Page 33 of Holding Penalty

Nash pops a shoulder. “We’ll just have to have a long two-day engagement.”

Enough time to come to our senses. That’s probably a good thing. There are a million reasons I should say no to this ridiculous scheme, but my brain is too discombobulated by this entire day to hold onto any of them.

With just a couple days to think it over, I’d be able to put some sense into this shaken-up brain of mine and realize that getting my inheritance right away isn’t worth going through with something so crazy.

Maybe that’s the reason I answer, “Let’s try to get there before he leaves.”

The courthouse is practically a ghost town when we arrive. There’s a lone custodian down the hall, buffing the floors. All the clerks’ windows are closed except for one, the one for emergency filings.

We step up to it. There’s a woman behind it, with her head hunched over a book. She looks up when Nash’s broad frame towers over the counter. Her eyes go wide, and she lets out a happy gasp.

“Nash!” she yells. She hops off her stool and rushes out of view. Moments later, a door down the hall opens, and she runs to Nash, colliding with him and wrapping him in a crushing hug. The woman is about a third of Nash’s size, but Nash grunts like the strength of her embrace squeezes the wind out of him.

She steps back and looks up at him, her eyes beaming. “Why don’t you ever come to visit?” she chides.

I take a step to the side to get a look at Nash’s face. He’s blushing, crimson painted across his sharp, prickly cheeks. “Sorry, Sally. I’ll try to get in trouble more often so I have to be here.”

She looks at me for the first time, her smile turning quizzical. “Well, what brings ya’ll here today?”

“Do you know if Judge Tremont is here?”

The woman lets out a laugh that’s so infectious I can’t hold back my own smile. “In his office like he is every Saturday until about three in the afternoon. If I hadn’t seen how he and his wife look at each other when she comes to visit, I’d swear he’s here every Saturday to avoid her.” She shrugs. “Man just loves his work, I guess.”

“Thanks, Sally.”

She hooks an eyebrow at me before I turn around to follow Nash, but doesn’t comment on my unconventional choice of attire. I guess working at a courthouse, she’s seen stranger sights and learned not to ask questions.

“Don’t be a stranger, now!” she calls after Nash as he presses a button for the elevator.

“Who was that?” I ask when the elevator doors close us in.

“Sally,” he answers.

I roll my eyes. I’ve seen a side of Nash I never expected recently, but he’s still terse and dry as they come. “Wow, thanks for the extensive biography. I mean, who is she to you? Why did she look at you like you hung the moon? I’d ask if she’s your sister or something, but I don’t think anyone who grew up with you would feel so warmly.”

His brow lowers as his eyes slide to me at that remark. “Just someone I helped out a little bit. She blows it out of proportion.”

“Helped out? What’d you do, give her a kidney? Because she looked at you like she’d gladly give you hers.”

“Some people just like to overreact. Not something you’d be familiar with, I’m sure.”

I breathe a chuckle at his little jab, but I know he’s trying to deflect.

“Come on, give me the story. I’m too invested now.” I nudge him. “If you don’t tell me, I’m just going to assume you knocked her up and she’s happy about all the child support you pay her. And if we’re about to tie the knot, I think I should know if that’s the case.”

Nash grumbles while the elevator door opens and we step into the hallway.

“About a year back, I stopped to help when her car was on the side of the road because of a blown tire. I changed it for her, and looking into her car, I saw that she and her son were sleeping in it, because they had to get away from his piece of shit father, but they had nowhere to go. I made sure she got an apartment that day, and I used my connections with Judge Tremont to get her a job here.”

Nash pulls ahead of me, because I come to a stop. A couple paces in front of me, Nash turns around.

“You really did that?” I ask.

Nash’s face colors, and he tugs his gaze away from me, looking down at the marble floor bashfully. I’ve never seen Nash bashful before.

“It’s no big deal,” he says. “Anyone else would’ve done the same.”

A warm feeling wraps around my heart. “No, they wouldn’t. Not anyone.”