The Texan's Surprise Son

Her boss’s number appeared on the phone’s display.

“Hi, Saul.”

“We have a new client I want you to meet with tomorrow. 8:00 a.m. sharp.”

It was just like him to get straight to the point. No greeting. No apologies for interrupting her scheduled day off. No inquiry as to how was she doing.

“Okay.” She dug in her purse for the notebook she always kept there and a pen. “Shoot.”

He recited a name, an address, cross streets and a phone number. “It’s not far from your house.”

Mariana didn’t tell him she wasn’t staying at her home these days. “Is she expecting me?”

“She can’t wait to meet you.”

Another client. With their cases making the news on a regular basis, people Molinas had scammed were crawling out of the woodwork.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll check in with you when I get there.”

Without so much as a simple “Thanks” or “Enjoy the rest of your day,” Saul said goodbye and hung up.

She sighed. Her boss might not be the friendly, chatty type, but he had taught her a lot since she’d started working at Hasbrough and Colletti three years ago, and—this counted for a lot—he supported her bid for junior partner.

“Let me wash the dishes,” she announced upon entering the dining area, only to come to a grinding halt, her breath trapped in her lungs.

Jacob sat with Cody on his lap. The instant her nephew spotted her, he erupted in a piercing wail.

She covered the distance in the span of a single heartbeat. “What happened?”

“He fell.”

“How?”

“He tripped on the chair leg.”

“You were supposed to be watching him.” She reached for Cody, who held out his arms to her.

“I was. I watched him trip.”

“Men,” she huffed, cradling Cody’s head and bouncing him on her hip.

“He’s fine. Buster broke his fall. If anyone’s hurt, it’s him.” Jacob stroked the dog’s head. “I only looked away for a second.”

She cut him some slack. Cody could move quickly. “It happens. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Cody abruptly let out a second wail and attempted to hurl himself from Mariana’s grasp.

“What’s wrong?” She glanced about and spotted the cause of his distress. “Buster has his truck.”

The dog, oblivious to the drama surrounding him, had picked up the plastic dump truck and was carrying it away. Probably to his toy basket in the family room.

“Buster.” That was all Jacob said. The dog turned immediately around. “Sit,” he commanded and held his open palm beneath the dog’s mouth. “Leave it.”

The undamaged toy fell into Jacob’s hand.

“Good boy.” He rewarded the dog with another petting.

Cody squealed with delight, fighting harder than before to get down.

Mariana deposited him on the floor, and he scurried over to Buster.

“Again,” the boy demanded, all smiles.

So much for worrying about his precious toy.

“You try.” Jacob gave the truck to Cody, who shoved it at Buster’s mouth. “Easy now,” Jacob coaxed. Once Buster had the toy, Jacob told Cody, “Say, leave it.”

“Weave it,” Cody commanded and broke into giggles when Buster obediently relinquished the toy.

Okay, another crisis averted, Mariana thought. And Jacob had somewhat redeemed himself. But what would he do when Buster wasn’t around?

They wound up washing the dishes together. Another surreal experience. The last man Mariana had performed domestic chores with was her boyfriend. Her long-ago boyfriend.

Deprivation. That must explain her interest in Jacob. She refused to use the words attraction or fascination.

“What time are you getting up in the morning?” she asked, carting another stack of dishes from the table to the sink. She’d deposited Cody in front of the TV and put his favorite “learning animal names” DVD in the player to watch.

“Five.”

“That’s early. I thought the rodeo was in Allen.” A ninety-minute drive at most.

“I have chores to do first, then I’m meeting Daniel at the Roughneck.”

“Good luck.”

“I’ll leave some coffee in the pot.”

He smiled, and her heart did that silly little lurch again. She waited until she could trust her voice. “I have an eight o’clock appointment myself. Cody and I will be out of here by seven.”

“I’ll give you a spare house key and the code for the alarm system.”

“Thanks.” She’d thought about a key but hadn’t felt comfortable asking.

“Was that a work call you got earlier? I wasn’t being nosy,” he added quickly. “More curious. What do you do at Hasbrough and Colletti?” Rinsing coffee mugs beneath the running faucet, he loaded them into the dishwasher. “Bail celebrities out of trouble?”

His last remark was delivered with a chuckle, so she didn’t take offense. Not that she would. Any number of celebrities, politicians and prominent local citizens had programmed Hasbrough and Colletti’s number into their phone’s speed dial. Without question, they were the top fix-it law firm in the Dallas area, if not the state.

When a starlet was busted on her second DUI, Hasbrough and Colletti hurriedly had her admitted into an ultra-private rehab facility, then kept her face out of the papers as much as possible. When a congressman was caught red-handed texting explicit messages and selfies to a woman not his wife, they suppressed the scandal, wrote carefully worded press releases and repaired his flailing career.