Page 132 of The Way We Score

I’ve just finished washing my face and getting ready for bed when my phone lights up with a text.

Mason

Warner took the papers and said he’d file them himself. Then he fired his lawyer, who didn’t follow up.

I’m so sorry, Liv. I should have double checked everything. We can request a default judgment. You’ve been separated a year, but you’ll need to come to Birmingham.

Exhaling heavily, I walk across the hall to Garrett’s bedroom, where he meets me at the door wearing flannel pants and no shirt.

He lifts my chin. “What’s that face about?”

“Mason says we can get a default judgment, but I need to go to Birmingham to appear before the judge.” Looking down, I slide my hand over my stomach, dreading a three-hour road trip followed by hours in court.

“Is that the only way?” He leads me to the bed, turning back the covers.

“Short of Warner signing the papers.” I arrange the pillows so my back is elevated, which is the most comfortable way to sleep right now. “He fired his lawyer.”

“Does Mason have the papers?”

Frowning, I shift onto my side. “What are you thinking?”

“Ask him to fax them to you at the restaurant tomorrow. There’s a notary on staff at the clerk of court’s office. I’ll pick her up, and Zane and I will pay a visit to Mr. Oberon.”

“Garrett…” My chest tightens, and as much as I want this, I don’t want him getting in trouble. “This is my mess. I should handle it.”

Reaching up, he slides his thumb along the line of my hair. “You’ve wanted a partner for a long time.” Blue eyes meet mine. “Now you have one.”

“Yes, but…”

“You’ve got your hands full here, growing our little lady, taking care of yourself. Let me take care of this.”

“I don’t want this to hurt you.” My eyes flicker down, and I trace my finger along the line of his chest. “You’ve had such a great two weeks. I want you to have your time, and something like this could ruin it.”

“Nothing will be ruined.” Reaching forward, he scoots me around so my back is tucked against his chest. Large hands slide over my baby bump. “It’ll be a friendly visit. We’ll benice.”

“Nice?” My eyebrow arches as I thread my fingers over his. “Who are you? Dalton?”

He exhales a chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of my shoulder. “I thought you slept throughRoad House.”

“I fell asleep that one time inRoad House. It was hardly my first viewing.”

“We’ll be nice until it’s time to not be nice. Now get some rest.”

30

Garrett

It’s a forty-five-minute drive to the small barrier island situated in the waterway between the Alabama and Florida state lines. Rhonda Peachtree rides in the backseat of my truck and Zane is up front.

When we reach the guard shack at the base of the tall bridge leading from the main road to the island, I flash my badge, and the guy waves us through the gates with only a glance.

“That’s an animal control badge, right?” Zane huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m not the sheriff yet.”

“Animal control officers aren’t law enforcement, but they work under state and local government,” Rhonda calls cheerily from the backseat.

“Right here, Rhonda.” I hold my fist up, and she bumps it.

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