by K. A. Tucker
I let my legs slide off and drop to the floor noisily. “Suit yourself.” A strange mixture of excitement and disappointment sweeps through me with his words.
Jack totally threatened him.
It’s my own fault. I should have had Ben drop me off down the street. Jack is always up that early and I knew there was a chance that he’d be on his treadmill, the one in the room above the garage that overlooks the driveway.
Standing, I head toward the door. As my hand grasps the doorknob, Ben’s heavy sigh fills the air. “Look, I just can’t risk losing my job over this.”
I pause to look over at him. “Over what? We’re just friends, right?”
The pen in his hand flicks back and forth as he regards me for a moment. And then he smiles. “Yup, just friends.”
I hold up a finger. “But don’t forget, fake boyfriend, we still have a deal.” I haven’t talked to Jared since that day at the café, more than a week ago. I hear that little voice screaming inside my head, the words “let him go” on repeat, but a part of me—the part that makes me open up Facebook and type in his name as soon as I wake up in the morning—isn’t ready yet. I just can’t figure out exactly why. Is it for the sake of pride? The promise of retribution? Or is it because I know all is not well in Caroline’s stolen paradise? Because I want my paradise back?
“Yeah . . .” That one word draws out of Ben’s mouth with another glance toward Jack’s office as he shakes his head, a strange frown marring his face. “Just don’t get your fake boyfriend fired.”
“Here.” I set one of Mrs. Cooke’s muffins down on his desk, my stomach doing a small flip at the sight of Ben’s arms, looking all the more defined in a fitted silvery-blue golf shirt. I think blue is my favorite color on him. It makes his eyes pop. “They’re going fast.”
Ben looks up from his desk, glancing at my offering, and then up at me. “That’s because I’ve already eaten three this morning.” Reaching out to wrap a giant hand around it, he says with a wry smile, “But thanks. I’ll gladly take this one too.”
“You’re going to grow a belly like Jack if you don’t slow down on those.”
Taking a bite, he watches me with curious eyes while he chews and swallows. “Will you still love me when I don’t look like this?”
“Absolutely not.” I turn to walk out, his snicker making me smile.
But then his words catch me at his doorway. “You know, you’re acting awfully nice to me. It’s out of character. People are starting to notice. They think Rancor is developing a little crush.” I look over my shoulder in time to catch his wink. “We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”
I can’t tell if he’s just teasing me or if people are actually saying that and noticing a difference in me. But I do know that we definitely don’t want that kind of rumor floating around. “You know better, though, right?” It almost comes out as a warning.
Grinning broadly, he holds the muffin up and says, “No worries here, Reese. Thanks for this.”
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath but I guess I was, because I release it in a heavy sigh. Just to be on the safe side, I add in a calm but loud—loud enough for half the office to hear—voice, “I hope you choke on that and die. Have a nice day!”
Reese MacKay does not “crush” on anyone.
Ben’s laughter trails me past a dozen nosy clerks and admins, all the way into my own office.
Life at work has taken a turn down Dreadfully Boring Street. It’s not that I ever particularly enjoyed it, but the last few weeks had felt different. More lively. Now, my office feels empty and dull. Not for the lack of file folders or coffee cups, though.
It’s because a certain six-foot-three-inch blond guy ensures he’s never in a room alone with me anymore. I’m still focused 100 percent on Natasha’s and his cases, but he has started going to the other paralegals—who aren’t half as quick or efficient as I am—for answers.
For a while there, I was worried he might believe these “rumors” that I have a thing for him and was intentionally avoiding me because he doesn’t want to lead me on. But I catch those blue eyes on me all the time. He’s not embarrassed about it, either. I know because he winks at me every time our eyes connect.
I can’t even corner him in his office, because he’s in meetings with Natasha all the time.
And now I’m starting to get paranoid that there’s something going on between him and the law bot, even though she’s engaged and I’m pretty sure she’d never agree to casual sex. She’s probably as militant in bed as she is with everything else, something I doubt Ben would be into.
I hope he wouldn’t be into.
Unless she’s one of those people who tie their men up and whip them. Ben might be into that.
I hate this.
I don’t even want anything with Ben besides what we already have. I just don’t want him to have that with anyone else.
So now I find myself looking for every excuse possible to stop by Ben’s office. That’s why I’m standing in line, buying a cup of this dreadful coffee—a joke, really—and some scones.
“I’ve seen you here before. I can’t believe I didn’t realize who you were.”
People say that southern drawls are beautiful and relaxing. At nine a.m. and coming from its source, I would describe it more like nails-on-a-chalkboard grating.
I glance over my shoulder to catch Caroline’s sour expression and wonder why she’s here so late. The four times I waited on that park bench outside for her, the girl walked in at eight thirty, like clockwork. Though, by the sharp look in her eyes, I’m starting to think that she may have been doing the waiting today. “Sorry, can’t say I ever noticed you.” I pay for my purchase and step away from the counter. “Have a great day!” I offer in the most annoying, chirpy voice I can manage as I pass by her and head out the door.
A vice-like grip latches onto my arm. “You don’t think I know what you’re doing?” Caroline hisses.
