“I like you calling me your man.” Ryan looked like a lovesick fool. Or a lust-driven one.
As they took another selfie—this one with them kissing—I looked around the food court. I hadn’t been at the mall in a while, buying most of what I needed at Academy because of the employee discount and going to Walmart for anything else. The mall hadn’t changed much. Same overpriced stores and large crowds of people.
“Cason?” a girl said from behind me.
Turning, I instantly recognized her. Strawberry blond hair and glasses with jewels in the frames. And those same paint-splotched Converse.
“Hey, Faith.”
Her brows shot up, as if surprised I’d remembered her name. It said a lot about her self-esteem. “How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“Doing okay.” She smiled and adjusted her glasses. “You here for the Memorial Day weekend deals?”
“Nah,” I responded. However, that did explain why the mall was even more crowded than I remembered. “Are you?”
“Kind of. My mom brought me for a girls’ shopping day.” Faith checked her phone. “I lost her in Bath & Body Works.”
“The lotion place?”
“Lotion, candles, all of it,” she said, shaking her head. Her phone started ringing. “It’s my mom. It was nice seeing you again, Cason!” She answered it and walked in the other direction. “I’m on my way. How much did you buy? Oh my lordy. We’ll be set for life on candles.”
A nudge to my arm got my attention, and I looked to see Ryan smirking. “Who was the cutie with glasses?”
“Her name’s Faith. I met her at Trev’s party graduation night.”
“Didn’t know you went for the quirky type,” he said, draping an arm around Lexi’s shoulders. “Guess that explains why you’re always turning down Lindsey.”
I should have corrected him then and said neither of them were my type. But it was an easy out. A good cover for the real truth. So, I played along, like a damn actor on a stage.
“You should ask her out sometime,” Ryan said, as we left the food court with Lexi.
“Oh, it could be a double date,” Lexi added, her hand finding Ryan’s.
“Maybe.”
The weight from the lies would only get heavier, yet I did nothing to stop them. I didn’t know how. Because with that first lie, I’d caused a chain reaction of other lies to follow.
If I wasn’t careful, they’d keep building on top of each other until I was buried beneath them.
We hung out at the mall for a little over an hour before Lexi’s mom called and told her to come home because some out-of-state relative of hers had come to visit. We walked her down to the parking garage, and Ryan pushed her against her car and they made out for a while. When they finally pulled apart, Lexi dove back in for one last kiss and then got into her car.
“What do you think of her?” Ryan asked, smiling as he watched her drive away. “Hot, right?”
Her degree of “hotness” seemed to be the most important thing to Ryan.
“Yep,” I said. “Definitely cute.”
“Not sure where things are goin’ with her, but she’s a good way to enjoy the summer at least.”
“Is she going to college?” I asked as we walked to Ryan’s car.
“She’s going to beauty school or something like that,” he answered, shrugging, as if he couldn’t care less. He unlocked the car and we got in. “I don’t plan on tying myself down for long. College is the time to really let loose, ya know? All the hot chicks and parties.”
“Sure, but you need to actually do the work too,” I pointed out, having to bring him back down from the clouds. “Otherwise you’ll lose your baseball scholarship.”
“You sound like my dad,” Ryan groaned, pulling out of the garage. “Speaking of which, is it cool if we stop by his house real quick? Can’t find my cleats, and I think I left them over there.”
His dad. My stomach fluttered.
“Yeah, that’s cool.” I hoped my voice didn’t give way to my nerves. It would be the first time I saw Emery since the almost-hookup a few days ago.
“He probably won’t be home anyway,” Ryan added. “And if he is, he’ll be in his office. He’s working on that case, remember?”
“Right. You mentioned that earlier.”
Emery’s SUV was in the driveway when we got to his house. Ryan parked and hopped out of the car, and I was frozen in place.
“You coming?” he asked, bending down and sticking his head back into the car.
