Great. Because today isn’t bad enough.
My humiliating one-night stand—a six-foot-three-ish smirking blond—is sitting in my chair, his feet propped up onto my desk, when I return from the bathroom.
Reese, zero. Universe . . . I hate you.
“Why are you still here?” It’s almost ten at night and, aside from Jack and Mason, everyone has gone home.
Making a point of opening and closing the two side drawers of my desk, he says, “I was looking for that beef jerky.”
“I ate it.” I push my door shut with my foot and toss my purse onto my desk.
His eyes roll lazily over me from head to toe, not even bothering to hide it. “I thought we should talk.” And then he abruptly slides his legs off and stands, giving me a full view of his solid frame, which I try not to get caught noticing. Ben doesn’t overdress—not like Mason, who would wear a three-piece suit to bed if it was considered appropriate—but he’s got one of those bodies that everything hangs from well.
We trade places, Ben wandering around to the front of my desk, while I keep my distance by circling around the other side to take a seat in my now vacant chair.
“I never told Kent about what happened in my hotel room. I let them think I scored.”
An odd sense of relief swarms me. And surprise. I figured Ben was the type to tell a good story at others’ expense. But . . .“Mason?” I’d imagine that the disgust I feel with the idea of my stepbrother having sex goes both ways. Fortunately, I’ve never seen him so much as second-glance a female.
Ben dismisses that with a slight wave. “Oh, he knows what really happened, but he won’t say a thing.”
“Oh my God!” I cry out, my previous relief burning up with the sudden fire in my cheeks. I lay my forehead down on the cool desk. Mason won’t say anything, my ass!
“Relax.” I hear footsteps approach and then a hand settles on the back of my neck. It has the opposite effect on me, my body going completely rigid. “I left out the part about the puking. And the crawling. I’m guessing you’re still a little sensitive about that.” I hear the humor in his voice. “How were you feeling the next day, anyway? You hit the ground pretty hard.”
“Now you’re concerned?” I spent the rest of my Cancún vacation with bruised knees and a cracked nail from where my toe must have caught the bed frame.
“I didn’t mean to laugh.” I look up in time to see a giant grin stretch out across his face, making his words hard to believe. “And if it’s any consolation, you have a phenomenal ass. I should know. I got a really good look at it.”
I groan inwardly. “Today’s not a good day for me, Ben.”
His hands lift in surrender. “Fair enough. I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” He rounds my desk again—it’s as if he’s circling his prey, but in a very casual, nonthreatening way—and stops in front of the personal pictures I’ve hung on the wall.
His finger swings to the picture of the rusted old blue Chevy. “What’s with you and vintage trucks?”
“I like them,” I say simply, not willing to elaborate further.
I quietly watch him evaluate things for another few minutes, until he suddenly asks, “Hey, do you want to go for lunch tomorrow? Seeing as you do a lot for Natasha and I’ll be working with her over the next few months, maybe we should start over.” He turns to peer at me with earnest blue eyes, his voice cracking under its sudden softness. “What do you say? Truce?”
Jack is always telling me that I need to make decisions based on common sense and not emotions. After spending a few weeks with Ben, my mortification will disappear.
Right?
So making peace with Ben now would be win-win.
Right?
I open my mouth.
And then I see that devilish twinkle and the corners of his mouth twitch. “They make extra-strong margaritas at Amigos, down the street. Just like you like them. I’ll bring a change of clothes, for after, of course.”
“Get out.” This is going to be hell.
“We could take a nice long crawl down the boardwalk, and then—”
“Fuck. Right. Off.” I hate him.
He grins, completely at ease, his attention grazing over my life-sized cardboard cutout of that stupid alien thing I ordered online a few weeks ago as a “fuck you” to Nelson, the annoying contracts lawyer down the hall. “Oh, come on, Reese. It’s not that big a deal. You need to learn how to laugh at yourself.”
Maybe if reality—in the form of a troll in a gingham dress—hadn’t just stuck its spike heel into my heart again, this wouldn’t bother me so much. But I walked in here already feeling pathetic. Now I’m beyond livid.
I feel the wicked smile stretch across my lips as I turn my attention to my monitor. “Enjoy your first few months here. I imagine June will be helping you out, seeing as her caseload is light. I think you’ll enjoy working with her.” He won’t. June talks to herself and has permanent pastrami breath. Her caseload is light because she’s every lawyer’s last pick. She’s slow as molasses.
He closes the distance until he’s hunched over the front of my desk, a frown flittering across his forehead. “I thought you were working for Natasha?”
Closing and piling Natasha’s case folders on top of each other, I push them to the edge, gesturing for Ben to pick them up. “Sorry, but Nelson came by earlier today, begging for my help, and I agreed. I’ll be tied up with him for the foreseeable future. Didn’t you know? I go where people need me the most.”
The thing I love most about Jack is that he has never assigned me to specific lawyers. He lets me go where the work is and my interests lie, treating me kind of like a freelance paralegal. I’m the only one who gets to do that and I’m pretty sure the other paralegals hate me for it, but I don’t care. I’m not here to make friends.
As irritating as Natasha can be, I tend to work with her most. She’s busy, her cases bring in a lot of money for the firm, and there’s usually a fight involved. I love a good fight.
When Natasha came by my desk this afternoon, she came ready to stroke my ego, telling me what a valuable asset I would be to her because she’s super busy and doesn’t have the extra time needed to help a new lawyer. Apparently the learning curve is steep and regardless of how smart Ben is—according to the chatter, he graduated near the top of his class—he’s in for a rude awakening.
And now, Nelson and I are going to be attached at the hip, whether he likes it or not. I’ve just decided.
“Huh.” Ben’s lip curls into a smirk. I think he just figured out what’s going on here. That he has royally fucked himself.
“But I’m sure you’ll do just fine without me, seeing as you’re so clever,” I offer with mock sincerity.
“I’m not worried, Reese. Disappointed. I think you would have enjoyed working with me.”
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I call out, “Close the door behind you.”
He leaves it wide open and strolls past my window, winking at me as he passes.