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СКАЧАТЬ wouldn’t have taken him for the cowboy sort but the look somehow worked.

      “I’ll do the community service,” he growled to his brother. “I’ve got no problem with that. Just not there. This is a damn setup, isn’t it? They got to you, didn’t they?”

      Andrew Caine looked slightly bored. “Who’s they?”

      “Charlotte and Smoke Gregory. Since the moment the two of them hooked up, they’ve been trying to drag me into this stupid Warrior’s Hope business. I won’t do it. Have the judge throw me in jail for contempt if you have to, but I’m not going out there.”

      “What’s the problem?” Genevieve asked. “I think it’s a fantastic deal! My father has been calling me all weekend to warn me I could be going to prison if I didn’t let him take over my defense. I’m really glad I didn’t listen to him.”

      “Thank you. It’s always nice to hear from a client who appreciates all my hard work.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      From what she understood, Andrew had worked some kind of attorney magic. They only had to plead guilty to misdemeanor assault and disturbing the peace charges and they would in turn be sentenced to a hundred hours of community service. If they were able to finish the hours before the New Year, their guilty pleas would be set aside and nothing would remain on their records.

      “I’m not doing it,” Dylan said, his jaw set.

      “Don’t be an asshat,” his brother said. “How hard can it be? It’s basically two weeks’ effort to keep from going to jail. Only an idiot would refuse a sweet deal like this.”

      “I don’t want to work at A Warrior’s Hope,” he said through clenched teeth. “Charlotte and Spence know that.”

      Genevieve didn’t know much about the organization, though she had heard it started up this summer while she had been in Paris.

      When she arrived at the airport before Thanksgiving, she had been surprised to find Charlotte Caine, Dylan’s once-fat sister, at the baggage claim along with the town’s disgraced hero, former baseball star Spencer Gregory, helping a guy in a wheelchair in a Navy cap pick up his luggage.

      She wasn’t sure what she found more stunning: how much weight Charlotte had lost or that she was apparently hooking up with Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory, at least judging by the way they held hands like a couple of teenagers at the movies and even shared a quick kiss in a quiet moment.

      Her parents had treated Charlotte and Spence with stiff politeness, not bothering to hide their disapproval. She thought it was because of Spence’s past but quickly found out otherwise. Spence had apparently been exonerated of all charges, something else she hadn’t heard about in Paris. Instead, her father had spent the first ten minutes in the backseat of the car service grousing about A Warrior’s Hope.

      From their complaints, she figured out Charlotte and Spence had started the organization to provide recreational therapy to wounded veterans. Her father seemed to think Harry Lange was crazy to condone and even encourage it, which was one of the few times she had ever heard William complain about Harry.

      She wasn’t necessarily looking forward to helping out with the charity but it beat multiple alternatives she could think of, not the least of which was scrubbing toilets at the visitors’ center.

      “You don’t have a lot of options here, Dylan,” Andrew Caine went on. “The assistant district attorneys are pushing hard for jail time, especially since this isn’t your first brush with the law in Hope’s Crossing. Because I happen to be damn good at my job, I was able to talk them down off the ledge. Wounded war hero, bad press, yadda yadda yadda. This is a good deal. As your attorney and as your big brother, I have to advise you to take it. Both of you. You would be stupid to walk away.”

      “I’m taking it,” Genevieve assured him quickly, before she could change her mind. Both of the Caine brothers shifted their gazes to her and she couldn’t help compare the two. Even though he had cleaned up, Dylan still looked dangerous and rough, probably because of the eye patch, while Andrew had an expensive haircut and wore a well-cut suit.

      He was just the kind of guy she should find attractive—well, except for the wedding ring, the reportedly happy marriage and the two kids.

      Somehow she found Dylan far more compelling, though she was quite sure all either Caine saw when they looked at her was a ditzy socialite.

      I know just what Genevieve Beaumont is—a stuck-up snob with more fashion sense than brains, who wouldn’t be caught dead in public with someone like me. Someone less than perfect.

      She pushed the memory away. “Do you, er, have any idea what kind of things we might be required to do?” she asked Andrew.

      She didn’t have a lot of experience with people with disabilities or, for that matter, with warriors of any sort. Unless one counted women fighting over the sales rack at her favorite department store in Paris, which she doubted anyone would.

      “You’ll have to work that out with Spence and his staff. From what I understand, they have another group arriving for a session in a few days, and because of the holidays, they are in need of volunteers.”

      “Sure. Why not,” Dylan said shortly. “Might as well waste the time and money of everybody in town.”

      “You might think it’s a waste of effort, but not everybody agrees with you,” Andrew answered. “Most people in Hope’s Crossing think it’s a great program. They are jumping at the chance to help make a difference in the lives of people who have sacrificed for the sake of their country.”

      The attorney’s voice had softened as he said the last part, Gen noted. He was watching his brother with an emotion that made her throat feel tight. Dylan looked down at the hand clenched on his leg.

      “I don’t claim to be as smart as you. I don’t have a couple fancy degrees hanging on my wall. But be honest, Andrew. Do you really think a week in the mountains can make any kind of difference for guys whose lives are ruined?”

      Was that how Dylan saw his own war injuries? Andrew’s jaw tightened, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

      “A hundred hours,” the attorney said instead. “You can finish that in a few weeks and put this whole thing behind you. Or,” he went on, “you can stand by your belief it’s a big waste of time and choose jail time instead. Before you do that, ask yourself if you really want to break Pop’s heart by spending the first Christmas in a decade when you haven’t been in the desert or the hospital, not with your family but in a jail cell.”

      For just a brief moment, she caught a tangle of emotions in Dylan’s expression before he turned stoic once more.

      “At least tell me the truth.” His voice was low, heated. “This was Charlotte’s idea, wasn’t it? She and Spence won’t back off. They’ve been riding me about this for weeks.”

      “Neither of them had anything to do with it,” Andrew assured him. “If you want the truth, Pop suggested it. When he mentioned it, I thought it was a good idea and brought it up with the D.A. They ran with it.”

      “Remind me to take you off my Christmas list for the next twenty years or so,” Dylan growled.

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