Page 15 of One Night Collision

"It's not that I don't want to," she says, her voice small. "God knows I do. But I've made that mistake before—jumping in headfirst without thinking things through."

I nod, ignoring the protest from every cell in my body. "With Calvin?"

The name sits heavy between us, and she sighs, moving off my lap to sit beside me. "With Calvin, with others after him. I keep thinking I know better, and then..."

"And then you get hurt," I finish for her.

She nods, pulling her cover-up back over her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on."

"Hey." I turn her face toward mine gently. "You have nothing to apologize for. We have time, Maggie. All the time in the world."

Relief floods her features, along with something else—gratitude, maybe, or affection. She leans in and kisses me softly, a kiss that feels like a promise.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"For what? Being a decent human being?" I chuckle, though there's no real humor in it. "The bar's not exactly high if that's all it takes to impress you."

She shakes her head. "For seeing me. For not just seeing what you want to see."

That hits me harder than I expect. I pull her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and she nestles against my side like she belongs there. Maybe she does.

"Do you want to go?" I ask, though I'm hoping like hell she says no.

"I'd like to stay for a little bit," she says softly. "If that's okay."

It's more than okay. We end up watching some mindless reality show, her head on my chest, my fingers playing with her hair. Eventually, her breathing evens out, and I carry her to my bedroom, careful not to wake her. I remove my shirt but keep my shorts on, sliding under the covers beside her. She immediately curls into me, seeking warmth, and I pull her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

Sleep finds me easier than it has in years.

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The courtroom is stuffy and overcrowded, the air conditioner struggling against the heat of bodies and hot air. I adjust my tie, wishing I were anywhere else but here. Judge Harmon is taking her sweet time reviewing the documents before her, and my client fidgets nervously beside me.

"Relax," I mutter. "You've got this in the bag."

And they do. The evidence is solid, the precedent clear. It's just a matter of going through the motions now. I scan the roomout of habit, noting faces, gauging reactions. That's when I see him.

Calvin Farnsworth. Maggie's ex-husband.

He's sitting three rows back on the opposite side, dressed in a suit that's a little too tight across the shoulders, his expression smug as our eyes meet. I keep my face neutral, but inwardly, I'm calculating. What's he doing here? He has no business in this courtroom unless?—

My thoughts are interrupted as Judge Harmon calls the court to order. The proceedings start, and I force myself to focus, though I can feel Calvin's eyes on me throughout.

After court adjourns and my client shakes my hand, practically weeping with relief, I gather my papers, taking my time. Sure enough, Calvin approaches as the courtroom empties.

“Sizemore," he says, as if we're old friends. "Quite the performance today."

This. Fucker.

I zip my briefcase closed before looking up at him. "Sizemore. Didn't know you had any interest in contract disputes. Didn't realize we had the same type of interests either."

He smirks, leaning against the table. "Oh, we have common interests in all sorts of things. Including, apparently, the same women."

My jaw tightens, but I keep my expression neutral. "Is there something you wanted to say to me?"

"Just that I find it interesting, you taking up with Maggie." He adjusts his cufflinks, a gesture that reminds me of every entitled asshole I've ever met. "Didn't peg you as the type to go for damaged goods."

My blood boils, but I've been in too many courtrooms to lose my cool now. "Funny, that's exactly how she described you. Though she used words like 'insecure' and 'controlling' instead."

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