The Defender's Duty. Shirlee McCoy

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СКАЧАТЬ his eyes winter-gray and filled with questions. “I guess you want me to believe that.”

      “Why wouldn’t you?”

      “Because you don’t seem very materialistic, and I have a feeling you would live in far worse conditions if it meant helping someone in need.”

      He was right.

      And that bothered Lacey.

      Jude had only met her a few hours ago and already knew more about her than most clients learned in a month. “Who says I’m not materialistic?”

      “Your car.” His gaze dropped to her faded sweater, but he had the good grace not to mention it.

      “Bess is an icon. I’d never replace her.”

      “Bess is a piece of junk that needs a new engine and a paint job.”

      He was right. Again. “There’s nothing wrong with having an old car.”

      “Not for someone who isn’t materialistic. Which brings me back to my main point. I don’t think you came here for the house.”

      Obviously, he was going to keep pushing until he got an answer he liked. There wasn’t one, so Lacey gave him what she could. “After I talked to my supervisor and your brother, I prayed about taking the job. It felt like the right thing to do, so I did.”

      “You prayed about it?”

      “Is there something wrong with that?”

      “Not at all. I just haven’t met many people who make decisions based on prayer.”

      “Maybe that’s why so many people are making so many bad decisions.”

      “You’ve got a point there. I know I’ve made a few in my life. Maybe if I’d stopped to pray about them, I wouldn’t have.” He smiled, releasing her hand as the waitress set coffee and plates of pumpkin bread on the table.

      “Soup is coming right out. You want to order now, or wait until I bring it?”

      “I’d like a grilled cheese sandwich.” Lacey handed the menu back to the waitress, the sleeve of her sweater riding up and revealing the pale white scars that encircled her wrist. She dropped her arm, shooting a glance in Jude’s direction. He seemed occupied with the slice of bread he was devouring. Good. The last thing she wanted were more questions.

      “Anything for you, Mr. Sinclair?”

      “No. Thanks, Jenna.”

      “You sure? We’ve got a great chicken pot pie today.”

      “Another time. Thanks, though.”

      “Suit yourself.” The young woman scribbled something on her order pad, her lips pressed tightly together. At Jenna’s age, Lacey had been working the same kind of job, and she remembered the nights when she’d calculated the tips and worried about whether or not she was going to earn enough to keep the lights turned on.

      “You know, I think I’ll take some of that chicken pot pie.”

      “So you want that instead of the grilled cheese?”

      “No. I’ll take both. Just box the pot pie so I can take it home for tomorrow. Can you throw in a couple more slices of the pumpkin bread while you’re at it?”

      “All right. It’ll be a few minutes. Just raise a hand if you need a refill on the coffee before then.” Jenna walked away, and Lacey grabbed three creamers and dumped them into her coffee.

      “You could have just left her a big tip.” Jude spoke quietly.

      “That would have been charity. I don’t think Jenna would have appreciated it.”

      “Good call. I tried to slip her an extra twenty one time, and she followed me outside to tell me what I could do with it.”

      “She did not.” But Lacey knew Jenna had. She would have done the same at that age.

      “She did. She informed me that there were a lot of people who were a lot worse off than she was and that I should take the money and give it to one of them.”

      “Did you?”

      “What do you think?”

      “I think you found another way to give it to her.”

      “I gave it to her boss and asked that it be added to her tips. I found it taped to my front door the next day.”

      “Good for Jenna.”

      “You think? The way I see it, pride goeth before a fall. Jenna may be on her way to falling hard.”

      “If she does, she’ll learn from it.”

      “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

      “Everyone falls sometimes, Jude.” Some people just fall harder than others.

      “Yeah. That’s something I’m learning.” He grabbed a second piece of pumpkin bread, and Lacey frowned.

      “Didn’t your mother teach you to share?”

      “She tried.” He grinned, split the piece and handed her half. “Happy now?”

      “I’d be happier if you’d given me the whole piece.”

      “Didn’t your mother teach you to share?”

      “My mother didn’t teach me much of anything.” The words slipped out before she thought them through, and Lacey wished them back immediately.

      “You know that comment begs me to ask a dozen questions, right?”

      “You can ask. That doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” She met Jude’s gaze, refusing to fidget beneath his scrutiny.

      “Understood. So I’ll go ahead and start asking. You don’t get along with your mom?” he asked, as Jenna set a plate of food and a brown paper bag in front of Lacey.

      “There you go,” Jenna said. “I’m off shift. If you need anything else, you’ll have to flag down one of the other waitresses.”

      “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Lacey dug through her wallet, pulling out her last two twenties. “You can ring up our tab before you go.”

      “I’ll have your change for you in a minute.”

      “Make it my change and keep it.” Jude nudged Lacey’s money aside and pressed several bills into Jenna’s hand.

      She thanked him and hurried away, leaving Lacey with her two twenties still waving in the breeze.

      “Here.” Lacey held out the money, frowning when Jude waved it away. “Take the money, Jude. I like to pay my own way.”

      “I’m sure you do, but we don’t СКАЧАТЬ