Chapter 1
“You got everything you need, kid?” Judge asked.
“Yeah.” I looked down at my clothes and winced. “Well, almost everything. I’d kill for a shower right now.”
Judge’s laughter flooded through my Bluetooth earpiece as I squinted through the cracked windshield of my vintage ’73 Volkswagen Beetle, manually rolled down the window, and tried to breathe in some fresh air. Even though my temporary home was only a couple miles outside the city limits of Trinity Falls, I was having a hard time navigating the entrance to the driveway.
“Don’t say that too loud, Alexa,” Judge teased. “I’m still a judge at heart.”
“Duly noted, sir.”
I’d planned on being at the house around four, but the county jail in Trinity Falls had been running behind, and by the time I was processed through, it was nearly six. Who knew the jail would be so busy on a Wednesday evening?
“Lance told me to tell you that everything looks good regarding your place to stay,” Judge continued in my ear, “and not to worry, he’s sending Kat and Mimi over tonight to help you settle in and bring you your clothes and other personal items.”
When the county sheriff had arrested me during my sit-in protest three days ago, my first call had been to Lance. He then called Judge—another life-saving staple in my life—and the two men quickly swarmed the jail. Only, to my surprise, they weren’t alone. They’d also brought with them an older, handsome guy everyone just called Sheriff—including the current sheriff. Evidently, the older sheriff never lost his title even though he’d been retired for a few years. Also tagging along to witness my embarrassing incarceration were a handful of spitfire older ladies named Mimi, Gilda, Marla, and Ingrid…and Mimi’s granddaughter, Kat.
A day after my incarceration, I was arraigned in front of Judge Lawson. When it came time to set the bail, Lance told me it would be best if I stayed another night or two in jail to show good faith since I wasn’t from Trinity Falls, but he assured me he already had a plea agreement going with the DAs office. Because I trusted Lance implicitly—and a two-day stint in a jail cell wasn’t exactly new to me—I agreed to stay in, and two days after my initial incarceration, I went before the same judge to plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge of Criminal Mischief. To my utter surprise, not only was Judge there to support me, but so were all the rest of the people I’d lovingly dubbed the Geriatric Gang.
When it came time for me to enter my guilty plea and for the terms of the plea agreement to be read into the court record, I was being sentenced to one-week house arrest, twelve hours of community service, and I was ordered to stay at least five hundred feet from developer Bernie Schuler for one month. Lance then informed the presiding judge that I already had a place to stay to finish out my one-week house arrest, and I could start my community service hours on Monday. All this was news to me, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“I found the driveway,” I said. “I better get off here. When will I see you and Lance?”
“Soon,” Judge said. “You keep your chin up, Alexa, and continue to fight the good fight.”
I ended the call and drove up the long, narrow driveway until it ended in front of a two-car detached garage that matched the Victorian house. The house was a beauty. Wide, wraparound porch with round columns in the front, large windows, and lots of steep pitches to the roof.
I glanced down at my clothes again and sighed. Since I’d ventured straight from the jail, I was wearing the clothes I’d been arrested in during the sit-in protest—which were the same clothes I’d been wearing for the four dayspreviousmy arrest—a red t-shirt proclaiming “Vernal Pool Fairy Shrimp Have Rights Too” and black yoga pants. Which wouldn’t be so bad, if I hadn’t taken a glue gun and glued store-bought shrimp to the t-shirt. The shrimp may be long gone, but the foul odor was not.
Turning off the Beetle, I stared again at the beautiful Victorian in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t look like anyone was home. I had yet to meet Chase Cryer, but Lance had assured me I had a place to stay here. And if for some reason no one was home, there’d be an extra key above the front door.
It didn’t look like anyone was home. Nor did it look like Kat and Mimi were here, either. Luck was finally on my side.
Taking another gulp of fresh air, I made a mad dash for the front door. Standing on tiptoe, I reached up and ran my hands along the top edge of the door, praying the key would be there because I wanted nothing more than to run inside, strip, and shower.
“Can I help you?” a sexy male voice asked.
I let out a squeal. I hadn’t heard the front door open. Looking down through my suspended arms, I stared into dark, smoldering brown eyes. He stood in the doorway, his strong, muscular arms across his chest, and his amused eyes taking me in.
I carefully lowered my arms from over my head and dropped back down on my feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone was home.”
“So what, Goldilocks? You thought you’d just come on in and make yourself at home?”
“Of course not!”
He took a step back. “Good. Because there’s no way I’m letting you in here. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, darling, but you stink to high heaven.”
Tears filled my eyes, but I remembered what Judge had told me and lifted my chin. No way was I going to let him know I was intimidated and not feeling confident at the moment. I stuck out my hand. “Let’s start again. My name is Alexa Martin, and I think you should be expecting me tonight.”
The man frowned down at me, his arms still crossed over his chest. “Can’t say as I am. I’m expectingAlexMartin, a man.”
I bit my lip and slowly lowered my hand. “Well, I can assure you I’m a female.”
He gave me a slow sexy smile but didn’t say anything else.
“Lance has always called me Alex,” I said, “but I go by Alexa.”
“Obviously Thurgood left out that important fact. But then again, he’s a defense attorney. I guess I should have expected a bunch of lies.”
