6+ Us Makes Eight_A Teacher and Single Dad Romance

by Nicole Elliot

  He laughed. “I don’t need to get laid. I need to not be fighting with some old fart.”

  We both laughed. Hatchett was at least sixty-five, having gotten into the game late. I supposed that maybe he just hated young folks, which was why he made our lives so fucking difficult.

  “Right. Well, look—we can have this interview and pick a good lawyer. I don’t like being unprotected.”

  “You?” Maverick gestured to the tattoos peeking from under my sleeves.

  I grinned. My suit usually hid them, but I didn’t care if anyone saw. I was the fucking boss. “Yeah, me. Anyway, her name is Henley Cates. She looks good. On paper.”

  Maverick stood, shagging the cup and buttoning his suit. “Well, set something up then. I look forward to meeting her.”

  2

  Henley

  It was hard to believe that a week prior, I’d had a steady job and could afford more than frozen dinners. Though it was just an internship, I was getting paid. But the six-month duration had ended, and I’d had nothing going for me since I hadn’t been offered a full-time position.

  It sucked. I mean, really sucked. I had officially become one of those people who graduated but didn’t have a job. I’d made damn near perfect grades, had second-chaired law cases, and received glowing recommendations, but was still out-of-luck.

  I tended to blame my shortcomings on my red hair, thinking it kept people from wanting to hire me. My hair wasn’t the nice kind of red that people dyed theirs; it was the unruly wild kind that belonged on exotic models, not ordinary law students, or lawyers rather, since I’d already graduated. I always tried to make it look darker by either slicking it into a bun while wet, or keeping it tied up.

  Logically, I knew it was foolish to think this way, but I also knew there had to be a reason I wasn’t being hired. Each day was the same. I’d spend the day reading, running unnecessary errands, and keeping myself busy until six o’clock when I would pretend to be coming back from work. And then I’d eat a sad dinner and scour every job site I could find for anything related to law.

  I was convinced I would end up as a paralegal or an assistant, but knew I had to keep trying because I didn’t go into major debt with student loans to wind up with just a subpar job.

  My roommate and best friend, Denton, was gone for the time being. I was lucky for him because last month, I’d barely had enough money for rent, so he cut me a break. That’s when I vowed to get a job by week’s end, no matter what. So I submitted to every firm and company around, hoping something would give. I even tried my luck with the big guns like Hatchett and H&P. With those two being heads of investment banking, I knew I could make a killing as an investment lawyer for either of them. But I also knew it was a farfetched dream. Their application stacks were seven feet high, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if you had to be a blood relative to actually work there. Hence, I doubted my glowing resume and job experience would improve my chances. Nor would the photo that was required for one of the applications, for that matter. Sure, I have a pretty face and would probably have a job by now if I used it to my advantage. But to say I didn’t know how would be an understatement. My hips and curves were just barriers to jeans and button up shirts, not something I used to control men.

  By the end of the night, I’d showered and snuggled into bed with my e-reader. Sometimes I felt lucky to not have parents that were down my throat. They traveled the world and had a satellite number I never called, but it was nothing personal. I was alone besides Denton, and even he had stopped asking about my employment status, knowing how much it annoyed me. I was already thoroughly disappointed in myself and didn’t need constant reminders about why.

  I ended up having a fitful sleep, not waking until ten o’clock and taking my soggy oatmeal into the bathroom. Denton and I had separate bathrooms, and I had decorated mine in silver and white with black fluffy rugs and flowers back when I’d had money a few years ago when we first moved in. It had been my junior year of college. His fashion stuff had taken off, so we had decided to get a nice place together. I’d been working for an investment firm at the time, but lost the job when I graduated because the position had only been for students.

  The sun peeked through the window and I felt luxurious as I soaked in the tub with the last of my good bath salts. Leaning against the towel pillow, I shut my eyes and tried to relax, but could feel the tension throughout my body. I was constantly waiting for my phone to ring these days, so when it did, I practically flew out of the tub, hoping it wasn’t just Denton saying he’d forgotten his key.

