American attorney who would soon be flying out of his life.
***
“I like that golf has a dress code,” Julie informed Black Douglas as he watched her braid her hair. Douglas had chosen to remain on the bed, the same bed he’d shared with Julie for most of the night.
“The courtroom has a dress code, too,” Julie said, “though not everybody observes it. Judges wear exactly what you have on.”
Unrelieved black and an inscrutable look, though some lady judges wore a white lace collar too.
Douglas popped off the bed, stropped himself against Julie’s chinos once, then went strutting on his way, tail held high. Julie made the bed—Julie had been the bed maker in her marriage—and was debating whether to switch her phone off when it rang.
Not Derek.
“Julie here.”
“I trust you slept well?”
Niall, his voice a touch deeper, maybe for not yet having had coffee. Perhaps he was running late, but the driving range wasn’t going anywhere and the morning was sunny.
“I did sleep well. Douglas did too. I’ll be ready in five minutes,” Julie said. She had to start over on her hair, because for golf, she wore it French-braided into a chignon, the same as she did for the courtroom.
“I’ve run into a bit of a problem,” Niall said. “Jeannie called, and she’s been asked to interview for a job on short notice. She’s quite particular about who watches the baby, and nobody else is available.”
Julie dropped to the bed. “You’re standing me up for a baby, Niall? Have you ever changed a poopy diaper?”
His silence was interesting. “It can’t be very complicated.”
Neither was a bad marriage.
“I’ll come with you,” Julie said. “We can hit the driving range when Jeannie’s finished her interview. When the baby naps, you can lecture me about golf.”
“I could ask Donald—”
“And leave that helpless infant to your clumsy efforts with a diaper pin? Cromarty, accept help when you need it. I won’t tell Donald you’re afraid of the diaper pail.”
“I’m not—”
Julie would rather change dirty dipes with Niall than hit the driving range with Uncle Donald. Perhaps that realization was dawning on Niall.
“We can discuss Scottish land records,” Niall said. “Declan’s granny figured prominently in my nightmares.”
Julie stuffed her golf shoes in her black bag, slipped into a pair of slides, and grabbed a sweater from the closet. “Meet you out front in five, dude. Bring your clubs.”
Chapter Four
----
“I have lost my heart to a blue-eyed charmer named Henry,” Julie said, lifting the fat, smiling baby up above her head and adding to Niall’s increasing store of available nightmares.
“If you drop that baby, Julie Leonard, I shall kill you, even if you are a lawyer, and Jeannie will kill me. Then the authorities will come after her, and the child will be left to the dubious mercies of my family for the balance of his upbringing.”
Niall had meant the warning half in jest. It hadn’t come out that way. Damn Declan’s granny for putting him off stride.
Julie lowered Henry and snuggled him against her shoulder. “This is your first solo with this baby?”
“Yes, and it will be my last if any harm comes to that child. Jeannie said he goes down for his nap around ten-thirty and it’s nearly eleven. Shouldn’t he be tiring?”
“We’re new people,” Julie said, patting the baby’s back. “New people always interest a happy baby. You talk golf and I’ll cuddle with my squeeze. You can put us both to sleep.”
She took the rocking chair while the grin Henry aimed at Niall was positively gloating. Put her to sleep, indeed.
Niall stretched out on the couch, a hopeless indignity because the couch in Jeannie’s rental was about two feet too short.
“What golfing topic would you like me to address?” he asked, wedging a pillow behind his head.
“When did you decide to focus on golf professionally?”
A prosecutor’s question, but also the
***
“I like that golf has a dress code,” Julie informed Black Douglas as he watched her braid her hair. Douglas had chosen to remain on the bed, the same bed he’d shared with Julie for most of the night.
“The courtroom has a dress code, too,” Julie said, “though not everybody observes it. Judges wear exactly what you have on.”
Unrelieved black and an inscrutable look, though some lady judges wore a white lace collar too.
Douglas popped off the bed, stropped himself against Julie’s chinos once, then went strutting on his way, tail held high. Julie made the bed—Julie had been the bed maker in her marriage—and was debating whether to switch her phone off when it rang.
Not Derek.
“Julie here.”
“I trust you slept well?”
Niall, his voice a touch deeper, maybe for not yet having had coffee. Perhaps he was running late, but the driving range wasn’t going anywhere and the morning was sunny.
“I did sleep well. Douglas did too. I’ll be ready in five minutes,” Julie said. She had to start over on her hair, because for golf, she wore it French-braided into a chignon, the same as she did for the courtroom.
“I’ve run into a bit of a problem,” Niall said. “Jeannie called, and she’s been asked to interview for a job on short notice. She’s quite particular about who watches the baby, and nobody else is available.”
Julie dropped to the bed. “You’re standing me up for a baby, Niall? Have you ever changed a poopy diaper?”
His silence was interesting. “It can’t be very complicated.”
Neither was a bad marriage.
“I’ll come with you,” Julie said. “We can hit the driving range when Jeannie’s finished her interview. When the baby naps, you can lecture me about golf.”
“I could ask Donald—”
“And leave that helpless infant to your clumsy efforts with a diaper pin? Cromarty, accept help when you need it. I won’t tell Donald you’re afraid of the diaper pail.”
“I’m not—”
Julie would rather change dirty dipes with Niall than hit the driving range with Uncle Donald. Perhaps that realization was dawning on Niall.
“We can discuss Scottish land records,” Niall said. “Declan’s granny figured prominently in my nightmares.”
Julie stuffed her golf shoes in her black bag, slipped into a pair of slides, and grabbed a sweater from the closet. “Meet you out front in five, dude. Bring your clubs.”
Chapter Four
----
“I have lost my heart to a blue-eyed charmer named Henry,” Julie said, lifting the fat, smiling baby up above her head and adding to Niall’s increasing store of available nightmares.
“If you drop that baby, Julie Leonard, I shall kill you, even if you are a lawyer, and Jeannie will kill me. Then the authorities will come after her, and the child will be left to the dubious mercies of my family for the balance of his upbringing.”
Niall had meant the warning half in jest. It hadn’t come out that way. Damn Declan’s granny for putting him off stride.
Julie lowered Henry and snuggled him against her shoulder. “This is your first solo with this baby?”
“Yes, and it will be my last if any harm comes to that child. Jeannie said he goes down for his nap around ten-thirty and it’s nearly eleven. Shouldn’t he be tiring?”
“We’re new people,” Julie said, patting the baby’s back. “New people always interest a happy baby. You talk golf and I’ll cuddle with my squeeze. You can put us both to sleep.”
She took the rocking chair while the grin Henry aimed at Niall was positively gloating. Put her to sleep, indeed.
Niall stretched out on the couch, a hopeless indignity because the couch in Jeannie’s rental was about two feet too short.
“What golfing topic would you like me to address?” he asked, wedging a pillow behind his head.
“When did you decide to focus on golf professionally?”
A prosecutor’s question, but also the
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