“Nope.” Nick’s hands remained relaxed on the steering wheel, but even so, a tension seemed to spiral from him.
“I’m sorry to pry,” I said, meaning it. I’d had no right to ask. He’d been so nice to me, and now I’d overstepped. This was all so odd, but I wanted him to like me—especially professionally. Maybe on a friend level. Man.
He glanced at me; his bourbon colored eyes soft. “We were talking about family, and it’s a logical question. Don’t worry about offending me. If you ever do, which I doubt, I’ll let you know.” His smile released the worry I’d been holding.
I nodded, oddly grateful. He probably could level somebody with a reprimand. Even so, Nick Basanelli was hard to pin down. He was definitely ambitious, but his kindness at the moment helped. Juries probably really did love him. I suddenly wanted to know everything about him, including where he’d been and what he’d been doing besides practicing law. Did he have a girlfriend? My face heated again, and I turned to watch the lake out the window. He was my boss, and I had to keep him in that category.
Being a female attorney in a small town was one thing, and it came with certain advantages, but it could all be tanked by sleeping with the boss. With anyone in the legal community, actually. I had to be careful, and I knew it. Not that Nick was sending those vibes, anyway.
My mind flashed to Aiden and his sizzling blue eyes. Talk about vibes. All sorts of heated and wild ones. Just the thought of him finally banished the chill with a heated flush. What a disaster. I had to get over the childhood crush I’d held for him and do my job. Hopefully I could clear him or help him in the process, but I had to stop thinking about him as my hero. Same with Nick. They were both strong men, intriguing men, but I had enough on my plate.
It was time to be my own hero.
Maybe I should get a cat or something that would be warm and furry and love me. With that thought, I sighed and rested my head against the window. It was so hard being a grownup.
Chapter 9
The sun set across the lake in hues of bright pink and yellow when Nick and I returned to the office and walked from the parking lot and along the rose bushes to turn the corner. My mother was waiting on the front steps of the Justice Building.
Nick’s cheek creased. “Looks like word has spread,” he whispered.
I sighed and moved in for a hug, trying to keep my composure as my mom’s rose scent surrounded me. “I’m fine.” I stepped back, studying her.
My mom bore a striking resemblance to Maureen O’Hara from herThe Parent TrapDays. Red hair cut in a bob, soft green eyes, and a jaw of pure Irish rock. She wore pressed white pants with a light blue sweater nipped at the waist, and her shiny gold cross matched her gold stud earrings. Her pink lips were pursed, and those eyes held familiar worry. Raising three girls, three very-different-from-each-other girls, had given my mother lines at her eyes that were a perfect combination of laughter and worry. Today they were all worry. “You must stop getting shot at.”
I couldn’t stop my chuckle that unfortunately held a hint of hysteria. I couldn’t lose it in front of both my mother and Nick. My nerves felt like they’d been scraped raw by an old handsaw, and holding myself together caused my arms to tremble just enough that my mom tightened her hold, making me want to cry like a toddler who’d scraped her knee. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, instead.
Nick stepped in. “Mrs. Albertini. It’s very nice to see you.” He held out his hand like his mama no doubt had taught him to do.
My mom’s eyebrow arched, and she released me to extend her hand for what appeared to be a gentle shake. “I’ve heard you were back in town, Nick. Please tell me you’re going to put a stop to all of this drug nonsense and shootouts.” Her soft lilt was iron strong with the demand.
Although I was a little miffed that she expected the big, strong man to handle the problems, I did understand. He was, after all, now the head prosecutor and my boss. Even so, I spoke up. “We’re working on it, Mom. It’s a couple of cases, and don’t worry. The shooting is over.” Scot was dead, so the killers unfortunately had been successful. But were they the same shooters from the other day? Those had been aiming at Aiden or at Randy Taylor, so my churning gut told me there was still danger out there, and somehow, I kept ending up in the middle of it.
“All the shooters are done?” My mother kept her attention on Nick, apparently following the same train of thought.
His smile was charming with a boatload of respect. “I don’t know, Mrs. Albertini.”
My mom’s nod was all approval. She did like the truth. “Thank you for the honesty.” She removed her hand and then patted his arm right above the monogrammed cuffs. “However, you’re in charge now, Nicolo.”
I tried not to wince.
She leaned in, the Irish in her voice now out in full force. “That means that the shooting must stop, and it’s your job to make it happen. Your duty requires protecting the people working for you. I’m speaking to you as a mother. Do we understand each other?”
There was only one answer, and Nick gave it, his eyes sparkling. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good boy.” She patted him again and then linked her arm through mine, gently turning us both. “Now Anna, I’ll give you a ride to Wanda’s. You didn’t forget your appointment, did you?”
My stomach dropped. I had forgotten. Completely. “Mom, I don’t think—”
“I figured.” For a woman two inches shorter and probably twenty pounds lighter than me, she moved like a good wind, within seconds having me at her Ford Taurus, circa two thousand and five. People from Silverville bought and kept American, trading vehicles only when they fell apart. Fords rarely did.
I slipped inside, and the smell of the lavender air freshener somehow eased through me, relaxing my shoulders from down around my ears. It had been a tough couple of days. Maybe speaking with a shrink wasn’t a bad idea, although dredging up all the emotions from the past didn’t seem necessary. I had enough of a disaster going on in real time that maybe we could just concentrate on that.
“That Basanelli boy grew into his ears,” my mom mused, handing over a plain T-shirt for me to change into. Then she started the engine and drove out of the lot at a too rapid speed.
I gratefully changed my shirt and then yanked on my seatbelt. “Um.”
She ripped around the corner onto the main street. “I’ve heard he’s single. Was engaged.”
