
He’d been pushing back the deadline since the spring, always with the demand that this was the last time. They both knew no one else was interested in this piece of property. Too close to the water. Too far from the main strip. Too old to be of interest to tourists, and too run down for anyone to see its true potential.
But Sid could see it. Her dream would come to life inside these old bricks. All she needed was Fisher to be a little more patient, and the tips to keep rolling in.
“About time you got here. I’ve been standing around for thirty minutes.”
Sid sighed. These meetings were always a test. If she were her usual, go-fuck-yourself self, Fisher would have turned her down without a second thought. The property had been empty for five years and she knew he’d leave it empty for five more just to spite her if she called him on his bullshit.
“You said eight o’clock. I’m right on time.” Not giving him a chance to argue, Sid charged through the faded front door into the dank interior. Hot air encased her like a wet blanket as she checked for damage from the last rainfall. All cobwebs remained in place. No puddles beneath the windows.
Storm weathered, like she knew it would. The building had been standing for nearly eighty years, through countless hurricanes and storms, and would endure another eighty years to come. With her name on the door.
“You got the money together yet?” Fisher brushed a sleeve against the doorjamb, then pulled back as if frightened of a little dirt. “Or did you bring me out here for nothing?”
“Good news on that front,” Sid said.
“Better be,” said Fisher, his furrowed brow sending wrinkles into his receding hairline like waves chasing the sand.
Sid was too happy to be put off by the attitude. “You gave me until October first, but thanks to a new opportunity, I should have the full down payment by Labor Day. That’s almost a month early.”
“Who said October first?” Fisher pushed his glasses up his bulbous nose and stuck out his bottom lip. Why did everything have to be an argument?
“You did. The last time we talked. And it doesn’t matter because I’m going to have the money the first week of September.”
Pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of his gray polyester pants, Fisher mopped his forehead. “I don’t remember anything about October.”
“Are you listening to me?” Sid asked, struggling to control her temper. “I’m going to have the money.”
“You’ve been saying that since the first of the year. I’ll believe it when I see it.” Exiting the building, he added, “But don’t expect me to wait forever. I’ve got others looking at this place too.”
Sid had been dealing with Fisher long enough to recognize a bluff when she saw one. “Six weeks, Mr. Fisher. Six weeks and this will be a done deal.” She trailed behind him, using the sleeve of her West Marine T-shirt to catch the sweat running down her cheek. “I’ll have the money and you won’t have to deal with this place anymore.”
“Like I said,” he opened his car door, “I’ll believe it when I have the check in my hand. And don’t go assuming I can’t find another buyer.”
Sid grabbed the door handle as Fisher plunked onto the leather seat. “Mr. Fisher.” She waited until he met her gaze. “Six weeks. I swear. Just give me six weeks.”
The man smacked his chops like a cow chewing cud, then conceded. “I’ve waited this long, haven’t I? I make no promises, that’s all I’ll say.” With that, he tugged the door from her grasp and started the engine.
Doubt crept into her brain as Sid watched him drive away. No one else had even glanced at this property in years. Fisher had to be bluffing. If there’d been another offer on the table, he’d have told her right then to forget about it. But he hadn’t.
Turning back to the garage, she pictured how the building would look when she was done with it. New paint around the windows. Pressure-washed red bricks gleaming in the sun. A new garage door with the words Navarro Boat Repair & Restoration in bold black letters.
Six weeks. That’s all she needed.
For the first time in three years, Lucas skipped his morning run. His body refused to get out of bed, and since he needed his body to perform the exercise, the run was a no-go. As it was, he had to negotiate a deal to make his body move in time for a shower before work. Where he’d find a rocking Key lime pie, Lucas didn’t know. But his body took the bribe, which put him at the restaurant less than five minutes before Sid.
Sporting her now familiar ponytail, Sid charged through the door the way a boxer enters the ring. She seemed to wake up every day ready to take on the world. But there were moments, when she didn’t think anyone was watching, that she dropped her guard. In those brief lapses, Lucas caught a glimpse of the woman behind the act.
The snarl would slide into a sexy grin. The brows relaxed and the normally challenging eyes softened. Lightened. Her body shifted to a casual stance, one hip kicked out giving the impression of soft curves beneath loose-fitting denim.
Lucas made a note to add an amendment to the new bylaw. Sid not only was not permitted to wear oversized shirts, she must wear form-fitting jeans or nothing at all. The thought of nothing at all threatened to drain the blood from his brain, and a new fantasy developed in his mind. Ebony curls dropping onto olive shoulders. Full breasts covered in lace peeking through a satin robe.
“You smoke something before coming in?”
Lucas shook the erotic scene from his mind. Why the hell was he fantasizing over something he’d never get near? Stupid ass. He went for a blank expression, but knew it was a long shot.