CHAPTER FORTY-THREE Tate

"You cannot defend that boy from Half Moon, Tate," Browning Senior stated. "Junior already represents the wife of the victim. She's suing the accused."

"Suing him for what? The accused is worth fuck-all. He hasn't even been charged with anything," I stated, perhaps too angrily. I turned to Alec. "What a coincidence you're attaching yourself to the widow, Alec."

"She called me," he replied, smirking like the rat he was. "Besides, Tate, representing the kid you're fucking? Come on. Really?"

I glared at Alec, but what did I expect? The man was a tool of the first order. "Just to be clear, I don't have a physical relationship with the defendant. And it was the accused who called me! And he called me first, I might add, and before your ambulance-chasing ass got ahold of the wife," I added.

"But I already have a signed agreement, Tate. What do you have besides a broken heart?" Alec asked.

I turned to Senior. "Are we representing the wife of the victim or the possible defendant?"

Senior looked like there were a thousand other places he'd rather be. I'd first spoken to him personally less than a week ago, so it was difficult to read Alec's father. In that fruitful meeting, he made me a full partner in less than three months of being there, doubled my salary, and asked me to consider leading his firm in the future.

"I'd rather not be involved in any of this shit, to tell you the truth," he declared. "But the only client that'll be paying me is the dead man's wife. I assume the boy has no money, correct?"

"You're correct, no one on the ranch is allowed money besides the deceased, but that isn't entirely why we practice law, is it?" I appealed, ignoring the creep sitting to my right.

Senior leveled his eyes at me. "That is precisely why we practice law, son. I didn't get rich giving our services away for free."

"Why can't we take on pro-bono cases occasionally?" I asked. "Earn some goodwill in the community."

"Fuck that!" Alec interjected. "That's a big hell-to-the-fucking no," he added.

"Sorry, Tate, but I have to side with Junior on this one," Senior said. "Let the boy go. Time to move on from this one."

Alec stood, nodding aggressively in agreement. "He killed a man, Tate. Even you don't want to be with a man like that, do you?"

I jumped out of my chair, turning to Alec so he could see my face directly. "You, Junior, are a lousy example of a man," I began. "I'll take an accused murderer over you every goddamned day of the week." I began leaving the office before remembering a suspicion I had about Alec. "I think you know, Alec, that we wouldn't be here today had you not contacted the victim and told him Luke was violating community rules. Isn't that right?"

"You're imagining things," he spat.

"Just like I imagined your police buddy pulling me over for what should have been a reckless driving charge, and then letting me go scot-free, only to remind me how lucky I am that I have contacts in high places?" I angrily asked. "That sort of imagining?"

"You're high, Tate," he barked, waving a dismissive hand at me.

"I wish I was high," I said. "Then it wouldn't bother me to be quitting this job." I faced Senior. "I'm done, sir. Thank you for the opportunity and the huge upgrade in position, but a future here means a future with this waste of a human being, so no thanks."

"Don't be foolish, Tate. The kid is a Moonie, for fuck's sake," Alec snarled.

"Maybe, Alec, but he'll be a Moonie with the best counsel available in this fucking town."

My parking garage was basically empty at home. I'd quit my job at noon and was home a half hour later, while the rest of my complex appeared to still be at their jobs. Jobs that paid the bills. Jobs that kept a roof over their heads.

"What are you doing, Tate?" I asked, glancing at the rearview mirror. I let out a long sigh and gripped the steering wheel, relaxing my head against the headrest.

Luke was upstairs where he'd been for nearly a week, sleeping in the guest room, and wearing the same gym shorts I'd loaned him the last time he was here, the only pair that fit his incredible body. Every night found me miserable in my bed while my heart longed to admit how I felt about him.

The two of us had developed a bit of a routine. I worked all day while he stayed home. I'd come home to an immaculately clean loft, dinner on the table, and the sweetest man I'd ever met. He was kind, considerate, responsible, and his being in my loft drove me crazy with sexual want. The worst part? He kept a polite distance at all times.

Whatever flame we'd had prior to the event was extinguished now. We sat across from one another at the dinner table, feet apart on the sofa when relaxing or doing something he'd never done like watch TV, and we slept separately. I didn't truly want the bullshit excuse of a client relationship I'd mentioned, but apparently he did.

I steeled my nerves, got out of the car, and headed to the elevators so I could endure the agony one more night. Standing outside my loft's front door, I took a deep breath, plastered a smile on my face, and opened the door.

The door opened to find a nearly naked Luke opening drawers in the kitchen. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and was bare-chested. I've never prayed more for a towel to drop, even when Carter Harris, the quarterback from high school, teased he would drop his in the locker room after a football game senior year.

Luke jumped upright when the door opened, bashfully grabbing the towel and securing it. My eyes scanned his torso, stirring the sexual interest overloading my self-control. Looking at him never got old. Luke possessed an innocence, and a sexual five-alarm fire, all at once.