  I looked at my phone, not recognizing the number. “Hello, this is Henley Cates,” I said, accustomed to answering as a professional.

  “Hi, this is Martha with Human Resources at H&P Enterprises. I’m calling to let you know you have been scheduled for an interview this afternoon at one o’clock.” Her chipper voice glided through, but a glance at the time didn’t allow me to enjoy the good news.

  “Thank you. Is that one, central time?” I squeaked.

  “Yes, ma’am. About forty-five minutes from now. You can enter through the front and you’ll be directed here. Thank you.”

  She hung up before I could ask why the hell I hadn’t been notified sooner.

  I jumped out of the tub, not bothering to empty and wash it, and quickly began drying off, wondering when, or if, I had previously gotten a notification about the interview. I’d been glued to my emails and call-log for months, yet I was sure this was the first time I’d heard about it.

  Ridiculous.

  I didn’t have time to obsess over an outfit, so I just threw on a black dress and blazer, found some respectable heels, and tied my hair into a bun.

  I knew the office was at least twenty minutes out, so I’d be late if I didn’t leave within ten minutes. But just as I was about to head out, I had to scour the room for my car keys. I searched my bedroom, the living room, the bathroom, and my bedroom again before finally finding them in the fridge.

  In the fridge.

  Then, of course, I needed to find my portfolio; showing up without it would mean immediate back-logging. Truthfully though, I wondered if I even had a shot since I would probably be late even if I rushed.

  Finally finding the damned thing in my pile of papers on the coffee table, I hurried out the door.

  The city was so wrapped around with cars and trucks that I had to take backroads, running over so many pot holes I wouldn’t have been surprised if my hub caps were gone.

  “Come on, come on,” I chanted, less than five minutes out.

  I rushed into a parking spot in the lot across the street. Jumping out of my car, I had the misfortune of stepping into a pot hole and breaking my heel.

  “Shit!” I cried, pretty sure the heel had snapped in half. Knowing I couldn’t walk into such an important interview with a broken heel, I ran back to my car and grabbed the pair of flats I always kept with me.

  As I finally made it inside the building, I felt my bun loosening. My skin was flushed and the cool air inside did nothing to help.

  I stepped up to the information desk. Everything was sleek, clear, and luxurious, instantly making me feel out of my league. The company name took up the wall behind the desk.

  “Hi. I have an interview at one,” I announced.

  The woman glanced at the clock that read twelve fifty-nine. “Wait here, please,” the woman said, and gestured to the couches by the door.

  I pressed my lips together. I was already late, and now had to wait. I wondered if this was a sign that I had already ruined my chances. I knew I looked a mess, with my ratty shoes and quickly worsening hair situation. This interview was already turning out to be a disaster of epic proportions.

  “Miss Cates?” A middle-aged woman with a soft voice appeared. I stood quickly, recognizing her voice from over the phone.

  “Yes. Hi.” I smoothed out my skirt and hair, and followed her to the elevators.

  “Hi. My name is Martha and I’ll take you to the co
nference room where you’ll wait for Mr. Hayes and Mr. Phillips,” she explained in the elevator.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Were all applicants invited today?” I asked curiously.

  “No. Mr. Hayes had only just extended me your information before I called you.” She then looked me up and down and pursed her lips.

  I fought to keep my expression neutral. After such short notice, what did they expect? Did they think I would be just sitting around in a suit, waiting on their call with my portfolio in hand?

  We reached the top floor and I clutched my purse and folder as we walked down the hall. Cubicles lined one side, while small pods of lounge chairs lined the other. Market numbers were displayed on a huge screen.

  At the end of the hall, we stopped at a clear door—the kind you could only see shadows through.

  “Wait here,” Martha instructed. I watched her walk away in her gray pant suit and somehow knew I hated her.

  Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I hoped I wouldn’t have to stand for long. My shoes were too small, my feet hurt, and sweat was running my back.

  It was half past one before the door swung open. I gave a slight start, thinking I was looking at the company’s advertisement models. One of them, tall with blond hair and blue eyes, wore a welcoming smile. His navy-blue suit looked like a second skin, the tight jacket drawing attention to his muscles. And the other one was the exact definition of dark and handsome. His dark brown hair hung artfully around his brown eyes, which were sharp, just like his jawline. My eyes trailed over his mouth, realizing he was frowning.

  “H-hello,” I stammered. “I’m Henley Cates.” I held out my hand, and the friendlier one took it. There was a good five-second delay before the other moved to shake my hand.

  “I’m Maverick Phillips,” the friendlier one said. “And this is Jude Hayes. We’re the ‘H and P.’” Maverick smiled warmly again and I relaxed a little bit until I noticed Jude still frowning, looking over me like I was a rare specimen.

  “It’s wonderful to meet you both,” I said, nervously clutching my purse strap.

  “Same here. Please, come in,” Maverick said, turning around. I could have sworn he shot Jude a look. As I followed them, I wished I’d spent more time getting ready; it would have been worth being late to have makeup, proper hair, and shoes that weren’t broken.

  I sat across from them both; they had chosen a table in the corner, so if I moved the wrong way, I would collide with their knees, as they were both so tall.

  Jude took off his black suit jacket and leaned across the table. Tattoos peeked on his wrist and my eyes widened before glancing away and looking at Maverick instead. He gave me another warm smile and I handed him my portfolio.

  “So, Miss Cates—why do you want to protect our assets?” Jude asked.

  3

  Maverick

  The day got progressively worse as it went along. I started at five as I did every morning to train at my home gym. Having a home gym wasn’t about being pretentious; it was just easier to work out and then get ready for work without a commute in between. It was strictly cardio, so I ran my three miles and had a steam before dressing in one of my usual navy suits.

  I had my typical breakfast, consisting of black coffee before I got to the office and an egg and spinach omelet as I read emails. When nine o’clock rolled around, I had my meeting with the support staff that Jude never attended.

  Needless to say, my life had become a monotonous routine, or at least that was the case until the sudden shift with Hatchett that I still had no idea how to recover from.

  Jude always said I worried too much, but that’s because he never worried about anything. That might have been why we’d been friends and successful business partners for so long. The company was everything to both of us, even if Jude liked to pretend it wasn’t his pride and joy.

  In light of the ongoing crisis with Hatchett, I forced Jude to come to the next meeting. Whether he wanted to be there or not, I needed his support because the whole situation was driving me mad. I was even losing sleep, spending far too many hours watching the market as the numbers dropped, rose, held, and then dropped again.

  “I don’t know why you’re so worked up about this. It’ll blow over,” Jude said, once we’d dismissed the partners from our meeting.

  I paced the conference room, frustrated. The days never used to go like this. Previously, I would show up and work hard before taking off at the end of the day, sometimes with Jude if he wanted to go to the bar we frequented or to meet with women. Some of these women intuitively understood it would never go any further than just sex. Yet, Jude never exactly made these agreement entirely clear, and therefore sometimes had to deal with them not wanting to leave the following morning.

  Regardless, on this day, there had been nothing on my mind but the stock with that tech start-up.

  “And if it doesn’t?” I snapped. “We end up in the hole, our stock takes a dip, and then it becomes a fucking snowball effect!” I turned and eyed the whiskey, but it was too early for that.

  Jude rose and met me on the other side of the conference table. “Chill, Maverick. You’re giving me a headache.”

  The room over-looked the city, towering over the rest of the buildings. Jude and I had put hard work into this business, and I’d be damned if I let some weasel pull us out of it.

