Page 17 of Tessa's Trust

After a good night of sleep, I wore my dusty jeans down the stairs to Nick’s kitchen, touched that he had left a long-sleeve T-shirt with the JAG Corps logo outside my door. The well-worn and soft material hung to my thighs and smelled like laundry detergent with a hint of male. The shirt was too big, and I couldn’t explain it, but something girly in me rejoiced at the difference in our sizes. He made me feel feminine, and I liked that, although I had been truthful when I said we should just be friends.

“Morning,” I said, walking through the kitchen and stopping at the windows to gaze at the gorgeous view.

Wandering streaks of pink and gold meandered across the sky as the early sun glimmered off the ice-and-snow-covered lake. The ice appeared thick enough to walk across and perhaps fish, but I didn’t see any evidence of shacks out there. The clouds were already barreling in from the west, but for now, the silent world was beautiful in the morning light.

“Morning.” Nick pulled what looked like a casserole out of the oven, bright pink mitts on his hands.

“Cute,” I murmured, accepting the cup of coffee he nudged across the counter with an elbow.

“Thanks. They were my grandma’s.” He placed the steaming dish onto a wooden hot pad with a faded Italian flag decorating the center. “Full disclosure, she made the casserole, too.”

The concoction smelled delicious as cheese bubbled up through scrambled eggs. The moment was way too charming and intimate, and I had the urge to run back upstairs and grab my boots. Instead, I took a drink of the coffee and then sucked in a breath, turning my head to the side and coughing. “Oh, holy Mary,” I sputtered.

He winced. “Too strong?”

“Too strong?” My eyebrows hit my hairline. “This is motor oil, Nick.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry. He looked amused. I had to admit, a tousled-haired Basanelli looked good in a threadbare green shirt, faded jeans, and bare feet. Way too good.

I glanced at my watch. “Don’t you have to get to work?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I was going to change clothes after we had breakfast.”

That was sweet. This whole friend thing would be a lot easier if he didn’t look good enough to tackle to the floor and kiss. “I thought you were in trial this week.”

“I am. Today’s just prep. We have voir dire tomorrow.” He dished up two plates, and his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the face. “Oh, excuse me. I have to grab this.”

“No problem,” I said. “I’ll finish the rest.” I wandered around the counter and opened a few drawers before finding utensils.

A knock sounded on his door. He looked up and gestured with his chin toward it as he started rambling on about depositions and motions in limine.

I knew what a deposition was, but the limine thing was beyond me, so I just nodded and wandered over to open the door, where I stopped, shocked. I had to blink twice.

“Hi.” Jolene Sullivan took a step back, her wide blue gaze instantly turning calculating.

“Hi,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

Jolene Sullivan was a thorn in my family’s side. She’d slept with my sister Donna’s prom date back in high school. She’d dated Aiden Devlin, who was now living with Anna. While both of those situations were in the past, and I could easily forgive them since we had all grown up, she was now working as a reporter in town and seemed to have made it her life’s mission to go after Anna and attack her in the paper. In addition, Jolene had slept with my cousin Quint and used him to get more information on Anna in a move that was too recent to forgive.

So, I smiled. “Can I help you with something?”

Her gaze raked me from head to toe, taking in what was obviously Nick’s shirt and my messy hair. “It looks like you’ve been helped enough.”

It was bait, and I didn’t rise to it. Why in the world was the reporter on Nick’s front stoop? He wasn’t dumb enough to be dating her, was he? The woman would not go away. This morning, in the freezing cold, she wore green yoga pants and a loose shirt, and she had a massive blue mug in her hand.

I leaned over and peered into the empty cup. “Are you looking for loose change?”

She pushed past me into Nick’s apartment. “Hey, please tell me you have coffee.” She seemed more than comfortable wandering through his living room to the kitchen as if she’d been there before. Many times.

He finished his conversation and disconnected, turning to look at her. “Of course, I have coffee. I always have coffee.” He gestured toward a nearly full pot on the counter.

“Once again, you’re my hero.” She headed directly toward the coffee pot. “I’m out again.”

I looked from one to the other, curious.

“I live two condos down,” she answered, apparently noting my expression before pouring herself a full cup.

She took a deep gulp and smiled, pink filtering through her still-flawless skin. She was blond with pretty and rather sharp blue eyes, and I imagined that we might have been friends if she didn’t enjoy being such a complete violation of the sisterhood—or rather, my sister. Jolene definitely wanted to hurt Anna, which made me want to toss the reporter out on her ass.

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