I was reminded of the first time I'd seen him in the bakery. My antennae were on full alert then, like it was now, with the contradiction he offered. Luke looked like an angel who had a dirty secret to share, while not being aware of what that secret actually was.

"Do you have thread and a needle?" he asked, blushing like a boy who was caught sneaking a cookie. "I sort of ripped the gym shorts you let me wear," he confessed.

"Sort of?" I asked, laughing and falling in love for the millionth time that week. "How does one, sort of, rip stretchy shorts?" I teased.

"Squatting to clean the shower tiles," he answered. "Maybe my butt was too big?"

At that moment, I wanted to jump on him and grab that big butt of his and beg him to fuck me on the kitchen island. I fantasized about how I'd hold it tightly and pull him into me as he invaded my asshole with his thick cock.

But that wasn't what I did."Bottom drawer with the tools," I said, coming to his side.

Luke smelled like Ivory soap, obviously freshly showered before I got home. This time my horny mind imagined me yanking his towel off and dropping to my knees, taking his schlong down my throat and milking him completely dry. His muscled thighs would bulge under my hands as he fought the need to unload deep into my hungry throat.

But that wasn't what I did."There it is," he said, in his sweet, boyish voice, another thing belying his brute strength and sex-on-a-stick looks. "I'll patch ‘em right up. They'll be good as new."

I grabbed his biceps as he walked past me. His biceps were massive, and the texture of his skin was smooth and silky. The veins in his arms were like a relief map of Africa, with great rivers flowing the length of each arm. I thought of him holding me down, forcing me to give myself over to his power as he manipulated my body to where he wanted so he could make love to me for hours and hours, both of us sweaty and panting like dogs.

But that wasn't what I did."You need clothes, Luke. Let me buy you a few items," I asked, a third time mentioning his lack of adequate clothing.

"What I have is just fine, Tate," he replied, still resistant as ever. "I wash what I have every day, and I don't need more. You do too much for me as it is."

"How'd your job interview go today?" I asked, leading him in a direction that I hoped would assist him in understanding why he needed more clothes.

Luke had gone out every single day since I'd taken him in less than a week ago. Walking miles in the heat as he sought a way to repay me for letting him stay with me.

"They all said no again," he answered, looking away and swallowing his disappointment. "I tell them I'm a really hard worker, but they always say they're not hiring. Two even had help wanted signs in their doors."

"I'm sorry, Luke," I soothed. His sadness broke my heart into a million pieces, and I hated the world we lived in sometimes. "Hey, look at me for a second." He lifted his head. "You'll find work. I promise." He twisted away from me, doing his best to not get sucked into my kindness, but I kept my grip on his bulging biceps. "Hey," I whispered. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but do you think your style of dress hinders you from getting hired?"

"Probably," he muttered. "I know what they're thinking when I walk in."

"They're ignorant people, Luke. Those people don't know how hard of a worker you are. You'll have to prove it to them," I stated. "But, in my opinion, if you didn't dress like you did all those years at the ranch, you might make a better first impression, and here again, it's because they don't know what a wonderful person you are."

"But I can't pay you back as it is?" he said softly. "A bed to sleep in, food, and now you want to buy me new clothes? Not to mention you helping me with the jail stuff."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help myself," I said. "I care about you, and I want the best for you."

His eyes welled up, his lower lip trembling. I was almost certain there were words Luke wanted to say, feelings he needed to express. How'd I know that? Because I was internalizing my wants and desires as well. Like me, I think he questioned why the brakes had been deployed in our burgeoning relationship. Of course, I didn't know all that for a fact, but I had a hunch.

"How about we go to Portland for a couple of days?" I asked. "We can leave tomorrow morning."

"What about your work?"

"As funny as this is going to sound after our talk about you finding a job, I'm going to need one myself, so why don't we block all that from our minds and have some fun? Whattaya say?"

"You're not a lawyer anymore?" he asked, worry ruining his perfect face.

"Oh, don't you worry about that. I will always be a lawyer. Just not where I was."

The relief on his face warmed my insides. "I've never been out of Jefferson County," he said.

As sad as that sounded, I chuckled. "So, is that a yes?"

"That's a yes," he agreed.

"Excellent. What's for dinner?"

We broke out in laughter at my quip; him grabbing my hand for just a second before releasing it just as quickly. Baby steps, Tate.

For someone who ate at a communal hall for all his meals, Luke had a talent for cooking. I didn't ask him how he learned because why say anything except thank you?

For the first night since we met, Luke and I let down a wall or two and simply enjoyed each other's company, blocking out life's reality on the other side of those walls. We stood side by side and did the dinner dishes together, even though he protested it was his job.

I found another pair of shorts that left nothing to the imagination in the fit department, but I kept my eyes to myself. And even though there was a foot of space between us on the sofa, we laughed our asses off, watching The Simpsons.

I was in love with Luke. I couldn't deny what I was feeling. Was he in the middle of a shit mess of problems? Yeah, he was, but I planned on fighting for his life. I had a vested interest in Luke being a free man.