Page 9

NETTIE SAT AT her desk, staring at the stack of papers representing her current caseload, but her mind raced. She couldn’t believe that she had offered to meet with Ash McNabb. This was unexpected and yet oddly compelling. After all, he didn’t belong here. The attorney representing his brother should be the one handling such matters.

Her thoughts spiraled back to the implications of this meeting. Why would Ash even consider jeopardizing his brother’s case by personally discussing things with her? It was a gamble that made little sense in her mind, yet it piqued her curiosity.

Nettie glanced at the clock, reminding herself that this meeting needed efficiency. At least it happened in her office, where she felt a sense of control. She resolved to keep it brief and strictly professional, but the undercurrent of personal stake was impossible to ignore. She contemplated having Joann sit in on the meeting to ensure she maintained professionalism. Joann’s reassuring presence might help keep the conversation on track and minimize further emotional undertones that could complicate matters.

With a deep breath, Nettie prepared herself for the complex dynamics of this unexpected encounter with Ash McNabb, an encounter that—something told her—could change everything.

Nettie startled as the sharp knock on the door pierced the quiet of her office. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and replied with an outward calm that belied her internal turmoil. “Yes,” she said, her voice measured and professional, masking the frantic thoughts swirling in her mind.

A sheriff’s deputy casually pushed his head through the doorway, his presence commanding yet familiar. “Ash McNabb, Miss Broussard,” he stated.

Nettie recalled the strenuous negotiations she had had with Sheriff Necaise. They agreed she could continue her work, but only with a dedicated personnel protection detail. This measure now felt painfully necessary after the recent attack on her.

“Let him in,” she instructed, as her hands fumbled with the papers across her desk, a futile attempt to convey busyness as a means of deflection.

She didn’t look up immediately, but her senses prickled with awareness as his quiet presence filled the room. The air felt different, charged with unspoken energy. When she finally caught a glimpse of him—solid, slacks-clad thighs moving confidently toward her desk—she looked up, and her breath caught in her throat. Her mind raced, confronting a flurry of emotions. Why did he have to be so good-looking? It felt almost unfair.

“Miss Broussard,” he said in a professional and coolly detached tone as if they were strangers—not the kind of tension that had crackled between them before.

She gestured for him to sit across from her, her thoughts a tangled web of strategies to involve her paralegal in the upcoming discussion. “Let me call in my paralegal, Mr. McNabb.”

He sat fluidly, crossing one sculpted leg over the other as if the motion was as natural as breathing, yet she noticed the slight wince when he did so. “Casper, please,” he said smoothly. “And there’s no need for a paralegal.” His words lingered in the air, resonating with a confidence that intrigued and unsettled her.

It suddenly became clear that the stakes of their conversation had just changed in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

Hesitant about whether to meet him alone or include Joann, she took a moment to reflect, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination swirl within her. After a brief pause, she resolved to proceed with the meeting. Still, she kept the option of calling Joann open should she feel the need for professional support or her sense of security in the delicate situation.

Rearranging herself in the chair, she consciously mirrored his relaxed shoulder posture, attempting to create a sense of calm and professionalism. “What can I do for you, Mr. McNabb?” she asked. Although she was aware that he preferred to be called Casper, she felt it imperative to maintain the formal tone required by the circumstances of their meeting.

Casper narrowed his eyes at her in a way that made her stomach churn slightly, but she pushed aside the discomfort it invoked. This was a professional setting, and she wouldn’t let her personal feelings cloud her judgment.

“I want to discuss my brother’s case,” he stated, low and urgent, as though the matter were paramount.

She shook her head firmly, her expression resolute. “This is highly unethical, Mr. McNabb. I should be meeting with Mr. Jacobs, not the defendant’s brother. This conversation crosses a line that cannot be ignored.”

Casper wiped a hand across his face. He deliberately uncrossed his leg, leaned forward, and placed his elbows on his thighs, drawing her attention completely. “Okay, let’s discuss when we first met,” he proposed.

Taken aback by his sudden shift in focus, she shook her head with a hint of disbelief. “I’m sorry, but my personal life is not up for discussion,” she retorted, her tone firm, hoping to draw a line.

He quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as if considering her response carefully. “So, no business and no personal. Why did you agree to see me then?” His question hung in the air, a weave of curiosity intertwined with an unmistakable challenge.

That was an excellent question that had been lingering unaddressed. “Well,” she replied, picking up a sleek pen from her desk, letting its weight rest in her palm as she twirled it nervously. “I guess because your actions earlier today could have saved my life.” The admission slipped out with unexpected honesty.

