“Thank you,” I tell her, then take a delicious, icy sip. I swallow and decide to ask him something I’ve wanted to know for a while now. “How come you looked so annoyed and put off when you saw me in the law firm the first time?”
His eyes widen slightly, but I don’t miss the action. “Because after we met on the street, I kept smiling to myself. And I really wanted to take you out for coffee. But when I saw you in the office, I knew that I couldn’t cross that professional line. So I was really annoyed, not at you, just at the situation.”
Oh.
I swallow hard, not sure what to say to that. Lucky for me, he changes the subject.
“Logan was asking about you last night,” he says, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s almost like the kid has his first crush.”
“He’s so cute,” I tell him, smiling. “He’s going to be a little heartbreaker, I thought that from the first moment I saw him.”
“He’s a good kid,” he says, peeling the label off his beer. “Laura struggles a little without her mom, but we’re all doing the best we can. Logan was so young when Beth passed away, but Laura remembers her. I don’t know which one is worse, to be honest.”
I don’t know either.
You can’t miss something you don’t remember, but then again, loving memories are worth their weight in gold. It goes back to the whole “’Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.”
“I grew up without my mother,” I admit to him. “Completely different circumstances, but it was just me and my dad, and I turned out all right. So will Laura—she’s a strong-willed girl; she’s going to be a little spitfire.”
“Where was your mom?” he asks me in a gentle tone.
“She was a drug addict,” I explain, avoiding his curious gaze. “She was in and out of my life whenever she felt like it, but mostly out. Sometimes I’d go years without seeing her. My dad was the only constant in my life.”
“Was?”
“Yeah, he passed away about five years ago,” I say, pain in my chest at the reminder. “He was the manager of a restaurant, and someone held him up at gunpoint. He gave them all the money in the till, but they shot him afterward anyway.”
It was a really hard time for me. My father was my rock, and without him I had no one. I still have no one. I have some friends whom I love and am close to, but that’s about it.
“I’m sorry, Kat,” Tristan murmurs, sadness laced in his tone. “Is the man who shot him behind bars?”
I nod, and lift my head up. “He is.” I take a deep breath and then admit. “Actually, it was Jaxon who put him away, when he was a prosecutor. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come work for your firm when it opened.”
He reaches out and touches my small hand with his large one. “I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m glad the asshole is in prison. You’ve clearly been through a lot, but look at you. You should be proud of everything you’ve achieved all by yourself, and you’re only climbing higher.”
His words are sweet, but all I can feel is his hand on mine, electricity passing between us. I lick my suddenly dry lips, my mouth parched. He shouldn’t be touching me, and I shouldn’t be liking it. It’s an innocent touch, yes, but it’s just a taste of something I’m curious about. Something I know I want, something I’ve been trying to suppress from the moment I laid my eyes on him.
It’s me who pulls away first, and luckily the food arrives and provides a distraction.
We both eat in silence, a palpable tension brewing between us.
I don’t know what it means, but I’m going to pretend it’s not there.
Ignorance truly is bliss.
And so is denial.
chapter 9
I SLIDE OFF MY PUMPS and leave them at the front door, then walk through my apartment barefoot, my aching feet hurting with each step. It’s finally the weekend, and I get to relax and recuperate. I almost jump out of my skin when I see Callie sitting on my couch, a jug of something alcoholic on her lap, a giant straw in her mouth.
“That key is for emergencies,” I tell her, but grin at the same time. She’s wearing unicorn pajamas, complete with a horn hoodie, and looks absolutely ridiculous.
“This was an emergency,” she says, pointing to her jug. “I wanted to make some Long Island iced tea, but needed a few extra ingredients, and I was already in my pj’s so I couldn’t go to the store.”
“But you still had to walk up to my apartment in them,” I point out, sitting down next to her and smelling the strong cocktail. “Are you sure you put the right amount of alcohol in that?”
“Of course I’m sure,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “If my law career doesn’t work out, I should be a bartender. I’d be a great one.”
“Well, you have enough experience,” I tease her, lifting my legs up on the table. “I’m dead. Had such a long day.”
“I’d give you a foot massage if the idea of feet didn’t make me want to throw up,” she states, wide brown eyes on me.
“It’s the thought that counts,” I say, yawning. “I’m surprised you’re not out and about.”
Callie is a bit of a party animal. She works hard but parties harder. She loves getting all dolled up and having a night out dancing; she has a bit of a wild streak in her that many men have tried to tame, and failed. I met her in my first year of law school. We were paired together for a project and just clicked. We’ve had each other’s backs since then.
“Thought I’d come and see you, it feels like we haven’t spent any time together in forever,” she says, pouting her bottom lip.
“I know,” I agree, snuggling closer to her. “Work has been hectic. How was your week?”
“Same old,” she says, taking a sip of her cocktail. “I’m essentially just a well-dressed slave. I do all the filing and research, and sometimes get to sit in on a deposition. I can’t wait for the bar results so I can actually handle my own cases.” Callie scored a similar position as me in another law firm, one that specializes in family law.
