Page 41 of Lone Star Country Protector
“Good to know,” he said, remembering she’d had her coffee in hand when he joined her in the kitchen. “What about breakfast? Should we run through a drive-through?”
“I can grab a couple of protein bars at my house,” she offered.
He got it. She didn’t want to risk being stuck in a line if Johnny Spear caught up to them. Innocent people could get hurt, not to mention both of them shot. “Sounds like a plan.” His coffee had kicked in, clearing the cobwebs. Though, he had the ability to snap into action on fifteen minutes of sleep and no caffeine if needed. His sister teased him about it being his superpower.
The situation with his grandparents got him thinking about family a whole lot. And about whether he wanted to stay on the job or not.
“Did you ever want to be anything else besides a judge?” he asked Blakely.
“Not really,” she said. “Not seriously or when I was old enough to know the variety of jobs out there. I went through the usual I-want-to-be-a-veterinarian stage that most animal lovers go through when they’re young. What about you?”
“I’ve been thinking about that question since the accident,” he admitted. Dalton hadn’t spoken to anyone about a pull toward changing professions. Not even his family. “I loved the parts of my childhood that allowed me to run free on the land. The ranch is a special place.”
“Have you spoken to the others about what it might look like if your grandparents have a long recovery?” she asked. He appreciated the fact she hadn’t said “when they die.” He couldn’t bring himself to believe they wouldn’t pull through this, even though time was running out and they weren’t making meaningful progress.
“No,” he said. “But I’ve been thinking that conversation is probably overdue. After this assignment, it’s my turn and then my brother Camden’s. I’m not sure how long we can keep rotating like this. Plus, decisions are going to have tobe made about the horses. It keeps the person who is holding vigil at the hospital busy since much of the work can be done via laptop until it’s time to arrange a pickup.”
“Growing up on a horse ranch sounds like the coolest childhood ever,” Blakely said with appreciation in her voice.
“It’s not for everyone, but it was special to me,” he admitted.
“Would you consider going back and taking over for your grandparents full-time?” she asked.
“It was never even a thought until recently,” he said as he entered her neighborhood. “Now? I guess I’m considering all options.”
“Would you regret leaving your job?”
“How will I know if I don’t try it?” he asked before turning the tables. “Would you ever consider doing anything else for a living?”
“Never say never,” Blakely said. “But, I’ve been so busy making my mark that I haven’t taken the time to consider any other path. I’m proud of the work that I’ve done and how far I’ve come.” She shrugged as they pulled up in front of her home where a squad car waited. “And I know that I don’t want to be on the other side of the bench as a litigator. So what else would I do?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe work as a victim’s advocate. I could see you doing something like that.” His tactic to keep her talking worked. She’d relaxed enough to stop working her fingers into a knot. That was progress.
“Guess I never thought about it,” she said. “Once I decided on law, I gave myself no other options because that was the only way to succeed in getting through law school.”
A uniformed officer exited his vehicle to walk to the truck, as Dalton did the same before rounding the front to open Blakely’s door.
He surveyed the area and then tucked Blakely behind him.
After perfunctory greetings, the officer followed closely behind as they essentially formed a shield around Blakely.
She was in and out of the house in less than ten minutes. It had to be some kind of record for getting ready, and she shouldn’t look this good without making much effort. Though, Dalton wouldn’t complain.
Thick hair in a slicked-back ponytail, she looked every bit the serious judge. Except Dalton had never seen a judge as beautiful.
They made it to the truck without incident, thanked the officer and then doubled back toward the courthouse.
Once settled and out of her neighborhood, Blakely pulled a couple of power bars out of her handbag, as promised, and handed one over.
Dalton polished his off in a matter of four bites. Blakely ate hers slowly, staring out the window as she chewed on every bite.
“You might be right about becoming a victim’s advocate,” she said once she’d finished hers. Next, she pulled out a pair of bottled waters. “Thirsty?”
“What else do you have in there? A breakfast taco?” he teased.
Blakely’s serious expression broke, and she smiled. “I threw everything in here but the kitchen sink.”
“Oh, darn,” he teased. “How will I wash my hands without a sink?”
