Courting Trouble Read Free

SUV remained glued to Cade’s tail.
    “Are you kidding?” Cade mumbled. He pulled to a stop in front of the courthouse and across from his office. He rolled down his window. This had to be a joke.
    Already scribbling on his ticket pad, Wayne approached. “Morning, Cade,” Wayne said. “License and registration.”
    “What exactly did I do?” Cade bit out. “And second, you know exactly who I am.”
    “First, you ran that stop sign at Second and Main—”
    “Ran the stop sign! Are you blind? I stopped. Not only did I stop, I came to a complete stop. What’s the problem, Wayne—”
    “—and second,” Wayne continued, undeterred, “I need your license and registration.” He set his lips in a grim line to emphasize his command, yet his eyes twinkled with a mischief that indicated this traffic stop might be the high point of his day. “Please.”
    Locked in a stare-down with Wayne, Cade finally broke his gaze and leaned across the seat. There was no way of talking Wayne out of this ticket. He opened the truck dash and dug through unused fast-food napkins, sugar packets, and receipts. Beneath a plastic fork his hand finally landed on the truck’s registration. He handed the paper to Wayne without a glance. Cade slid his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out his license.
    Wayne’s eyes drifted from the registration to Cade’s license, now clipped to the top of his ticket pad. “This is from New York.”
    “That’s where I live.”
    Wayne’s eyes traveled upward and met Cade’s squinted eyes, hot with irritation, “Live? Or lived? You’ve been in Powder Springs for nearly a year.”
    “Against my better judgment, yes. Yes, I have.” Cade drew a deep breath and willed the tension that gripped his shoulder blades to release. “And your point?”
    “You have six months once you move to change your license. That’s another ticket.”
    The muscle tightness gripped harder and sent a hot jet of pain from Cade’s shoulders down his spine.
    “If you bring in your Colorado license to your court date, the judge will dismiss the ticket.”
    Cade held his breath, his eyes settled on Wayne as he continued to write out tickets. Cade fought back his desire to reach out the truck window and strangle Wayne. He’d forgotten to change his license, or perhaps he’d hoped there would be no need—that he would in fact return to New York.
    “Looks like your New York license is expired.”
    “Three’s the charm.” Cade held out his hand for his paper bouquet. Not only did he have a mountain of legal work on his desk at the law firm but he’d also acquired his own legal mess. Cade started to stuff the tickets into the truck dash on top of the plastic fork.
    “You’ll need to get your things and step out of the truck.”
    A jolt of surprise barreled through Cade’s chest. He whipped his head around to face Wayne. “You want to frisk me?”
    “You can’t drive.” Wayne pulled open Cade’s door. “Give me your keys.”
    “Who says I can’t drive? These,” Cade said, shaking the tickets still clamped in his fist, “are the first tickets I’ve gotten in fifteen years.”
    “Your license isn’t valid.”
    The temporary gratification Cade might feel at slugging Wayne was outweighed by the inconvenience of spending an entire day in jail. He grabbed his briefcase and stepped out of his truck before handing Wayne his keys.
    “Go get your license, then come by the jail and I’ll give you your keys.” A hint of remorse reverberated in Wayne’s thick voice, although the corners of his mouth turned up with a barely contained smile that seemed to say ‘gotcha.’
    “I’m supposed to meet with a client in forty-five minutes.”
    “Then you might want to hustle up.” Wayne lumbered toward his SUV. “DMV opens in ten minutes.”
    Cade’s entire morning had just become one big hassle.
    “This is how you treat your brother?” Cade yelled.
    “Half brother,” Wayne called. “Just think what I’d do