“Give me some of that,” I tell her, taking a sip from her straw. She definitely got the alcohol ratio wrong, because all I can taste is tequila. “I think you have a drinking problem.”
“I’m a lawyer,” she says with an impish grin. “I feel like that’s allowed.”
I laugh at her, then turn on the TV, just wanting to zone out.
Perhaps a night in with Callie is just what I need.
MY PHONE RINGS EARLY the next morning, and as I lift my head to look for it I can tell that I drank way too much last night by the ringing in my ears and the pounding in my head.
Goddammit.
I find my phone under the pillow, my eyes widening when I see Tristan’s name pop up. Is he at work on a Saturday? It wouldn’t surprise me; maybe he needs something. “Hello?” I say into the line, trying to keep my voice as chirpy as possible. He doesn’t need to know I drank two jugs of some dodgily-prepared cocktail with my friend last night and that I’m now suffering the hangover from hell. He also doesn’t need to know I fell asleep butt naked and my hair is in a giant nest sitting atop my head.
“Kat,” he rumbles down the line, and I can instantly tell that something’s not right.
“What’s wrong?” I quickly ask, whole body on alert.
“I know I shouldn’t be calling, and it’s completely inappropriate, but . . .” He trails off, and I can tell he really does not want to be calling me right now. But he is, and I need to know what the hell is going on.
“Tell me,” I demand.
“I’m at the hospital. Logan got a fever last night,” he starts to explain, worry clear in his tone. “He’s doing better now, but they want to keep him here to run some tests. He, uh . . . He’s, um . . . He’s asking for you.”
“He’s asking for me?” I repeat, warmth filling me. I slide my feet out of the be
d, getting ready to jump in the shower. I can’t show up at the hospital smelling like alcohol and bad decisions.
“Yeah, he is,” Tristan says, sounding a little sad. “He insisted, as a matter of fact. He drew you a picture and is asking me to give it to you. I know it’s the weekend, and you probably have plans or—”
“Tristan,” I say, cutting him off. “Text me the hospital and room number. I’ll leave my house in ten.”
I hear him exhale. In relief? “Thank you, Kat.”
“See you soon,” I tell him, then hang up the phone.
I quickly brush my teeth and jump in the shower, washing my body with my favorite pomegranate body wash. Drying off with a fluffy white towel, I throw it on my bed and get dressed in jeans and a black tank top. I slide on some sneakers, put some cream on my face, and grab my bag as I head out, only seven minutes later. After checking my phone, I realize the hospital Logan’s at is the one close to my apartment, so I know the way there like the back of my hand. Not wanting to show up empty-handed, I stop at a large toy store and grab him a stuffed animal from his favorite movie, Hercules, then make my way to the hospital. Once I find a parking spot, I head upstairs to his room.
Knocking softly on the door, I open it when I hear Logan say, “Come in.”
I step inside, smiling at the little man lying on the center of the bed, dressed in blue pajamas. “Hello, how are you feeling?”
“Okay,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to the gift bag in my hands. “What did you bring?”
I smile and hand him the bag. “I brought you a ‘get better’ present.”
He sits up and grins. “Dad said you were going to come.”
“If you want me here, of course I’ll be here.” I tell him, watching as he pulls out the soft toy and gives it a tight hug.
“Thank you, I love it,” he tells me, grinning.
Up close I can see that his skin is paler than usual, and clammy-looking. The poor thing must have been fighting off a fever all night. “You’re very welcome. Where’s your dad?”
“Talking to one of the doctors,” he tells me. “He said he’ll be back in a minute.”
“I see,” I murmur, sitting down on the chair next to his bed. “And where’s Laura?”
“She’s with Anne,” Logan says, yawning. His hair is all messy, and I lean over and gently run my fingers through it.
“At least there’s a TV in here,” I say as I glance at the screen. I look to the side of his bed. “And lots of books too.”
“It’s not so bad, I guess,” he replies, smiling up at me. “I drew you a picture, Kat. It’s of a cat.”
He waves a piece of paper in his hand. I take it from him and smile as I see a round cat with large whiskers.
“I love it,” I tell him.
“Why didn’t you come back to watch more movies?” he asks, a now serious look on his face.
“I was only helping while your nanny was sick,” I explain, feeling a tenderness toward him that I didn’t expect. “But maybe we can work out a time every month where we can hang out, if it’s okay with your dad. What do you think?”
He nods eagerly. “I like that. Anne is boring. You’re way more fun to hang out with. You watch movies with us, and let us eat junk food, and laugh at my jokes.”
“Who wouldn’t laugh at your jokes? They’re hilarious,” I say.
“See,” he says, bringing the Hercules toy to his chest. “I wish you were our nanny.”
“I’m not a nanny, Logan,” I tell him gently, leaning forward, my elbows on my knees. “I have the same job as your dad, but I’m new, so I need to work really hard to show everyone that I can be a good worker.”
“Yeah, okay,” he grumbles, expelling a deep sigh just as the door opens and Tristan walks in.
“Kat,” he says, eyes gentling as he takes us both in.
“Hey,” I say to him, then look back to Logan. “Your son is telling me that I should be his nanny. Apparently I’ve made a terrible career choice.”
