Hardass (Bad Bitch)(14)
The silence stretched out between us as we waited, and waited, and then waited some more. I wanted to play on my phone or start a conversation, but I’d be damned if I was going to crack and say another word to him. And I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting on me for playing Candy Crush instead of remaining stone-faced like him.
It took a full forty-five minutes before the door opened and Matt walked in. He had a disc and a manila folder under one arm.
“Sorry to run late, Wash. Just had trouble getting this CD made, is all.” He dropped the items on the table and winked at me. His sandy blond hair was cropped short, and he had brown eyes a couple of shades lighter than my own. A handsome man, though nothing even close to Mr. Granade in the looks department.
“Funny how every time I come here like this, you’re late.” Mr. Granade still leaned against the wall, but he was no longer relaxed.
“You mad?” Matt grinned.
“No. Worse.” Mr. Granade stood straight and squared his shoulders. He had more than a few inches on Matt. “I’m inconvenienced. Some of us have to actually work for our clients, not twiddle our thumbs at our desks on the State’s dime.”
“I’ll keep that in mind the next time one of your dirtbag clients makes a mess I have to clean up on the State’s dime.”
I’m sure my gaze went back and forth as if they were playing a tennis match. I wanted Mr. Granade to win, but it would be more than a little interesting if the two of them got into a tussle, on the floor . . . over me.
“You lose your manners on the trip over here, Wash?” Matt turned to me and offered his hand. “Who’s this?”
I shook his hand and returned his stare.
“That’s my associate.”
“I gathered that.” Matt pulled out the chair across from me and sat. “What’s your name?”
“Caroline Montreat.” I could feel Mr. Granade’s gaze lasering into the side of my head.
“I’m Matt Turnbull. Nice to meet you. When did you graduate law school? You look mighty young.”
“Last year.”
He slid his gaze down my body, lingering at the neckline of my red blouse beneath my suit jacket. “Young. I like it.”
“Matt, that’s enough.” Mr. Granade loomed over him.
“I was just making her acquaintance, is all. Same way you made Fawn’s.” Matt leaned back and smiled like the cat who got the canary.
“How is your wife, by the way, Matt?”
“She’s fine.” He drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes still on me. “Still mine. Thanks for asking.”
What had I just walked into? Matt’s gaze slid south again, and I fidgeted in my chair.
Mr. Granade picked up the manila file folder and the CD. “This everything?”
“Everything I’m required to give you, yes it is.”
“I have your word?”
“That’s all I got except for the stuff locked away at the sheriff’s office. You can go fetch that yourself, can’t you? How about you just walk the block over there and I’ll keep Caroline company while you’re gone. Show her how a real lawyer does business.” He smiled. I wanted to wipe the look right off his face with the bottom of my shoe.
Mr. Granade came around the table and offered me his hand. “Come on, Ms. Montreat. Time to go.”
I took it and rose, feeling more awkward than anything else.
“Sure you don’t want to stay here, Caroline?”
I knew I wasn’t supposed to talk. I knew it. I did it anyway. “And learn how to creep on younger associates? No thanks. I can get that lesson better elsewhere.”
Matt whistled. “You got a hot one there, Wash. Better watch out.”
“Keep running your mouth like you always do. Doesn’t make any difference to me. I’m still going to wipe the floor with you like I always do.” Mr. Granade opened the door for me, and I gave an acid look to Matt as I walked out.
“Not this time, Wash. Your guy is as dirty as they come, and I’m going to make sure he gets the death penalty.”
“Sure, Matt. Sure. Say hi to Fawn for me, would you?”
“Don’t even say her name, Wash.” Matt followed us into the hall.
Carla looked at us over the ledge of the reception desk, her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline.
“I don’t even have to say hers. I’m sure she says mine every night.” Mr. Granade pushed the door open for me, Matt hot on our heels.
“Don’t you fucking talk about my wife!” His yell reverberated around the reception area.
“Have a nice day, Matt. Thanks for the docs.” Mr. Granade kept his hand at my back as I tried to walk as quickly as possible to the car.