Page 34 of A Cheesecake Christmas

“Well.” He sighs. “The Fleming case concerns me.”

The race of blood pumping in my ears matches the unease that rushes to my stomach, which isn’t anything new when it comes to thinking about Marty Fleming and his case. “How so?”

“I’ve looked over your hours. I’m surprised at the low number. And the court date is approaching.”

I could offer any excuse I can think of, and there are a few that pop up instantly. But I’m not interested in making my career by using excuses.

“You’re right. I apologize. I’ll make it right. I’ll ramp it up.”

“I’d appreciate that.” He frowns. “These pro bono cases are important, Theo. Fleming deserves every bit as much as we give our paying clientele.” His eyes soften and his shoulders round. “Look, I started my career doing this kind of defense work in Sacramento. Sometimes people just need someone to believe in them, you know?”

This is a side of Weatherby I’ve only seen when his grandkids come and visit the office, and he turns into a big marshmellowy teddy bear, carrying them around and giving them piggyback rides and letting them raid his candy drawer.

It’s great. But all the other times, he’s a hard hitter, which I’ve always thought is what makes him a good attorney. Now I’m not exactly sure I know what motivates him.

“I guess it’s difficult for me,” I say. “He’s guilty. He did take that money.”

The smile he gives me holds pity, like I’m a little slow to understand. “And he was putting it back. Which doesn’t make it okay. I know he needs to do some time. But this is a complex case.”

“Do you really believe him?” I scoff. “That he was putting it back when he got caught? I’m not so sure.”

“Doesn’t matter. Our job as his representation isn’t to decide that. It’s to present his case as he’s presented it to us, using our knowledge of the law to the best of our ability. That’s what—well, I was going to say that’s what he’s paying us for, but I guess he’s not paying us, is he?” He shakes with full-belly laughter.

Talking of payment makes me think of the Dahlen prenup and will amendments, and my blood gets pumping even more, salivating over this high-profile, high-income opportunity.

Not that I’m going to mention it. I’ve made it clear I want it, and Mrs. Dahlen has made it clear she wants me to represent her. I have to be patient with Weatherby until he’s ready to officially hand it over to me.

He unbuttons his sleeves and rolls them up to his elbows. He’s sensitive to heat, and I’m guessing my upstairs office is too warm for him. “How’s the festival?” he asks. “I trust you’re representing the firm well?”

There he is. The hard hitter has returned.

“Yes, I am. Have you seen the billboards and posters around town? My brother says they’re up even in Denver.” I smile as I think of Aria in that red velvet dress.

“I have. Not what I was thinking would happen when I handed it over to you, but this can be a good thing for all involved.”

I almost add that it’s one of the reasons I haven’t been doing enough on the Fleming case, but I check myself. Again, no excuses.

And plus, is that why? Or am I dragging my feet for other reasons? Reasons I can’t fully understand, but I know have to do with my family’s past.

Ding, ding, ding. That’s it, of course.

But I’ve got to step up and do this, if not for Fleming, for Weatherby, the firm, and my career as a whole.

That doesn’t mean I can’t run back over to Shorty’s and finish helping Aria first.

Chapter 14

Aria

With Theo’s help, I get everything from the truck into my new apartment in less than an hour, and I’m heading back to my parents’ house to get the rest. A smile tweaks the corners of my mouth as I remember how he looked on his balcony near mine.

Handsome. Charming. Happy.

No wonder the man has women eating out of the palm of his hand. I see the appeal of Theodore Vincent Carter.

Okay, okay, Universe. I get it.

But it comes down to this: he’s not the staying kind, and I don’t need all the fuss and craziness. Theo’s dramatic. I’m allergic to relational drama.

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