Nodding, I unbuckled my seat belt and got out. Ryan didn’t knock before checking the doorknob. Finding it was locked, he searched through his keys before finding the right one and unlocking the door.
I followed him into the house on shaky legs. Would Emery play it cool? Would he let something slip? Christ, I didn’t remember ever being so nervous.
“Ryan?” a voice sounded from the other room.
A voice I knew all too well. Suddenly, I had flashes of Emery pushing me on the bed and kissing me. I recalled his hands on my hips and the feel of his lips on mine. His touch had felt so right.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Ryan responded, walking down the hall. “Just picking something up. Won’t be long.”
Inside Ryan’s room, I helped him search for his cleats. He was always losing his shit and had gone through several pairs of shoes this past baseball season. Even more than that during football. I blamed it on his sense of entitlement. I mean, I loved Ryan like a brother, but he was used to getting whatever he wanted and didn’t respect what he had because of it.
“Need help?” Emery asked, coming into the room. Thank god Ryan’s back was turned because Emery didn’t hide his shock well at seeing me. His eyes widened and he even appeared to have gone a bit pale.
“No, thanks,” Ryan muttered from the closet, where he was on the ground searching through a pile of shoes and clothes. “Go back to work.”
“I’m done for the day,” Emery said, shifting his gaze from me to his son. “Do you want to stay for dinner? I can cook steak, your favorite.”
“Nope.” Ryan’s response was immediate.
Emery’s face fell, and my chest ached at the sight. He tried so hard to bond with Ryan, but Ryan wasn’t having any of it. All because of Emery being gay? It made me even more hesitant for Ryan to know about me.
“Hey, Mr. Cross,” I said, smiling.
“Cason,” Emery responded, his tone casual. His gaze lingered on my face before trailing down my body.
Was the AC even on in that damn house? I was burning up.
“Found them!” Ryan exclaimed, throwing stuff out of his way before standing, the cleats in his hands. He passed by Emery without so much as a look before leaving the bedroom.
Leaving me and Emery alone.
The temperature skyrocketed again. Emery’s glacier-blue eyes should’ve chilled me to the bone, but instead I felt like I was standing in front of a blazing fire.
“About that night—”
“No,” Emery said. “We’re not discussing it.”
“But I need to.” I stepped closer to him, searching his face. “Being with you feels—”
“Goddammit, Cason, I said no.” Emery tore his gaze from mine and turned away. Before he left the room, though, he stopped in the doorway. “It was a mistake. Forget it happened.”
“A mistake?” I whispered. “I don’t see it that way.”
For years, I had felt like an outsider, someone who wanted to fit in but didn’t ever feel like I did. For the first time, I felt like I was on the right track. Like maybe this was who I was meant to be.
All because of Emery.
“Cas?” Ryan called down the hall. “You comin’ or what?”
“Yeah,” I answered. Feeling a hollowing in my chest, I walked past Emery.
“Cason…” His hand brushed my arm before withdrawing, as if he’d wanted to stop me but changed his mind. “Take care of yourself.”
I looked at him, hating t
he way he made me feel. Rejected.
“Yeah. You too.”
And then I left the room.
Later that night, I was back at home, in my own bed, and trying to drown out Steve’s stupid-ass voice by shoving earbuds into my ears and blasting my favorite music playlist. My mom hadn’t even noticed me being gone last night and most of the day. When I’d come through the door a while ago, she had looked up from the TV, lost interest, and went back to her show.
No how was your day or where were you last night.
Maybe it was because I felt lonely or maybe I had just hit the max on my I don’t give a shit meter, but I clicked on the hookup app and went to my inbox, typing out a message to Emery before I could overthink it.
Me: Are we ever gonna talk again?
It showed he’d seen the message, and I waited for a response. And kept waiting. When fifteen minutes passed and I still hadn’t heard back from him, I sat up in bed and rubbed the tense muscles at the back of my neck.
