Page 32 of Just Trouble

Willow meanwhile is filling in Cameron, the two of them leaning over her phone as she shows Cameron who she means.

“Luke Jones?TheLuke Jones?” Cameron stares at me. “He’s here and he came to see you?”

“Yes.” I nod as if it’s no big deal. “You want to open the wine?”

Cameron will not be distracted, even though she’s twisting the cap off the Italian red. “The Luke Jones who has vanished from the world stage without a trace—” she blows at her fingertips “—is here, in backwater Empire, and he came to visit you?” I nod again, because it’s true. If I try to evade the truth, Willow will provide it. Cameron’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

“He has this plan. He wants to make things right.” I frown. “I agreed to help because I thought it might bring Abbie back to town. By the time I figured out that wasn’t going to happen, I was angry enough to help make his plan happen, despite his father’s garbage.”

There is a beat of silence while they stare at me, Cameron with an olive between finger and thumb, almost in her mouth, and Willow’s eyes wide. They’ve both heard that my version is heavily edited and I wonder which of them will call me on it. Cameron definitely will, but Willow might be faster this time.

“Is that supposed to make sense?” Cameron asks.

I sigh and perch on the edge of the couch. “We should wait for Mackenzie, so I don’t have to repeat it all.” They nod reluctant agreement. “He needed a lawyer and I won the lottery.”

“Not a lot of candidates in town,” Willow says.

“And my dad is on retainer for Cavendish Enterprises.”

Willow’s eyes round. “This is about family matters?”

“Forget that. Let’s talk about the important stuff,” Cameron says. “Tell me you’re not doing him,” she entreats me, clearly hoping I’ll say otherwise.

“I’m not doing him,” I say.

“I mean, tell me the truth about whether you’re doing him.”

“I did.”

They exchange a pitying glance. “Maybe you should rethink that plan,” Cameron says under her breath and Willow nods agreement. “He came to seeyou, here in Empire.”

“He needed a lawyer.”

“And there are none of those between wherever he was and here.” Cameron tosses back a measure of wine, her gaze unswerving. “You must know him. He came looking for you.”

“Details have been withheld,” Willow says in an undertone.

“Critical details,” Cameron agrees. “We need the entire backstory and we need it now.”

Mackenzie knocks at the door, saving me from the Inquisition. She looks harried and a little less composed than usual. I take her coat. “Screw Patrick Cavendish,” she says by way of greeting and there’s a universal cheer of agreement.

“You first,” I say and she laughs.

“Daphne is going to be too busy doing his son,” Willow provides, her manner innocent when I glare at her.

“No?” Mackenzie says in a whisper that is part horror and part delight.

Willow nods and offers dip.

“Wait!” Cameron demands, the one who is not from town. “Luke Jones is the son of Patrick Cavendish?”

We nod in unison.

“But why is his name Jones?”

“Wrong side of the sheets,” Willow says. How she manages to say something like that looking both wise and innocent at the same time is beyond me.

Cameron chews another olive. “Patrick Cavendish is the one who owns everything, right?”

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