She approaches the table, and I stand, suddenly uncertain how to act around her. What I really want to do is kiss her until she makes those little sounds that drive me crazy. In public, though, I don’t think I can maul her. It’s not just the Cartwright reputation—I really don’t give a rat’s ass who sees me with her. But she’s dressed for the office, and I’m not sure what her comfort level is with PDA.
“Hey,” I say, pulling her to me for a hug.
That seems safe. We’re friends. Friends hug.
Except she’s stiff in my arms.
When I release her, she has the oddest expression. “Hey, Josh. Thank you for meeting me.”
And she’s oddly formal.
I want to ask her why she’s being distant, but almost immediately, the same waitress we had before comes up and hands us menus while smacking her gum. “Two coffees,” I say, even though I don’t want any. Evie nods her assent, and we both silently watch the waitress slump away, fill two diner mugs, and return, plunking them down on our table. I think neither one of us wants to start talking and be interrupted by the waitress.
But now that she’s gone, and we’re alone, I have to know. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” Is she having reservations about what happened between us this weekend?
Toying with the handle of the mug, she looks up at me, and those gray eyes make me want to do all the things. Repeatedly. Not just what we already did. More. Judging by the look on her face, though, we’re not doing that any time soon.
She doesn’t sip her coffee and instead asks, “Did you talk to any of my partners at the party on Saturday?”
I don’t drink my coffee either. “Yeah, I spoke with Waller and his wife. His wife and my mom are old friends. I’m sure I spoke to a few other partners that night too.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You made quite an impression on him. Now they’ve asked me to give you this.” And she pulls a long, thin envelope out from her case. “It’s an engagement letter. My firm would like to take on your representation.”
I’m thrilled. I have law firm representation. Finally, I can get moving on these business plans. But it takes me time to process, and I realize there’s a big problem here. Especially once I see her downcast expression. “If I’m your client, can I still see you? I mean, the way I saw you this weekend.”
She shakes her head slowly. “See, that’s the issue. Lawyers are not supposed to be”—her voice drops—“sexually involved with their clients. It’s highly unethical. We technically didn’t breach any rules because you weren’t my client when this started, but the rule is in place so that being with you doesn’t cloud my legal judgment. A lawyer has a fiduciary duty to her client. This means that the client’s needs are placed first, above her own. And—”
I interrupt her. “I’ll find another firm. I’d rather be with you. I like what we’ve started. I can find another lawyer, that’s no big deal.” Maybe Drew has come through for me already.
“Do you really want to go through this all over again? Contacting strangers and showing them your blog? Revealing your identity without a guarantee they won’t disclose who you are? Because I won’t screw you over, Josh. You know I won’t tell anyone.”
Fuck. She has a point. And I do trust her.
I reach up and run my hands through my hair.
We’re both quiet, and when I finally look at her, she’s staring into her lap.
“I need the business. I need to generate clients,” she whispers. “Josh, I hate that this is part of my job. I hate that I have to time every interaction with every client on every phone call or negotiation. I hate that I can’t simply focus on the aspects of the job I’m good at, because I’ll be honest, dredging up new clients is torturous for me. I hate schmoozing and kissing ass. I’m not wired like that.”
Her solemn gray eyes glance up at me. “Taking you on means I’m moving toward partnership, which is what I’ve been busting my ass for since law school. It means doing something on my own and bringing in clients on my own.” She sits up taller. “I know I can handle your work. Contracts are my specialty.”
A flare of anger flashes through my gut when her words settle in.
“So you want me to be a client. Just a client.”
She bites her lip. “I do.”
“And you don’t want to see me again?” I ask, even though she’s already told me in so many words.
Letting out her breath, she looks down at the table, then up again. “I had an incredible time with you. Of course I want to see you. But we can’t do this. I can’t be that attorney who sleeps with her client. Maybe after we complete your work,” she says, her brows furrowed. “What you and I have is new, and after all the drama that happened this weekend, I’m worried I’m rushing into something neither of us is prepared for. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am now, and you’re amazing, Josh. You are. I’m sure I’ll be kicking myself in the morning, but I want to play it safe.”
She shakes her head, and I’m not sure, but I think I see tears welling in her eyes that she shuts down fast. Taking a deep breath, she says, “I’m not spontaneous like that. I don’t just dive off cliffs, and this is a cliff. A big one. One I’m not sure I can leap off of right now. Not with so much at stake.”
From being elated this morning, I am now flat. I have a lawyer, which is what I wanted. But I don’t have the girl.
Fuck.
I can’t do it, though. I can’t take this opportunity away from her. Even though it’s crushing all of the fantasies I’ve had since I met her.
Fantasies that were coming true.
My job means a lot to me too. I understand how she’s focused on her career. I’m not going to get in the way.
“Do you have a pen?”
Pulling one out of her case, she hands it to me, and I sign. Thankfully, the engagement letter just says generically, “Business advice regarding development of popular social media platform.” Not, “Legal advice for weirdo who takes pictures of his dick and posts them on the internet.”
“I’ll send you the proposed contract and have the prototype mold kit sent to you.”
“That would be great,” she says quietly. She slips the engagement letter into her case and glides out of the booth. Then she looks me in the eyes. “I’m happy for you, Josh. We’re going to get you a great contract, and I’m going to work hard to ensure everything turns out well for you.”
She holds out her hand for me to shake.
Well, fuck.
I return the gesture, one that feels like a kick to my gut.
After a few minutes, I throw down a twenty to pay for two untouched coffees and go back to the office, not sure what just happened.
At about seven at night, Drew buzzes my home and barges in. “I brought you a meat stick,” Drew says, “not that you need another one, happy guy.” He opens his mouth to talk, but then catches the look on my face. “Holy fuck, what happened to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I mutter and hand him a beer.
But for the next two hours, I do talk about it. I tell him how she’s my attorney and how we hooked up when she wasn’t. And how I’m completely disgusted with myself.
Maybe I should have insisted on finding another attorney. Even though she was so fucking distant.
But no. I couldn’t do that to her. This means too much to her.
Guess I just wish I meant something to her too.
14
Evie