I glance down at her hand and she releases it quickly as if suddenly spotting lesions. “Was that a trick question? Because I’m heading to work. It’s not exactly surreptitious.”
She stabs me with an icy glare. “There are an awful lot of coincidences at play here, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Aside from us having the same taste in men and cafés, I’m not seeing it.” She’s standing so close to me that I can smell her breath. It smells like watermelon. The simulated-flavor gum kind. I hate watermelon. Figures.
Her eyes narrow. “How did your number end up in Jared’s phone again?”
I struggle to hide my surprise. Jared has a thing about his phone and keeping people out of it. Or maybe it was just keeping me out of it, because he was texting his ex.
Her next words answer my confusion. “That’s the thing about knowing someone since you were six years old. They’re pretty predictable. Even with their passwords.”
“What’s wrong, you don’t trust him?” I doubt Jared would be happy having his jealous wife snooping through his things, and she’s jealous all right. I feel the spike of joy deep inside.
“You will never get him back,” she says slowly and evenly, with the kind of confidence that can’t be faked. “Jared has been in love with me all his life. He was so crushed when we broke up that he would have taken anything. Why else do you think he’d marry a motorcycle-riding psycho like you? You were a mistake that he regrets every day. He’s mine and he always will be.”
Emotion erupts inside me—a hazardous mixture of anger and humiliation and hurt that burns at the rims of my eyes and makes me want to dump this scalding coffee over her head. Not for one second have I forgotten the look on her face when I pulled open the shower curtain that day. I swear, I think she was waiting for that moment because she quickly locked eyes with me, a triumphant gleam shining through.
And now she’s throwing down the gloves in the middle of a café, surrounded by baked goods and strangers. I catch a slight tremble in her hand and I have to believe she may be a l
ittle bit afraid of me. Seeing as I left a pair of scissors jabbed through her eyes in that picture of her and Jared, she should be. She should probably be afraid that I’m going to hit her right here, in the middle of this crowd. Maybe she’s hoping that’s exactly what I’ll do. That’s exactly what I want to do. She knows I have a temper. She could press charges against me and be rid of me. There’d be plenty of witnesses here.
Clever girl.
“Why are you so worried that he has my phone number then?” I ask in a forced calm voice, feeling the scone in my hand crumble within my tight grasp.
“I’m not,” she sputters out, seemingly caught off guard. “You just need to know that I know and I’m laughing at you. All of my friends are laughing at you. You are pathetic.”
Yeah, she’s definitely provoking me.
I bite my tongue against the irresistible urge to ask how her legs are after Sunday. No use giving her something worthy of a restraining order. “Well, it’s nice to see that Jared’s moving on from one crazy to another. Have a great day,” I exclaim with forced exuberance as I turn my back to her and walk away, my teeth gritted tightly.
I pull out my phone and hit number two on my speed dial.
“Reese? Are you okay?” Jack asks right away.
I frown, scanning the cars and pedestrians on the street. “Yeah . . .”
A deep exhale carries through the receiver. “Okay, good. I just thought . . . because you’re calling me,” he says with a chuckle. “You’re usually holed up in your office, hating everyone for another hour or two.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“So, what’s up?”
“You mentioned a little party for Ben and Mason?” It was official last week. Ben and Mason got their bar exam results and both passed. They’re now associate lawyers.
“I did. Why?”
The wheels of my devious brain are picking up speed. “I’m going to plan something for this Friday.”
“Well, Mrs. Cooke has already—”
I cut him off. “No, Jack. We’re not doing this in a church basement. I’ll find something good.” A casual bar, a relaxed situation. Neutral ground. Somewhere I can come and go as if I don’t give a shit.
And remind my ex-husband how much he misses me.
As soon as I’m off the phone with Jack, I message Jared.
I’ll be at The Grill on Friday night around eight, with friends. Casual.
After a moment, I add:
You may want to change your phone password. According to your lovely wife who I just ran into, you’re very predictable.
Chapter 22
BEN
T.G.I.F.
Every day seems to blend into the next around here. I guess I pushed my office door shut a little too hard because it slams, causing at least a dozen heads to pop up from cubicles like in that carnival groundhog game. I wave a lazy apology as I toss another folder down.
Damn, what I’d do to have Reese attached to me all hours of the day and night! I like working with her. No, I fucking love working with her. Just having her around somehow makes everything more entertaining.
That’s why I’ve had to all but avoid her this week. And it sucks.
Jack is right: the girl just has a bewitching way about her. Idiots like me are doomed.
As I round my desk, I find a red gift bag sitting in my chair with bits of white tissue paper sticking out. After weeks of hiding in rooms and doing Natasha’s bidding, bar exam results were posted this week. Mason and I passed. I’m finally a real lawyer. I’m guessing this is some sort of congratulatory thing.
I rifle through it with curiosity to discover a folded note:
Congrats on becoming an official law bot.
In case the nickname didn’t give it away, I know by the messy chicken scratch that it’s from Reese. The woman has worse handwriting than any doctor I’ve ever met. I think it’s because she’s always rushing. Digging down farther, I pull out a bright red T-shirt that says: “I got puked on in Cancún and all I have to show for it is this ugly red shirt.”