  “Right.” I leaned on the glass as I faced him, finding his permanent smirk in place and his eyes glinting. I could honestly never tell what he was thinking, but the two of us had been friends way too long to not be able to take a good guess. Looking at him, I knew that he’d done something out of the ordinary. I just didn’t know what it was yet.

  “Anyway, you’ve got to fix this mood because we have to interview someone for the asset lawyer position at one,” he said.

  I glanced at my watch. It was already past one. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

  “Martha just told her this morning because I honestly didn’t want to call anyone in until then,” Jude continued.

  I arched a brow. “You were around early in the morning?”

  He frowned. “Fuck you. Yes, I was. Anyway, this applicant—she graduated a year ago, but had a lot of internship experience. Really, I just want to know why no one else has hired her already. It doesn’t make sense to have that kind of resume and no job.”

  “She might not have been actively looking. Who is she?”

  “Henley Cates.”

  “What does she look like?” I cocked my head and held his gaze, but he met my stare with a killer poker face.

  “She might not even come, so don’t worry. She’s already late,” he said.

  I couldn’t imagine being late for an interview as big as this. Anyone in or near the industry knew we were the leading company alongside Hatchett. Our resume piles had their own room and even their own email address that we never checked. Our positions were elusive, hard to get, and harder to keep. “Has she known about it for a while?” I asked.

  “Well, since this morning when I decided to call her in.”

  I paused, shooting him a look. “I’m sorry, but did you just say told someone about an interview just hours before they had to show up?” I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

  Jude shrugged and adjusted his cuff links. “I wanted to see how she did under pressure.” He checked his million-dollar watch. “And, so far, she’s not doing very good.”

  I shook my head, thinking about how hard-pressed Jude could be sometimes, which was common knowledge around here. Our employees had learned their way around it a while ago though, so I had to give this new applicant props for even trying to make it under such a ridiculously short notice. I had to admit though, I didn’t know any of the modern job-search struggles since I’d never had to do it.

  “Whatever, man. Where is she?” I asked.

  Just then, there was a knock at the door, ending our conversation.

  She had arrived.

  Jude rounded the desk and looked
out the glass window, although nothing was visible but a shadow and a flash of red.

  When I finally saw her, I wasn’t at all prepared.

  Jesus.

  First of all, I could tell she’d been in a rush; I hadn’t seen flats like that on anyone but Martha, and she was forty-seven.

  Sitting across from us, the young woman’s gray eyes were wide and helpless, and the red bun on top of her head was falling apart.

  This Henley Cates—with her around, I knew I would never get any work done. And neither would Jude, for that matter. He never even interviewed people like this. Yet, here she was, looking like beauty personified. A breath of fresh air.

  With her soft wide eyes, full peachy lips, swells of her breasts peeking through her white chiffon top—she was just beautiful. And, from the looks of her resume, smart too. It didn’t take away from anything, but I could tell she was nervous and maybe a little uncomfortable, though I blamed that on Jude and his alluding questions.

  “Do you always arrive late to important meetings?” he asked bluntly.

  Henley’s cheeks flushed red as she wrung her fingers out from under the clear table. “No, I don’t. I was…” she blinked rapidly and swallowed. “No, I don’t.”

  I cleared my throat. “Your work with other investment firms looks bright. What did you learn that you think you could apply here?” I asked.

  She blinked a few times. “Well I…I learned a lot of basic skills with business law and corporate law, but I um…” Henley’s voice trailed off and she seemed to draw a blank. Her gaze fleeted to Jude and then quickly back to me, letting me know that he’d probably given her some sort of look. “I got really good at being self-sufficient and could anticipate things no one else saw,” she finished.

  “Like what?” Jude pressed, leaning forward across the table, not caring that his proximity made her uncomfortable.

  She licked her lips. “Like…if the market was dropping, and I knew the firm could lose money, I would start looking for ways to pull out early,” she said and then fixed her gaze on Jude. “To protect the company’s assets.”