Page 1
chapter
one
Maverick
“I need you to draw up a marriage contract.”
Bryant Callahan stops typing. His fingers hover over the keyboard, mid-word, and for several seconds the only sound in the office is the old radiator under the window, ticking and knocking like it’s trying to get out. He doesn’t look up from his computer. For several seconds, he doesn’t move at all. Then he slowly lifts his head.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“A marriage contract.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, I heard the words.” He leans back in his chair and studies me. “I’m just trying to figure out whether you suffered some kind of traumatic brain injury between the parking lot and my office.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my brain.”
“Debatable.”
I ignore that.
Bryant has been my attorney for six years and my friend for nearly as long. Which means that he occasionally forgets which one I pay him to be.
His office sits on the second floor of the old Callahan building on Main Street, above the bank, with tall windows that look out over the town square. Law books nobody has opened since the internet was invented line the walls, and the whole place smells like coffee, furniture polish, and the faint mustiness of a building that’s been standing for a hundred and twenty years. It’s the kind of office designed to make clients feel their problems are in good hands.
Right now it’s making me feel like I’ve been called to the principal’s office.
“I’ve already finalized the details with the service.”
His eyebrows shoot up toward his glasses. “The service?”
“Yes.”
“What service?”
“The matchmaking service.”
His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
This is already taking longer than it should. I push back the cuff of my jacket and check my watch. There’s a glittery dinosaur sticker stuck to the band, courtesy of Shiloh at breakfast. I didn’t have the heart to peel it off.
“I have a conference call in forty-five minutes about the final permits at Hope’s Haven, and I need to pick up Shiloh from pre-school by four. I specifically blocked an hour for this meeting because you assured me that would be sufficient.”
“That was before I knew what this meeting was about.”
“Apparently an oversight on my part,” I say.
“Maverick,” he starts.
“What?”
“Please tell me you didn’t order a wife from one of those international services? You know those are fronts for human trafficking.”
“For fuck’s sake, Bryant, I’m not a moron. Of course I didn’t. I used a legitimate matchmaking service here in the States. They specialize in locating suitable candidates for marriage. They have an excellent success rate.”
He closes his eyes. “That’s ordering a wife.”
“It’s not.”
