Page 103 of Tides That Bind

“You’re not tired?”

I flick my eyes up at her. “A little. But I prefer working at night. I need the quiet. And I’m sorry. I know you hate the mess.” I motion at the table.

“Are you?”

“No, not really. There’s a method to my madness.” I reach for the silver package and tear it open, pulling out one pastry. Even though Harper said she didn’t want one, I break it in half and give her the biggest piece.

She steps over to the living room and pulls out a coaster for her mug, leaving it on the small table by the club chair before returning and taking the Pop-Tart. If she wanted it warmed up, we don’t need a toaster. Because after her finger brushes mine I’m heating right up.

“Is there?”

The table is covered in a collage of scattered papers, books tabbed with sticky notes, and an array of pens and highlighters.

“Not really.”

I try to ignore Harper’s lips and the way her tongue breaks through to clear a cluster of gooey crumbs from them. “You have some…” I point so she can clear it even though it’s me who wants to wipe her mouth clean.

Harper shifts through a stack of books as she quietly chews, lifting one before crossing the room.

Don’t look, don’t look, I lecture myself, but fuck me, I stare at her ass so hard I’m surprised she can’t feel it.

She turns, sitting on the couch with the book laying open in her lap. “Replevin?”

“I need to review it again. That’s our whole case.”

She lifts her eyes from the page and looks at me, appearing confused.

I stuff the rest of the Pop-Tart into my mouth and grab a pen, spinning it in my fingers.

“What we’re going to ask the judge is for an emergency writ of seizure.”

Harper shakes her head, clearly confused, and I realize given that she’s myclientI should probably take some time to walk her through everything. Slowly.

“Based on Nate’s contract, Tides is property.”

“Okay.”

“Now, there’s a little gray area here, because he becomes Nate’s property upon retirement if he’s between eight and eleven, which he is. But that’s only if he’s never worked with another handler.”

Harper sighs. “He has. When Nate had surgery.”

“Right. The sheriff’s department didn’t do anything wrong by taking him back into custody. They aren’t violating anything. But there is legal precedent for taking into consideration the dog’s welfare—"

“Tides’s feelings?”

I nod. “Yes. Tides’s feelings.”

I redirect and point at the book in her lap. “This is the cliff notes version, but that—replevin--gives you the right to reclaim your personal property that was wrongfully taken. We can easily prove there’s grounds to consider Tides part of Nate’s estate, which means he’ll go to you. And if we couple that with consideration of his welfare, it gives us a strong case.”

I think it does, at least, but I swallow any and all doubt because I don’t want Harper to think I’m a complete idiot.

I clear my throat. “I’ve got a good handle on the case law, but there’s still a lot of legal jargon I have to review.”

Review might be pushing it. If I’m being honest, I basically need tore-learnit. I hold out my hand, motioning for the book.

Harper makes no effort to move from the couch and return the book. She presses her hands to the pages, smoothing them out from the spine.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her honey-brown eyes rounding, almost like she’s afraid of my answer.

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