“You have.” Logan nods, hair flopping on his face.
“I don’t even know any other kids besides you and your sister,” I admit to him. “I wouldn’t know what to do with kids. I think I’d be a terrible nanny.”
He shakes his head. “Nope, you’d be fun. We could build blanket forts and eat burgers.”
I laugh at that. “I do like a good blanket fort.”
Tristan sits on the other side of Logan’s bed and mouths the words thank you to me. I smile at him. He doesn’t need to thank me. I don’t know why Logan took such a liking to me, in fact I have absolutely no idea, but the kid is growing on me too. I meant what I said to him. If he wants me to be here, then that’s where I’ll be. I don’t see how anyone could say no to that face.
“Will you read me one of these books, Kat?” Logan asks, eyes silently pleading with me.
“Sure thing,” I tell him, grabbing the one on top of the pile and opening it to the first page. I start to read and I can feel Tristan’s gaze on me the entire time. He looks disheveled, hair a mess and dressed in gray sweatpants with a black T-shirt. I’m not used to seeing him in anything other than a crisp suit, looking the part of a lawyer, but now he looks approachable. Like any other sexy-as-hell dad.
A DILF, even.
I think I might like him like this better than in the suits.
I concentrate on the words, on Logan, and try not to glance back at Tristan again even though I can feel him in the room. Even though I want to check him out in those gray sweatpants, and maybe even drop my gaze a little to see if I can maybe see the outline of anything . . .
Shit.
How inappropriate am I?
I’m reading a children’s book, in front of his son, who is the one who wanted me here, not Tristan, and I’m thinking about what’s underneath his sweatpants.
It’s official.
I’m going to hell.
chapter 10
A NURSE BRINGS IN LOGAN’S lunch, which doesn’t look appealing whatsoever. Logan agrees, judging by the expression on his face.
“If you need to go and do anything, I’m happy to stay here with him,” I tell Tristan, wondering if he has work, or if Laura is okay.
“Are you sure?” he asks me, and I nod. I wonder if he has any other family, or anyone who gives him a hand when he’s in a tight spot with the kids, because it doesn’t look like it. “I might just go pick up Laura and bring her here so she can see Logan. I stayed here overnight last night and she’s been at home with Anne.”
“Go ahead,” I encourage. “I won’t leave his side. I had nothing planned today, so I’m not in any rush to leave.”
“I’ll bring you some lunch,” he tells me. “You must be getting hungry, and the café food here is terrible.”
“That’d be nice.”
He reaches out and touches my bare arm. “Seriously, Kat, thank you. You didn’t have to come here, and you sure as hell aren’t obligated to help, but I’m so grateful that you’re here. My family all lives across the country, so I don’t really have anyone to call when I’m in an emergency other than Jaxon, but he has his own problems right now.”
“It’s fine, Tristan,” I assure him, glancing over to Logan. “He’s a great kid.”
“He is,” he agrees, gently squeezing my arm before putting some space between us. “I’ll be back soon, Logan. I’m just going to pick up your sister and get some food.”
Logan glances down at his plate and says, “Can you bring me some too? Because, Dad, this looks . . .”
“I’ve got it covered, son,” he says, kissing Logan’s forehead. “I love you. Kat is going to stay with you, so look after her for me, okay?”
“Of course,” he replies, grinning up at his father.
Boom!
That sound?
That’s the sound of my ovaries expl
oding.
I didn’t even think I liked or wanted kids up until this moment, but Logan makes it hard to not want to have another three just like him. Tristan smiles at me on his way out, and I wait until he leaves before I turn to Logan. “I wonder if they sell board games at the gift store.”
I don’t want to leave him alone though, even for ten minutes, so I ask a passing nurse if it’s okay to take him with me to the gift store and back.
“No problem,” she tells me. “It’s just one floor down, so I don’t see why not.”
“Great,” I tell her, then look to Logan. “Come on, I’m going to carry you down one flight of stairs, and then we’re going to choose a few games to play.”
“I vote for Connect Four,” he says, smiling and sitting up. He lifts his arms for me to carry him. “Are you sure you can lift me? I’m heavy, and you’re kind of small.”
I’m a little on the petite side, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to lift him. “Well, I’m going to try.”
He stands on the bed, and I lift him into my arms.
“I think I can manage,” I tell him as he wraps his arms around me. “You ready for this little adventure?”
“Yep,” he replies, sounding cheerful. “I’m ready.”
We leave the room, him holding on to me for dear life, and me doing the same.
It’s a moment I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
“I WIN,” I TELL Tristan, a smirk playing on my lips. “It feels so good to beat you at something, even if it’s just Connect Four.”
“How do you know I didn’t let you win?” he asks, arching a brow at me. He then turns to Laura and winks at her. “I let girls win sometimes, don’t I, Laura?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s true. I’ve caught him letting me win before, and I told him not to do it. It’s a little condescending.”
Laughter escapes me. “That’s hilarious, but that’s not what happened this time. I won, fair and square, and now I have bragging rights.”
Breaching the Contract Page 5
