Page 75 of Attraction & Repulsion

“Caddel & Madden. Do you know about them?”

“No, but there are a ton of firms in the Phoenix area . . .” Her voice trailed off as a shorter man with a mustache walked through the entrance. He looked an awful lot like Tim, Jax’s old captain. She cleared her throat. “How do you like Arizona so far?”

“The Phoenix area reminds me of California, but here”—Will’s eyes darted once again around the saloon—“is nothing like L.A.”

“It’s definitely a unique place,” she agreed.

The song booming in the air switched from a new, upbeat tune to an old classic. Around them there were grunts of approval as the twang of Toby Keith floated about the bar.

“What about you? Did you ever become junior partner?”

Sagging into her chair, Carson chewed on her lip before speaking. “Not yet, but I’m doing a mentorship with my boss.” Her finger touched thedroplet of condensation on her glass before it could reach the tabletop.

“You don’t seem too excited about that.”

“I am,” she said, tossing her hair behind her shoulder. “It wasn’t what I’d originally planned.” More like the last five years hadn’t been what she’d planned. “I’m not complaining, though. My boss could have turned me down. He has me working on a family law case, which I’ve never done before.”

“Family law is rough,” Will said, shuddering. “ I’d rather stick with criminal.”

Carson thought about how awful Jax’s divorce case with Kristen had been for him. In fact, when she eventually opened her own practice, she was seriously considering focusing only on family law. Because, who else would fight for people like Jax in the courtroom?

“I actually have my first trial in two weeks,” she informed him.

“Wow. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” She’d take all the luck she could get, though she was confident she was going to do well. Even her client, Jacob, was looking forward to the trial.

The song ended with a few plucks of a banjo, followed by a commotion on the stage in the far back. A live band had just finished setting up, and they began strumming guitars and pounding on a drum kit. Carson could feel the beat reverberate in her bones. More people congregated toward the middle of the saloon to dance.

“Please tell me they’re going to line dance,” Will prayed, eyeing the crowd excitedly.

“Would you expect anything less?” Carson asked, amused at Will’s reaction to the saloon’s atmosphere.

Sure enough, like a well-choreographed performance, men and womenlined up and started to kick their boot-covered feet in rhythm, thumbs hooked in their belt loops and all. For a second, Carson thought Will was going to get up and join them.

“How’s your boyfriend doing?” Will asked, tapping his finger to the beat of the music.

Choking on a sip of soda, the carbonation burning her nostrils, Carson coughed and cleared her throat, trying to regain control.

“Sorry, he’s, uh, he’s doing well. Just got a promotion at work,” she finally shouted back, the live music banging around them. Perfect answer. Perfect recovery. She didn’t have to confirm or deny if they were still dating, and she didn’t have to fib. It was a win-win.

“What does he do?”

“He’s a firefighter for the City of Prescott.” Speaking of firefighters, there was a group of guys playing darts all wearing the Prescott’s fire department emblem on the back of their shirts.

Will tapped a finger against his glass, pulling his attention away from the dancers to her. “So, he’s buff,” he joked.

She let out a laugh, and Will grinned, flashing his perfectly straight and very white teeth. But Carson’s laughter stopped when she spotted someone walking through the front entrance. They locked eyes. The lights stopped flashing. The music died on the last note. Finally, it was quiet.

Jax looked at Will—who was still smiling at her—and back to Carson. His face wore shock, then a flash of anger, and finally disappointment. He pivoted and left.

Like a tidal wave, the next song blasted from the speakers, the lights continued to race across the room, and the conversations and dancing went on.

Carson tumbled off the stool, nearly knocking it over.

“Can you give me a minute? I’ll be right back,” she stammered, not bothering to wait for Will’s response. Though she doubted he cared because he was still fixated on the line-dancers. She darted between the patrons and flew through the front doors.

Once outside, she spun, her eyes scanning every face, every person she could see. The dark of the night making it difficult. Finally, she spotted a familiar sweatshirt, familiar because she had worn it before, and took off running, grateful the sidewalks were clear of ice.

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