His grin widened, transforming his previously severe features into something softer, almost boyish. Seeing it sent an involuntary flutter through her stomach, catching her off guard. “Well then,” he said in a slight Southern drawl, his voice low and playful. “I’m glad to be of service. Sounds like you owe me.”

Her mind raced at the implications of his words. “What do you mean?” she stumbled out, her grip tightening around the pen, which had come to a standstill, mirroring the sudden tension in her chest.

“I saved your life, so you owe me a favor, and I’m calling it in.” His eyes gleamed with mischief, leaving her both intrigued and apprehensive about what he might ask of her next.

“I’m not discussing your brother’s case,” she reiterated, a hint of frustration lacing her tone, hoping desperately that she had understood his question correctly.

“Hear me out,” he insisted.

“Go ahead,” she said, bracing herself, fully aware she would regret this momentary lapse in judgment within a few seconds. Yet, she acknowledged that she had to listen. It was the right thing to do.

“I know my brother’s case doesn’t look good on the surface, but if you could work with us on finding a way for him to get rehabilitation instead of prison time, I’d sincerely appreciate it. Consider it a gesture of goodwill, a returned favor for your saved life.” His eyes searched hers, revealing the weight of his plea, the desperation echoing in his voice.

She lifted her hand slowly, signaling for silence. “That’s enough, Mr. McNabb. I can’t discuss this further,” she asserted.

He settled back in his chair, his gaze fixed intently on her. The way he watched her made her skin prickle, as though she were exposed, laid bare before him. An electrifying sensation sent a jolt through her, making her acutely aware of every detail—his piercing eyes, the slight smirk at the corner of his mouth. She felt overwhelmed, unable to process her thoughts, pushing them aside for the moment.

“Well, what can we discuss then?” he queried, his brow arching playfully, curiosity dancing in his expression.

Nettie swallowed hard, clearing her throat as she regained her composure. She tried to shake off the butterflies that fluttered chaotically in her stomach at the sight of him, particularly the tousled blond hair that tempted her to reach out and straighten. “There’s really nothing except,” she began, her voice momentarily wavering, “my gratitude. Thank you again for saving my life.”

Her words hung between them, heavy with meaning yet filled with an unexpressed tension hinting at uncharted emotions lingering beneath the surface.

He resumed discussing the case as if she hadn’t uttered a word. “My brother isn’t the best of people. I get that,” he admitted, a hint of resignation in his voice. “And I understand that what he did warrants some justice. But I genuinely believe that what he needs most is rehabilitation. No one should have to be confined in a cell just for indulging in reckless behavior and acting foolishly.”

The thought nagged at her mind, memories flooding back of how her parents’ murderer had managed to escape proper accountability by merely attending a rehabilitation program. She straightened her back, determination brewing within her. “Is that genuinely how you see the situation?” she confronted him.

Casper shrugged, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s my brother, after all. It’s how I must cope with this reality.”

Nettie sat quietly in her office, contemplating the weight of the familial stigma surrounding criminal behavior. She understood the emotional turmoil family members might endure, knowing that their loved one could be perceived as a felon. Her thoughts fixed on Aaron—though he had not yet faced trial—she couldn’t shake the possibility that he could have been responsible for the tragic demise of the couple in the other car. As Casper had described them, his reckless behavior and foolish choices created an aura of danger that Nettie couldn’t ignore.

With resolve, she rose from her chair, signaling the end of their meeting. “Mr. McNabb,” she began, “I’m sorry, but I believe it’s time for us to conclude our discussion. I have court in just a few minutes and must finalize my paperwork.”

To her dismay, he remained seated, his expression unreadable. Just when the tension peaked, Nettie caught a break. Her paralegal knocked and poked her head through the door, her presence a much-needed interruption. “You’re due in court in five, Miss Broussard,” she informed, glancing at the man in the room.

Nettie nodded appreciatively at Joann. “Thank you. Mr. McNabb was just leaving.”

However, the atmosphere shifted as Casper cocked his head, a stubborn glint in his eyes. “I can wait,” he replied defiantly.

Joann sensed the underlying tension and leaned closer. “Should I send in a deputy?” she asked, concerned.

Nettie raised her hand to stop Joann. “That won’t be necessary. Just give me a minute.” Once Joann exited, leaving the door slightly ajar, Nettie directed her full attention back to Casper.

“Mr. McNabb,” she reiterated, her tone sharpening, “as I mentioned earlier, your presence here is highly unethical. If you refuse to leave voluntarily, I’ll have to instruct the deputies outside my office to escort you out of the building.”

Casper held her gaze and then slowly stood, a grin creeping onto his face. “Then, let’s have dinner to discuss the matter more thoroughly.”