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Authors: K. A. Tucker
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and she sued for wrongful dismissal. He doesn’t want to deal with that again. That’s why he has these rules. Rules that are meant to be followed.”
Mason is a rule follower, through and through. Black-and-white. That’s what will probably make him a very good lawyer. I’m a big “gray area” kind of guy, always looking for ways to bend and reinterpret the rules. That’s what will probably make me a damn fantastic lawyer.
“If it means anything to you at all . . . he thinks you’ve got a lot of promise, Ben, but he won’t think twice about firing you if he catches you screwing around with anyone,” Mason says.
Getting fired right out of law school would look terrible. Good luck finding another job in Miami after something like that, and I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future. My mama needs at least one of her children to stay close.
“And if he caught you with Reese . . .” Mason goes on, shaking his head.
Slapping my buddy over his shoulder, I promise, “Point made, and don’t worry. I told you, those days are over. Plus, something tells me that girl’s pride won’t let her give me the time of day.” Getting puked on isn’t something I strive for when I bring a girl back to my hotel room, but shit happens when you’re pounding booze. Hell, two weeks ago I was on a stage with Mercy’s thong on, my nut sac hanging out for all to see. Not one of my finer moments, but I’ll survive. Something tells me stuff doesn’t slide off Reese’s shoulders as fast, though. And maybe it’s not even the puking. I did watch her crawl naked across the floor, too. And I laughed at her while she was doing it. I don’t think most women would appreciate being laughed at in that situation. Even Kacey would probably beat me senseless, and she takes it like the best of them.
Mason’s mouth opens but he hesitates, a sour expression twisting his face. “What’d you do to her?”
I lift my hands in surrender. “It’s not about what I did to her. ”
He’s on his feet and marching forward, shaking his head. “Just don’t tease her, Ben. You’ll regret it.”
Shit. Not teasing her about this is going to be really hard for me, seeing as that’s what I do best. Besides, I owe her for not letting me shower in my own damn bathroom. “Hey,” I call out and ask on a hunch, “what’d you do to piss her off so bad?”
His feet slow and I hear his heavy sigh as he turns, a guilty look plastered across his face. “I said some stupid stuff about her father.”
Chapter 7
REESE
“You really should try the key lime. We’re famous for it,” the waitress suggests with a smile as she places my order for a slice of chocolate pecan pie in front of me.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I answer, just like I’ve answered a dozen times before, eyeing the perfectly intact pecan halves that decorate the top of my sliver. It isn’t easy, finding a chocolate pecan pie. Sure, everyone’s got a pecan pie on the menu. It’s the chocolate that makes it unique. The pie is the reason I started coming to the Bayside Café six months ago. Remembering my borderline obsession for this particular flavor, Jack introduced me to it. The place has quickly become my safe haven.
And since starting at Warner—only a few blocks away—I’m here several times a week. It has a beautiful waterfront patio with teakwood tables and royal-blue umbrellas, crammed with palm trees and plants of all sizes, enough to make it feel like a jungle that you can hide in, which is exactly what I’m doing tonight, with my newspaper crossword puzzle and a law textbook.
I couldn’t bear being in the office anymore. Natasha kept poking her head around my door, Ben in tow, asking for this deposition or that contract. And as much as I kept my eyes averted, I still managed to see him at least a dozen times today.
I’d be lying if I said that Ben’s not an extremely attractive guy. Now that I’m sober, I can attest to that wholeheartedly. My
Mason is a rule follower, through and through. Black-and-white. That’s what will probably make him a very good lawyer. I’m a big “gray area” kind of guy, always looking for ways to bend and reinterpret the rules. That’s what will probably make me a damn fantastic lawyer.
“If it means anything to you at all . . . he thinks you’ve got a lot of promise, Ben, but he won’t think twice about firing you if he catches you screwing around with anyone,” Mason says.
Getting fired right out of law school would look terrible. Good luck finding another job in Miami after something like that, and I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future. My mama needs at least one of her children to stay close.
“And if he caught you with Reese . . .” Mason goes on, shaking his head.
Slapping my buddy over his shoulder, I promise, “Point made, and don’t worry. I told you, those days are over. Plus, something tells me that girl’s pride won’t let her give me the time of day.” Getting puked on isn’t something I strive for when I bring a girl back to my hotel room, but shit happens when you’re pounding booze. Hell, two weeks ago I was on a stage with Mercy’s thong on, my nut sac hanging out for all to see. Not one of my finer moments, but I’ll survive. Something tells me stuff doesn’t slide off Reese’s shoulders as fast, though. And maybe it’s not even the puking. I did watch her crawl naked across the floor, too. And I laughed at her while she was doing it. I don’t think most women would appreciate being laughed at in that situation. Even Kacey would probably beat me senseless, and she takes it like the best of them.
Mason’s mouth opens but he hesitates, a sour expression twisting his face. “What’d you do to her?”
I lift my hands in surrender. “It’s not about what I did to her. ”
He’s on his feet and marching forward, shaking his head. “Just don’t tease her, Ben. You’ll regret it.”
Shit. Not teasing her about this is going to be really hard for me, seeing as that’s what I do best. Besides, I owe her for not letting me shower in my own damn bathroom. “Hey,” I call out and ask on a hunch, “what’d you do to piss her off so bad?”
His feet slow and I hear his heavy sigh as he turns, a guilty look plastered across his face. “I said some stupid stuff about her father.”
Chapter 7
REESE
“You really should try the key lime. We’re famous for it,” the waitress suggests with a smile as she places my order for a slice of chocolate pecan pie in front of me.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I answer, just like I’ve answered a dozen times before, eyeing the perfectly intact pecan halves that decorate the top of my sliver. It isn’t easy, finding a chocolate pecan pie. Sure, everyone’s got a pecan pie on the menu. It’s the chocolate that makes it unique. The pie is the reason I started coming to the Bayside Café six months ago. Remembering my borderline obsession for this particular flavor, Jack introduced me to it. The place has quickly become my safe haven.
And since starting at Warner—only a few blocks away—I’m here several times a week. It has a beautiful waterfront patio with teakwood tables and royal-blue umbrellas, crammed with palm trees and plants of all sizes, enough to make it feel like a jungle that you can hide in, which is exactly what I’m doing tonight, with my newspaper crossword puzzle and a law textbook.
I couldn’t bear being in the office anymore. Natasha kept poking her head around my door, Ben in tow, asking for this deposition or that contract. And as much as I kept my eyes averted, I still managed to see him at least a dozen times today.
I’d be lying if I said that Ben’s not an extremely attractive guy. Now that I’m sober, I can attest to that wholeheartedly. My
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