Page 95 of Crash Course
"I’ll text you the address. It’s about five miles from the office we looked at this morning."
She stood. "Okey-dokey. I’ll be there in fifteen."
"No problem. The realtor can’t get here. He’s gonna let me in remotely."
After touring an adorable Craftsman-style cottage,Cilla and Cruz stood on the curb while he took one last look. Then he turned to her, leveling those amazing eyes on her.
"What happened in court?"
Funny guy. "I have a million questions about this house, and you want to know about my day?"
"Yeah." He gestured to the house. "I don’t know. I mean, it’s a great house, but am I being hasty?"
Interesting. "I see. Who knew you were looking?"
He laughed. "I wasn’t. I was trying to avoid traffic and drove by it. Something drew me to it. That sounds weird, doesn’t it?"
"Not in the least."
Nodding, he peered back at the house. "I was thinking an investment property. I could rent it as a vacation home and then come and stay here when I want."
"Sounds like a solid investment."
Waving it off, he turned back to her. "We’ll talk about it later. What happened in court?"
She let out a soft groan. "I don’t know. Like I said, the judge rejected the deal and told us to try again. Did I mention the judge is my father’s golfing buddy? Never had an issue in his court before now."
She waited a beat, let that sink in. For both of them.Dammit, Dad.Another bout of soul-crushing agony stabbed at her.
Later. She’d deal with the emotional fallout later. For now, she’d focus on how to help her client.
"Is it a coincidence," Cruz said, "that we were poking around Morgan and now your father’s buddy screwed you?"
She reached up, pressed her finger against his nose. "Precisely. Technically, he screwed my client, but yes, I suspect my father called the judge. Worse, he showed up in court this morning to watch."
Cruz gawked, his mouth dropping open like something out of an old cartoon. Any other time, she’d find it funny.
"He all but admitted it," she said. "He’s punishing me for nosing around in his business."
"Wow. He is ruthless. His own daughter."
Yes. His own daughter. She shook her head, pulled her gaze from his because those eyes? Too beautiful. Too stormy. Too . . . everything. Cruz’s eyes made her want to curl into him, take comfort from a man when she’d always prided herself on not needing that.
But it would be so nice to just . . . have someone.
Her throat clogged. Ignoring it, she stared at the pretty cottage with its blazing white trim and blinked back tears. Crying? When’s the last time that happened?
Shoving that nastiness away, she looked back at Cruz. "My failing would be continually letting my father get away with his stunts and manipulations. I still do it. Like my office. Before I moved into his building, I knew he’d be barging in asking for legal advice. As if I’m his corporate in-house counsel, which by the way, he has. The guy’s office is right down the hall. But the people around him, me included, have been conditioned to give him what he wants. HeknowsI’ll eventually tell him what he wants to hear. That I’ll offer a way to bend, not break the law. And I despise that. I despise that he puts me in that position. It’s not right."
"Thus, the new office."
"It’s far enough where I’ll have distance. I think that’s what I need. Distance to figure out how to have my dad just be my dad and not drive me mad all the time."
"And if you can’t?"
"After he made my client collateral damage?" She shrugged. "I guess I can’t have him in my life."
Then he was on her, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. "You’re not the asshole here," he said, "he is. You know that, right? I mean, Brittney Tate has cancer. Probably from toxic sludge the former owner got from your father’s company. You’re not the asshole. You’re a strong, caring woman who thought you were helping him."
