Dylan by Linda Lael Miller

Author:Linda Lael Miller [Miller, Linda Lael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9780373773589
Google: stRk-laGguIC
Publisher: HQN
Published: 2009-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

AS IT TURNED OUT, filing the custody papers was sort of anticlimactic, as far as Dylan was concerned. Once it was done, bright and early the morning

after he and Kristy had made love, there was nothing to do but wait for the slow wheels of justice to grind into motion.

Dylan had met Logan in front of the tiny courthouse in Stil water Springs at 9:00 a.m. sharp, when the place opened, wearing his best jeans, polished

boots and a freshly purchased white shirt with the folds stil in it, only to find his big brother sporting a snazzy lawyer suit, dress shoes buffed to an intimidating shine and a tie.

Logan had read his expression, grinned and slapped his shoulder. “Relax, cowboy,” he’d said. “There’s no need to dress up.”

This is dressed up, Dylan had thought, panicked. What if the judge thought he was a slob, and couldn’t provide an orderly environment for Bonnie?

Except, they didn’t see the judge. They didn’t see anybody but Fred Bril , the bored and balding clerk who’d worked the front desk at the courthouse since Reagan’s first term in office, if not longer. Logan saw that the documents were stamped and shuttled into the system, such as it was, and that was it.

“Now what?” Dylan demanded, as they walked outside again, onto the tree-shaded sidewalk.

“Now, we wait,” Logan answered.

“Why’d you put on a suit, if you knew we didn’t have to go before a judge?” Dylan asked, resettling his hat.

“Sometimes,” Logan said, “I just like to look like a lawyer.” He indicated the Marigold Café, just down the street, with a nod of his head. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

Since practical y every parking space on Main Street was fil ed, an unusual phenomenon in Stil water Springs at any time of day, they left their separate trucks in the courthouse parking lot and walked to the Marigold. There were vans bearing the logos of several national networks, and the closer Dylan got to the front door of the restaurant, the less of an appetite he had.

“They’re here to get the story on Kristy’s dad,” he mused, worried.

“Yeah.” Logan nodded. “And the Clarkston girl. Damn. Who’d do a thing like that?” It was a rhetorical question, with no answer expected, so Dylan didn’t offer one.

He took hold of the door handle and pul ed. He’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, because things had ended badly with Kristy the

night before, after al that brain-bending sex, and because he kept imagining Sharlene and the current boyfriend zeroing in to grab Bonnie. The thought of a pack of newshounds baying at Kristy’s heels did nothing to improve his mood.

The café buzzed with chatter. Dylan and Logan got the last two seats in the place and ordered coffee. When it came, Dylan took a sip and almost spat it out—the stuff tasted like battery acid.

Logan didn’t seem to notice. He sipped away, scanning the crowd, taking people’s measure, in that way he had. “I imagine Kristy’s expecting a blitz, but it wouldn’t hurt to warn her, just the same.

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