Bachelor (Rixton Falls #2) Read Online Free Page A

I’m on my way and click off the banker’s lamp behind my laptop.
    A minute later, I’m driving east of town, where my sister and her boyfriend live while he finishes law school. Twenty minutes later, I pull into the drive.
    Demi greets me at the door before I have a chance to ring the bell, her arms wrapping around my shoulders as she pulls me inside.
    “You act like you haven’t seen me in ages.” I step out of my shoes once I’m inside.
    “It’s just makes me really, really happy when we’re all hanging out again. It’s just like old times.” She does a happy skip, and I follow her to the living room where my childhood best friend has two plastic Battleship boards set up and ready to go.
    “What’s up with you lately?” Demi plops down on the sofa and tucks a leg beneath her. “Any exciting trials I should know about?”
    I simper. “If there were any ongoing cases, I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything, but nowadays, everything is settled out of court. Less expense that way. There’s not a huge demand for trial lawyers in Rixton County, believe it or not.”
    Once upon a time, our father was a county prosecutor, but the grueling hours stole him away from his family, so over the years, he established Rosewood, LLP, and I joined on after law school. Now we do a little bit of everything, but his reputation from his days in the courtroom has solidified his reputation as one of the most sought-after trial lawyers in the state. I tend to get the cases that trickle down, the ones he can’t be bothered with. And I accept them with a smile on my face, because that’s how you deal with Robert Rosewood. You get what you get, and you don’t complain until you’ve earned the privilege.
    It’s how Serena’s file landed in my lap.
    “So what do you do to pass the time?” Demi asks.
    “I take on some side projects. Estate law. Family law. Nothing terribly exciting.” I take a seat across from Royal.
    “Ready to get your ass kicked?” Royal pushes my half of the Battleship game across the coffee table.
    “I can promise you that won’t be happening tonight.” I take a seat on the floor across from him.
    Demi hops up, running to the kitchen, and returns with two Heinekens and her Us Weekly .
    “You still read those things?” I tease.
    She deposits our bottles on the table and curls up on the sofa again, flipping to the middle of her magazine because God forbid she starts from the beginning of something for once in her life.
    “Only God can judge me.” She hides her face behind the splayed cover, and a photo in the corner catches my eye.
    “Hey, let me see that,” I say.
    Demi lowers the glossy rag and arches an eyebrow. “ This ?”
    “Yeah.” I swipe it from her hand and examine the headline.
    SERENA RANDALL’S DESPERATE TIMES
    “Do you know her?” I point to the picture on the cover of a tearful Serena, quite possibly the saddest-looking woman I’ve ever seen.
    “Do I know her? Um, no.” Demi razzes. “Do I know about her? Yeah. Who doesn’t?”
    “I don’t,” Royal says. “Never heard of her.”
    “What do you know about her?” I ask.
    Demi sets the magazine aside and repositions herself, leaning in and grinning like we’re about to talk shop. By day, she teaches kindergarteners. By night, she’s a celebrity gossip aficionado. Nothing wrong with wide-ranging interests, I suppose.
    “Well,” she begins. “She’s this beautiful heiress. I think her dad owns some big steel corporation? Or maybe it’s a tire manufacturer? I don’t know. Something industrial. Multi-multi-multi-millionaire. She’s an only child, and her mom died when she was little. Anyway, she was engaged to Keir Montgomery, as in the youngest son of the President of the United States. It was this whirlwind romance. Happened super fast. The gossip bloggers went nuts. The paparazzi ate it up. They were adorable together. Picture perfect. She’d never been so in love, and everyone thought she was going to be