Chapter 3 (Problem, Princess)

Even as Linda's heart shot in her throat and her gaze darted around to discover who was accosting her on this country lane, she recognized Scott with relief.

"Problem Princess?" His voice was dry. With one arm resting on the roof, he leaned down to look at her sardonically through the door.

The annoying part was that she was actually happy to see him.

"The stupid thing turned off. I told you I was having car trouble, I hope you believe me now. And don't call me Princess."

He smirked. "Want to turn off the ignition?"

As she did that, he moved away from the door and stood in front of the car. She missed his scent immediately. Funny.

"Pop the bonnet," he said, looking at her through the windshield.

As soon as she did, he disappeared behind it, she got out and went to join him. The faint, sweet smell of grass that provided a soft undertone to the more obvious smell of something burning. That something, might be a vital part of her engine.

Damn! This Jaguar.

Having dropped her jacket while getting out of the car, she welcomed the evening's heat as it caressed her chilled bare arms. Scott was without his jacket too. His shirt was rolled to his elbows and his tie was gone. A narrow black belt circled his waist, making firm his black suit pants just above his hip bones. As he was bent over the engine, she couldn't help bit notice he had a nice toned butt.

She had told him that on a memorable occasion, her exact words were "Nice as" when she'd come across him, clad in shorts and a sweaty t-shirt, bent over a lawn mower. His reply had been disdainful.

The memory was embarrassing, and she did her best to avoid it.

"You got a loose battery wire. And that's what made the car stop, I fixed it." Scott said from under the bonnet.

"So is it okay for me to use now?". She asked hopefully. He was handy with all sort of engines and it was kinda hot. From the time he was sixteen, he had driven all sorts of junks and he managed to keep them going.

"Nope." Tightening a cap he'd loosened, he looked at her. "The big problem is you're out of fluid. You're lucky you didn't burn your car up."

"They just fixed it today!"

He shut the bonnet with a sigh. "Well, either they forgot to put the fluid back or you've got a leak. You're lucky the battery wire came loose immediately or you will spend more money to replace your transmission. So, come on let me give you a ride home. Except you want to wait for lover boy."

Linda grimaced at the reference to Davis which she knew was intentional. She followed him to his car.

"Davis' not in town. And by the way don't you think calling people names like Lover boy and Princess are just a little bit too petty?" She said. He leaned against the door of the car, his arms folded, watching her approach. "Maybe it's time you out grew it."

He laughed.

"You make me petty. Probably having you around brings up all those old silly memories. Remember the night when your mom called me over to fix the heater, you and your four girlfriends, were having a slumber party. You guys decided to go skinny dipping in the pool right where I could see. Weren't you the one who yelled '_hey dude, stop gawking and join us_' "

Turning her face away, Linda felt her cheeks heat up even as she turned to glare at him.

"It was Mina and you know that." Mina Gregory had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. "We were sixteen."

"Trust me, I knew that. But then the word 'jailbait' kept popping in my head."

"Is that why you didn't come swimming?" Mockery infused her tone.

"Absolutely." His smirk widened as their eyes collided. "But I'm not so sure about now. Maybe you should ask again?"

For a moment, her heart raced at the thought, even she knew he didn't mean it.

"Never, don't think of it."

She tried opening his car door and as she did, she lost her grip on her briefcase. It hid the ground with a thud, and half of its content could be seen through the opening.

"Ohhhh," he said.

"Damn it!" Juggling bag, jacket, and keys, she bent to shove the contents back inside and pick up her briefcase. But Scott did before her. Linda looked at his big hands and then remembered the Garcia file that was on top and unmistakable because of the blue label on the tab, which all the prosecutors file have, she saw it and her heart began to race while she waited for Scott to start screaming at her.

Nothing happened. Instead, he put the files and papers inside the briefcase, locked it and stood up with it. He gave no indication that he saw the file.

Linda let out a breathe of relief. She wasn't sure if he would have fired her. Getting caught taking a file from the office without permission was a good way to know.

"I hate to rush you, but I need to get going."

Putting her briefcase in the backseat, he opened the passenger door for her before walking around and sliding behind the wheel.

"What were you doing around here anyway?" She asked as they got on their way.

"My dad called an hour ago." He didn't say anything else but she understood. The thing about bad memories is that they go both ways. Most of his memories was mainly about his father, who was a chronic alcoholic, who knew nothing more than hitting his sons. Scott had an older brother, James when they were growing up, playing around, or driving around drunk in their old junk of a car screaming profanities. "He wasn't saying anything reasonable, but I thought I'd come check on him."

"Oh." The syllable acknowledged that Billy Buchanan, Mr Buchanan was probably drunk when he made the call. Given the way he had treated Scott, she could vividly remember seeing him on countless occasions with black eyes and fat lips. It meant a lot that he even picked his father's call, and now he was driving all the way to his house to check on him.

"How is life at home treating you?" Scott asked. Obviously he didn't want to talk about his father or whatever issues he had that might have precipitated the call.

"It's okay. A little small, but I'm glad to spend time with my mom." Her mother's diagnosis was fatal. The question was, how long does she have left? Linda hoped years, but she feared it might be much less than that. "Given the situation, I'd rather spend time with my mom."

"Yeah." Scott's answer carried a tone that was recognizable. Karen Grant had been a wonderful, loving mother to her sometimes undeserving daughter, just as she had been a guardian to him.

Linda remembered something. "So did Garlin confess?"

There was a pause as he shot her a quick surprised glance. Then he smirked. "For a minute, I had no idea how you knew that."

"Being smart." Her tone was dry.

"No, I mean, I really forgot you are a lawyer now. Who would have thought of that? I look at you and I instantly think of that spoiled brat who followed me around in a two piece, practically begging me to do amazing things to her."

"That was then, I'm all grown now," she said. "It'd be nice if we could move on from that memory. I'll make you a deal. I'll forget them if you will."

His gaze flickered towards her, and then he smiled, a slow lazy smile, that had her suspicious.

"Nope, remembering is so much fun."

Linda refused to lose her cool. "Did Garlin confess or not?"

"Yeah, he confessed. Even said where he hid the murder weapon. After we had a deal. No death penalty."

"He wouldn't have gotten it, anyway. Any good lawyer could have arranged to have his weeping relatives to testify about what a good guy he was and how his old grandmother won't want to see him die."

"That's what I thought. Plus he's twenty. And he agreed to life imprisonment."

"He'll be out in fifteen years."

Scott shrugged. "The legal system is_"

He stopped short as they reached the road where the lane joined the Mount Vernon Road. His face changed, and his knuckles turned white from gripping the steering hard. Looking up to see his line of vision, she was able to see, down the way, the Buchanan home, which was at the front of the long road leading to Greystone Springs. A line of police cars parked in the grass yard, with lights flashing. A cop could be seen going into the house.

"Oh," she said.

"Shit!" Scott muttered and sped towards them.