“Thanks, but I’ve been arguing myself out of trouble my entire life.” Drew touched his tie again as if he’d suddenly forgotten who he was. As if he believed Molly was the solution to his problems. Except Drew refused to put her in the sightline of his enemies and risk ruining her reputation too. “It’s what I do best.”
“Drew, I could—”
Car horns blared. A bus’s brakes squealed. The city noise disrupted Molly’s words. Drew crossed the street, but Molly’s unfinished statement trailed after him.
She could be the exact kind of person I need.
But at what cost to Molly? He’d reached out to his former paralegal, Elena Harper, at the district attorney’s office after the charges against him had been announced. Within hours, his paralegal had been reassigned within the department, her work number disconnected and her email address locked.
Molly admitted her transition to the city hadn’t been smooth. What if Drew invited Molly into his problems and caused her and her practice serious damage? He couldn’t risk her future to save his own.
He was a good attorney. That would have to be enough to get his life back.
He stepped in front of Molly and swung open the door to the Roasted Vibes Café. Brandie Perkins, the owner of the café, greeted him from behind the counter. Four patrons waited near the far corner table Brandie always reserved for Drew, every second and fourth Thursday of the month.
Drew acknowledged the four women waiting for him, wished Molly a good evening and navigated through the crowd toward his table.
Yet one question lingered like the last threads of morning fog above the bay. Could Molly really help me?
Maybe. Doubt lodged next to his heart and he didn’t think he could move it.
And it didn’t seem to be leaving.
But Drew couldn’t stake his entire career or Molly’s on a maybe.
CHAPTER TWO
BOOKS FROM EVERY decade filled the shelves extending from the floor to the ceiling on one wall of the Roasted Vibes Café. Vinyl records lined the shelves on the opposite wall. A stage, large enough for a microphone and stool only, was tucked in a far corner. Cozy booths and mismatched tables elevated the café into eclectic and cool.
Molly stood in line behind several customers. Drew had seemed genuinely surprised to see her. She couldn’t say the same. In college she’d often run into Drew on campus to invite him to lunch, join him for coffee or simply to hang out. Those run-ins hadn’t been accidental, much like today at the courthouse. She’d known Drew was going to be there and she wanted to see him.
Still, she was normally straightforward. Upfront and to the point. Yet she’d acquired Drew as a client in a roundabout way. How would he react when she told him?
She stepped up to the counter covered in more vinyl records and searched the inspirational graffiti for encouragement. Drew and Molly had been school friends for a fair amount of time. Surely, that had to count for something now. She wasn’t any attorney offering to represent him. She was an old chum with his best interests in mind. Yet something like unsettled nerves twitched through her. She ordered an extra tall cold brew coffee, certain it was her caffeine craving making her fidgety, and opened her purse.
“It’s on the house. Courtesy of Drew Harrington.” The woman behind the counter smiled and picked up a clear plastic container with a hole on top. Donations for Lawtté Talk had been written in marker across the front. “If you’d like to contribute a buck or two to the Lawtté Talk fund, we won’t say no.”
“Thank you for the coffee.” Molly slipped her five-dollar bill into the donation box.
“It’s Drew’s idea. Lawtté Talk, that is.” The woman shifted her thick braids back over her shoulder, revealing her name Brandie embroidered in glitter thread on her bright purple button-down shirt.
“What exactly is Lawtté Talk?” Molly asked.
“Sorry. You came in with Drew. I assumed you’d already heard about it.” Brandie wiped a cloth over the counter. “Drew offers basic information and guidance about legal issues that customers might be facing.”
“That’s sounds very informal.” And very problematic. Molly glanced at Drew’s table, looking for a disclaimer sign that he wasn’t offering legal advice or engaging in a client–attorney relationship. Lawyers were supposed to steer clear of giving legal advice to random strangers to avoid the potential risks of it backfiring on them and doing more harm than good for the “client.”
Drew picked up a box of tissues from the chair beside him and handed it to the woman whom he was speaking with. Her shoulders drooped. She tugged a handful of tissues free and bunched them in her fist. Drew covered the woman’s hand with his. Compassion and understanding were reflected in his eyes and the simple gesture. The woman might be a stranger to Drew, but he’d just told her without words that she wasn’t alone. Molly’s chest tightened. Drew had done that very same thing for her all those years ago.
“Your order is ready.” Brandie set Molly’s large cup of coffee on the counter. “How do you know Drew then?”
“We went to law school together.” Molly unwrapped a straw. She hadn’t expected that seeing Drew again would unwrap so many memories and feelings this quickly.
Brandie lifted her head and considered Molly. “You’re a lawyer too?”
Molly nodded. “Criminal defense.”
Brandie’s smile shimmered in her eyes like the silver jewelry sparkling in her hair. “Then perhaps you can do for Drew what he’s doing for those women.”
“What is that exactly?” Molly asked.
“He’s giving them back their hope,” Brandie said.
Molly wrapped her fingers around her coffee cup. She’d lectured Drew about studying harder. Introduced him to the power of colored notecards to cram for final exams. And discovered his tolerance for spicy foods wasn’t as high as hers.
In exchange, Drew had given Molly balance. Always he’d reminded
