Bayou Born (Fleur de Lis Series) (22 page)

“Start at the very beginning and read this document. This is Contracts 101,” Uncle Peter instructed.

She glared at him, but did as told.

“Steven Sterling, Plaintiff, verses B. Noel MyLove, Defendant.” She stopped. “What in the world? I’m not a lawyer, but this can’t be proper form.”

“Darl’n,” Uncle Peter drawled, “I think the man is desperate. He wants your attention. This looks like a lawsuit. Served it like a lawsuit—well, maybe—and written like a lawsuit. But it’s not.”

“But...” she sputtered. Leaning forward she tossed the papers back on Uncle Peter’s desk.

He laughed.

Her father sighed, crossed one ankle over a knee, and sat back in his chair. “Peter, explain.”

“Uncle Peter, what can I do?” she interrupted. “I’m done with that man. I’m sick of the harassment. Jewelry, flowers, cards, phone calls, and now this! A fake lawsuit? Served where I work! Isn’t there a law against that? He’s invading my space. Ruining my life.”

Her uncle sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Branna, there’s no law against a man trying to win back the woman he loves. I can see how upsetting this is to you. I’ll give him a call and ask him politely to stop. How would that be?”

“Can I have him arrested?”

“How about we try it my way first?”

“Hmph. Charge your billable hours to him!”

That had ended Steven’s attempt at wearing her down. Until recently. She hated that she had let him upset her. She didn’t want another empty apology from him, then or now. She promised herself, after a month of crying every day over that man, she would never cry over any man again. So far, she’d kept that promise.

“Excuse me.” Sadie interrupted her thoughts. Standing in the doorway she said, “Lester will be waiting for you at your house at lunchtime.”

“Thanks very much, Sadie.”

“Good morning,” James said as he walked into view behind Sadie. “Will you need a ride to your house or do you have a rental?”

“What?”

“Do you need a ride home? At lunch today?” James spoke slowly, as though she might not understand English.

“Why would I need a ride?”

“Because your car got just towed from the student parking lot?”

“I thought my decal was good for any spot, except the ones reserved for Dr. Westcott and Dr. Brown. Someone towed my car?”

“Correct. You can park anywhere, but those two spots, and your car was towed. I thought you had mechanical problems or something, thought that was the reason for the tow truck.”

“I own a Volvo. I don’t have mechanical problems,” she insisted.

“Well, your car just got towed. I saw the tow truck pull out as I pulled in. No one else I know has a metallic blue Volvo with Mississippi tags.”

“Oh, yeah, got to change those...What was the name of the tow company? Where are they taking my car?” She rose. Was James joking around? Her car towed? No. It had to be there.

“I’ll call campus security to see if they know anything. Maybe security can stop them before they get past the front gates.” Sadie scurried to her desk.

James appeared deep in thought, as though he scanned his brain for data. “Best Boys,” he finally said.

Confused, she shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“The name of the tow company is Best Boys.”

She yelled, “Sadie, the tow company is Best Boys.” She dashed for the door. Her high heels slowed her pace when carpet transitioned to tile. Changing from a trot to a fast walk, she called over her shoulder to James, “Are you coming to help me or not?”

When she arrived at the spot where her car had sat, her feet ached from pounding the sidewalk in heels. Campus security officers blocked the entrance and exit of the student commuter parking lot. Red lights flashed. She scanned the parking lot.

No tow truck.

No Volvo.

But in the spot where she had parked the Volvo less than two hours ago, a new Mercedes sedan waited with a big, red bow on top.

“Ma’am, please stand back.” An officer—an older, heavyset man with white hair poking out from under his cap—hitched up the waist of his pants. “Is your name Ms. Lind?”

“Where’s my car?”

“Are you Ms. Lind?”

“Yes.”

“I found this addressed to you and taped to the door handle of this here new vehicle.” The stern looking man offered a red envelope.

She refused to touch it. Instead, she raised her hands to shade her eyes from the bright sun. “But my car? Where has Best Boys taken my car? And why?”

“I’ve been told your fiancé authorized it.” The disapproval that etched the man’s face said he had better things to do with his time.

“Officer...” She looked for his nametag. “Officer Hutton, I don’t have a fiancé.” She flashed the back of her ring-less left hand and wiggled her fingers as evidence.

“What?” Shock registered on the man’s face.

“Ms. Lind says she’s not engaged. With whom did you speak to about her car?” James asked as he drew closer. A few students gathered in the parking lot appeared to be straining to hear the conversation.

“A man called, said he was Ms. Lind’s fiancé. He arranged for a tow truck to deliver her new car. He said it was an engagement gift, and that he had arranged to have her old car picked up.”

“And you let him?” she cried.

“Calm down, Branna. I talked to the dispatcher at Best Boys. Your Volvo is waiting in your driveway.”

“Oh great! Now it will end up with paint on it!”

James’ furrowed brow told her he didn’t understand.

“A painter is there today, painting the exterior of my house.” She turned to face the older man. “Officer Hutton, you’ve been had. I don’t have a fiancé. And if my Volvo has paint on it when I get home, you’re going to need to arrest me for killing Steven Sterling!”

“Yeah, that was his name. Mr. Sterling. Said he wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise me? I’m going to surprise the hell out of him!” She reached in her pants pockets. No cell phone. It was in her purse, in her desk drawer. She couldn’t call Steven or Best Boys or even Bill to ask that he tarp the car to protect it. She couldn’t leave work to chase down the tow truck. She’d have to wait until lunch...then she had to meet the plumber.

Nauseous, she laid her hands over her stomach. Never in her life had she experienced so much chaos in such a short time. If only she could crawl back into bed and start the day over.

If only.