I couldn’t talk to my best friend about my newfound feelings, and the one person I could talk to wouldn’t respond to me. The stress and depression had really gotten to me, both mentally and physically.
Then, my phone pinged.
LiamC: Idk what to say. I thought we made it clear we’d forget it happened.
Me: You said that. Not me.
I wanted to tell him I needed a friend. That I wanted to know I wasn’t alone in this. He’d been where I was now and could relate. So even though I wanted him to throw me on the bed and screw me senseless, I also wanted someone to freaking talk to who wouldn’t judge me.
LiamC: I’m sorry. But it’s for the best.
I stubbornly held on to hope.
Me: Ryan told me you’re working on a big case right now.
I was grasping at straws for things to say. I didn’t want to be alone in my head right now.
LiamC: I am.
Me: Your client’s the guy all over the news, right? The one they’re saying murdered his wife?
LiamC: Can’t discuss my work. Client-attorney privilege.
Me: Oh. Right. Sorry.
Minutes passed without a reply from him. My eyes stung as I recalled the cold way he’d treated me in Ryan’s room.
Me: I really liked kissing you the other night.
No response.
Steve’s voice cut through my music. “That little shit needs to pay up. There’s no food in this goddamn place.” His steps sounded in the hall before there was a bang at my door. “Open up.” The knob jingled as he twisted it from the other side. Another heavy knock. “Hey!”
The only time Mom or Steve remembered I existed was when they wanted money.
I turned up the volume in my earbuds and closed my eyes.
Wishing I was somewhere else.
Chapter 8
Emery
Jay Foley sat at the table to the left of me, one elbow resting on the tabletop as he touched a finger to his chin. Blond hair was brushed back, leaving only a little to fall forward. He glanced over at me and winked.
I shook my head and focused on the door that the judge would walk out of any moment, followed by the members of the jury.
My client waited with bated breath to hear if he’d go to prison for the rest of his life. His suit was nice, a rental from his new girlfriend, who sat in the row behind us. Her presence hadn’t helped his case any, especially since the prosecution proposed that Ritter killed his wife because he was having a secret affair.
My mind began to drift. Over the past few days, I’d been obsessively thinking about Cason. He’d messaged me a few times, and I had stopped replying even though I’d wanted to talk to him.
“I really liked kissing you the other night.”
It had taken a lot of willpower not to message him back and say I had enjoyed it too. I felt stuck between a rock and a hard place: guilty for ignoring Cason when I suspected he was struggling with his sexuality, but I also felt wrong for even humoring the thought of seeing him again.
“Please rise.”
The sounds of chairs squeaking and clothes rustling filled the courtroom as everyone stood. Judge Meyers entered the room and took a seat, allowing us to do the same. The jury entered and took their places to the right.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” Judge Meyers asked.
“We have, Your Honor,” a woman answered, holding an envelope.
The bailiff retrieved the envelope and gave it to the judge. Judge Meyers opened it and looked it over before handing it back and asking the jury to state the verdict aloud.
My client went rigid in his seat, and the tension was thick around us.
“The jury finds the defendant…” The woman glanced up, her gaze finding my client. “Guilty on all charges.”
Applause broke through my stunned silence, followed by the judge demanding order in his courtroom.
My scalp prickled and I felt heavy. I hadn’t expected a guilty verdict… not with the severe lack of physical evidence. It had been hearsay and circumstantial at best. With the way the media portrayed my client as a manipulative narcissist who had cheated on his wife and then killed her, I suspected his guilt was determined long before the trial even began.
A hard loss.
Jeff was handcuffed and removed from the room, receiving shouts of “You deserve to rot for what you did!” from the victim’s family. His girlfriend started crying and tried to attack Evette’s sister. Both women had to be held back.
“Good work, Cross.” I looked up to see Jay standing beside me, offering me his hand. “Can’t win them all. I do say justice was served, though. No hard feelings?”