I’m sure the entire floor can hear my bellow of laughter.
Damn, I love her sense of humor.
And I’m really disappointed when I find no one but the Rancor cutout in her office, her computer shut down already. I guess it’s not a big deal. I can thank her at the little after-work party they’re throwing for Mason and me tonight.
Still, I don’t even want to wait that long.
“Good pick,” I yell over the live band as my eyes roam the crowd at The Grill, resting on a couple of brunettes who have already noticed me and, by the small waves and winks, are not shy about making me aware of it.
“Reese arranged it all,” Mason admits with no small surprise in his tone, clanking his draft against mine. “Cheers. To being a real lawyer.”
“Where is the little minx, anyway?” The entire attorney staff, including Jack, are here tonight to celebrate. They have an area cordoned off for us, set with platters of food and a few tables. I’ve been doing the rounds for the last three hours, watching the clock and the door way too much.
“With Lina and Nicki. Lina just texted me to say they’d be here soon.”
“How’s that going? Is she the reason behind this whole ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ look you’ve got going on?” Mason has never been known for his keen fashion sense, but now he’s got new clothes and he’s styling his hair differently. He’s even wearing contacts. We used to ride his ass about those thick, dorky glasses he wore, but he refused to change them.
His cheeks brighten as he shrugs. “I felt like trying something new and she helped me.”
Getting laid certainly is doing wonders for this guy. “And things are good between you two?”
A sheepish grin passes over his face. “It’s good. It’s . . .” The smile fades as his head nods up and down. He finishes with, “It’s complicated.”
“Oh hell, you’re not fucking in love with her, are you?”
“No! I mean, I like her. A lot. But . . .” His voice trails off as he stares at his beer.
“But what? And I don’t do relationship talk, so this had better not be deep,” I warn him.
“She’s Reese’s best friend, so . . .” He hesitates, as if he’s reluctant to admit the rest. “I’m waiting to find something majorly wrong with her.”
He doesn’t look too pleased when I burst out laughing at him. “I thought you and Reese were sorting your shit out.” I’ve seen them talking more in the office. Reese even offered to help him proof some legal letters going out to clients the other day.
“I think we are,” he concedes with a shrug. “Slowly.”
“Well, from what Jack says, Reese is not leaving your lives again. Ever. And my money’s on her if you two go to war, just so you know.”
He shrugs and takes another big gulp of his drink. And I smile to myself. Mason’s a lightweight. He’ll be giggling like a little girl by the time he reaches the bottom of that. Speaking of drunk, I need to slow down on these or I’m liable to do something stupid and unprofessional and, well . . . me. Probably not the right place or time for that. Later, at my house, where the guys are throwing a little party for me, is fair game.
“What’s going on between you and Reese?” Mason asks suddenly.
“I already told you. Nothing.”
“Ben.” He leans forward and drops his voice. “I don’t want to see you get fired.” The skin between his eyes pinches together. “I know I don’t really fit in with the rest of the guys, but you’ve always made me feel like one of the group. You’ve always been a good friend to me. I’m just trying to look out for you.”
It’s funny that Mason is saying this to me now. When I started law school, I felt like I didn’t fit in. Going from my undergrad, where I was still seen as the star quarterback even after I wasn’t playing anymore, to a nobody who lacked the scholarly vibes and refinement that everyone else seemed to have was tough. I mean, I had the GPA, the LSAT scores, the letters of
recommendation and all that, but for a while there, I thought I’d made a big mistake applying to law school.
I drop a heavy hand on his shoulder as a platinum-blond head catches my attention behind Mason. “Don’t worry. I’m not getting fired.” I watch the crowd shift as Mercy and Hannah make their way toward me, every guy’s head turning to trail them. “Damn,” I mutter. It’s impossible to see those two together without thinking about my farewell party. This is going to be a long-ass night. I really hope Reese shows up soon.
“Are those the two?” Mason’s index finger pushes against the bridge of his nose—where his glasses would be if he were wearing them anymore—as he stares wide-eyed at them.
“Yup,” I grin. Giving Mason the details of that night was almost as fun as experiencing it. The guy hung onto my every word as if I’d been revealing the secret to the Holy Grail.
“Ben!” I barely get my glass down before Mercy is on me, her arms wrapped around my neck tightly, laying a kiss right smack on my mouth. “Congratulations!” I know she’s genuinely happy for me and, hell, I can’t push her away. That would be mean.
Still, I gesture forward, trying to peel her off me politely. “You remember my good friend, Mason.”
“I do.” Her eyes light up as she steps past me. I watch with a grin, knowing what’s coming. The appropriate thing would be to shake his hand and say hello. Given Mercy has already met him once, though, she leans into him and lays a slow kiss on his cheek, setting his face on fire instantly.
“Hey, Ben, it’s okay that we’re here, right?” Hannah’s voice purrs next to me. She’s so much more reserved than Mercy is. “I tried to dress down so I’m not so obvious around your lawyer friends. Do you think they know?”