“Hey! I gotta go to work. Are the cop cars gonna move?” A student shouted from the sidelines of the gathering crowd.

Officer Hutton waved to the second officer at the end of the parking lot, who hopped into his car and drove away, lights no longer flashing. Then, Hutton laid the red envelope on the trunk of the Mercedes. “Take this. It’s yours.”

He walked to his patrol car, grumbling about something and never looked back. The only word she understood—”Women!”

Storming over to the car, she yanked up the red envelope, scrunching it in her fist. There was more than a note inside. She felt a key. She headed toward her office leaving James in the parking lot. “I’m going to show all you men what kind of woman I am.”

Chapter 23

As she pulled her purse from her desk drawer, someone in the doorway cleared their throat. Branna looked up. James leaned casually against the door jam, but his furrowed brow and frown looked anything but relaxed.

“You’re really taking that present home. Interesting. It’s none of my business. I just didn’t think you were one of those women.”

She wanted to scream that he was wrong, she wasn’t
that
type—the kind to accept expensive presents from a man she abhorred, but since she wasn’t the “screaming type,” she picked up the keys from her desk hoping to convey an air of calm control. James backed out of the office as she approached the doorway. Too angry to speak, she wore her poker face, the one she’d perfected that showed no hurt or pain, the one she owed to Steven.

James puzzled her. Away from work he was fun and engaging. Yet, for such a smart guy, he lived in a world of absolutes, little room for shades of gray. She could understand if he was one way or the other. The duality left her confused.

Until her split with Steven, rules ruled her life. Only recently, since her break with family tradition had she discovered how colorful life could be when one colored outside the lines. James would have to discover that on his own. No books...or woman could teach him that lesson.

“Sadie, I’ll be back. Going to meet the plumber,” she called out as she left the office tugging securely on the purse strap hanging over her shoulder.

James’ words ran through her brain, up and back, like a pianist practicing a musical scale. She’d refused his offer of a ride, choosing to take the Mercedes—her choice was not to inconvenience him. Not be a burden. His response hit her like a punch.

“It’s none of my business. I just didn’t take you for being one of “those” women.”

His tone rubbed her wrong.

Judgmental.

Opinionated.

Dismissive.

What she hated was the fact that in the green polo shirt that hugged his chest so well, his eyes looked a deeper brown. The timbre of his voice vibrated in her gut. He was way too sexy for his own good. That’s what she hated.

“He’s right! It’s none of his damn business,” she gritted out, then tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “A car is just a car. Just transportation. And mine’s been hijacked by a manipulating jerk. Steven Sterling, you’re vile.”

Turning the corner on to her street, she spotted a plumber’s truck parked by the curb. She pulled the Mercedes in front of it and sighed with relief at the sight of her Volvo. The tow-truck driver had unloaded it in the drive, but close to the street, far enough away to avoid any painting mishaps. Now all she had to do was show the plumber inside, store the Mercedes in the garage—until she figured out what to do with it—and make it back in time for her next class.

She parked and climbed out of the car. Maybe the plumber would ratchet up her low opinion of men. The male species had three strikes for today—the painter, the ex-fiancé, and the college professor.

“You’d be Miss Lind?” A man approached, carrying a battered toolbox. His shirt showed a white embroidered “Sullivan’s Plumbing” insignia.

“Yes. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“I heard your house might be flooded.”

“Not exactly. That’s what I’m hoping to avoid. I turned off the water before it made
too
much of a mess.” Had Sadie exaggerated the circumstances to get her brother-in-law to drop everything to make this appointment? “I’ll show you.”

She stood outside the bathroom door and let the plumber enter.

“Ah.” He nodded. “You need to replace the faucet. I can remove this one. In order for you to use the sink, you’ll need to provide a new one for me to install. I don’t carry that kind of stuff on my truck.”

“Oh. Hadn’t thought of that.”

“This job won’t take long, but...”

“You need the new faucet.”

The man grinned. “Sadie said you were smart.”

“And I thought I left household repairs behind in Mississippi. Fleur de Lis was always in need of something,” she muttered under her breath. Then, brightening she asked, “If I pick up a new one after school, when would you come back and fix this?”

“I’ll be here before you leave for work in the morning.”

“That’s a plan. Thanks for your help.”

The man let himself out while she rushed to her bedroom for a dry bra. Then she searched her closet for a blouse. In the past, any public embarrassment would’ve put her over the edge. Too much had happened in such a short time. That left no opportunity for a mental flogging about her impropriety. After all, it wasn’t like she could hide from her students. She had to roll with the scene. She conducted herself professionally, and since she acted as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, most of her students took the cue. If she ever looked backed on today, surely she would laugh. Surely.

Crystal deserved a reward for her quick thinking. A gift card in the pocket? Branna planned for it when she returned the jacket to the student tomorrow.

Heading back to campus, she patted the top of the dash of her Volvo. “I won’t part with you. You’ve been steady and reliable. Never left me stranded. You’ve listened to me complain. Never judged or offered unsolicited advice.”

She turned on classical music and watched her speed. “But what do I do about that silver
thing
in the garage?”

The corner of the red envelop that the security officer left for her peeked out from her purse. Red made her think of red eyes and all the tears she’d shed after she discovered Steven’s betrayal. Knowing him, he considered the red envelop to be a romantic gesture. But red matched the color of blood, and it was the color of a matador’s cape used to piss-off a bull. At the moment, she’d match her anger with any angry bovine. The note said that the car was intended as a wedding present, however, he hoped she’d accept it now—as a re-engagement present.

“Not before he crawls over glass on his hands and knees down Main Street!”

And then...

Not even then.

But she had to find a way to deal with the deeper pain injected into her family. The ragged rip in their lives left by Camilla. She had to call her sister. Camilla had to know that she had forgiven her.