I rose to my feet and shook his hand. “Congratulations on the win.”
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said with a smile, gently squeezing my fingers before letting go. “We both deserve it after this hell of a case.”
Jay and I hadn’t seen each other outside of work in about two weeks, but we’d reached a new level of friendship the last time I went to his house. It wasn’t just sex with us anymore. Somewhere along the way, we’d become friends.
“Make it two drinks and you have a deal.”
He smirked. “Done.”
The press waited like vultures on the courthouse steps, holding their voice recorders and cameras, desperate to get the first question.
“Mr. Foley!” they yelled, swooping in for the kill.
Jay flashed a smile, always the charmer, and answered their questions.
Others came for me. “Mr. Cross! How do you feel about the ruling? Are you going to appeal the court’s decision?”
Yeah, I definitely needed those drinks. The entire trial had been one massive headache after another. I had received hate mail that called me a heartless bastard for defending a “monster” like Jeff Ritter. The media had torn me apart, as well, saying I was a money-hungry cheat who would defend anyone for the right price.
Even though I’d lost, my shoulders set easier without the stress of the trial weighing them down.
After answering a few of the reporters’ questions, I left the courthouse and returned to my office. It was almost five o’clock, so it would be closing soon, but I needed to check my mail and sign a few documents so Becca could fax them.
“Reporters are waiting for you outside,” Becca said right as I came in through the side entrance.
“Of course they are,” I said, sighing. “Vultures.”
“Can I quote you on that, Mr. Cross?” Becca asked, using her pen as a recorder.
“I have a better story.” I set my briefcase on the floor beside my desk. “Emery Cross seeks new paralegal.”
“Harsh,” she said, putting a hand to her chest. Then, as usual, her bubbly personality was set aside as she became strictly professional. “Is there anything I can do to make your life easier? I can call the station and see if an officer can come down and keep an eye on things.”
We’d had to do that in the past if I worked a big case like the Ritter one. I’d
also had several clients before who had gotten angry at me and threatened to shoot the place up. Police presence would help deter most of the people who only wished to throw insults at me.
“Yes, please.” I grabbed the stack of papers from the tray and looked them over. “Just until this thing blows over. It’d be worse if I actually won the case.”
“Yeah, I’d have to be your bodyguard instead of your paralegal.” Becca cracked her knuckles.
I smiled and focused on the documents.
“Tough loss today,” Jerry Patel, my partner at the firm, said as he walked into my office. He mostly did civil work, whereas I did mainly criminal, apart from the occasional divorce or custody case. “Need me to buy whiskey for the office?”
“That won’t be necessary,” I said, sitting against the back of my chair. “I plan to drink plenty later this evening.”
“Have that prick Foley buy,” Jerry said with a smirk. “He went the ‘murderous affair’ route and had the jury wrapped around his finger.”
“Gotta admit, it takes one talented lawyer to convince an entire jury a man is guilty based on circumstantial evidence alone.”
“See?” Jerry pointed at me. “He owes you a drink.”
Around eight that evening, I met Jay at a cigar bar on Main Street called 906 Cocktail and Cigar Lounge. A live band played at a stage near the entrance. One saxophone, one piano, an upright bass, and drums. Cigar smoke perforated the air, but the place was big enough not to be overwhelmed by the smell. I swept a gaze throughout the room looking for Jay.
He sat in a cushioned chair in the corner of the room, and I headed that way. He was flirting with the server when I arrived.
The boy in front of him stammered over his words and went red in the face. Jay didn’t even have to try. He had blessed him with sinfully good looks, and he knew how to use them.
“Cross,” Jay said, spotting me. “Have a seat.”
I slid into the chair across from him and unbuttoned my suit jacket. He was dressed more casual, in a long-sleeved shirt pushed to his elbows and dark jeans. His blond hair was no longer restrained by the professional style he wore it in while working, and it instead fell freely, swooping across his brow.
His Temptation Page 7
