I start to smile, but then he cuts me off. “Why are you moving out east? We can work this out. We’ll deal with whatever bullshit legal red tape you have to face together. All you did was get me a kick-ass contract with Caligula. You did nothing wrong. I’ll testify to that if I have to.” He wipes away my errant tears. “You’re my girl, and I’m not going anywhere. At least not without you.”
He leans down to kiss me, and I let him, my heart kicking into overdrive when his lips touch me. I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck, except I’m yanked to the side.
Josh catches me before I can fall over, and we both stop to stare at the culprit. My dog barks and howls and does a little dance to celebrate finally getting Josh’s attention.
“Chauncey was depressed without you.” I laugh.
Josh turns to me and brushes his nose against mine. “Not as depressed as I was without you.” He kisses me gently. “Let’s go home.”
I’m not sure if he means my home or his, and I don’t care as long as we’re together. But there’s one thing I want to be clear about. “I’m serious about quitting the firm, Josh.”
He shrugs. “I’ll find you something better.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need your help, but I would like some company as I figure it out.”
A smile lifts his lips. “As long as I’m there for the ride.”
37
Josh
“Anything you need to do before you go?” I whisper into her sweet-smelling hair. It’s disheveled, stuck up on one side and flattened on the other, but she looks adorable. Her hairstyle goes perfectly with her unconventional choice of footwear, which I goddamn love.
I take Chauncey’s leash from her and crouch down to scratch under his velvet ears. He thumps his tail on the office floor, easily content. I look up. A fluorescent light buzzes over us, while photos of Malcolm Waller and his wife arm-in-arm with politicians judge us from the walls. “Or can we just get out of here?”
In the last few minutes, Evie seems lighter, her face at ease, and a twinkle brightening her striking eyes. She stands up straighter, taller, even in those ridiculous slippers, which make her feet cartoonish, like Minnie Mouse’s. But she’s smiling like I’ve never seen her smile before.
My smile matches hers, and I feel the same way. Elated. Giddy. Fuck the world, we’re in it together.
“I just need to grab a few things from my office,” she says. “My diplomas. My lucky purple pen. My framed picture of Norm Abram.”
I cross over to her and lift her chin. The dusting of freckles on her cheeks catches my attention, and I kiss three of them in a row. “Do you really have a framed picture of Norm Abram? The guy from This Old House?”
She giggles and nods, looking younger, lighthearted, animated. “He’s my hero. Well, one of them. I have Tom Silva, the contractor, too. Signed.” She wiggles her eyebrows, pleased with herself, and I fall even more in love with her quirky, DIY self. She spins and heads to the door, then calls over her shoulder, “Come with me.”
I follow her down the Shutter Island gray hall of her law firm, past cubicles and lawyer’s offices, holding her dog’s leash. Evie marches out like she’s a drum major in the Grand Floral Parade, not giving a damn that everyone is staring at her, but pretending not to. Office chatter ceases as she saunters down the corridor. They don’t know what they’re losing with her. I’m the one who’s winning.
What a fucking win.
We round the corner, and her fine ass in tight, ripped, paint-splattered jeans heads to her former workspace. When we get to a dark corner at the end of the hall, she gestures at an open door next to a vacant corner office. I’ve never been to it, always meeting her in a conference room so we could be above-board.
“This is mine,” she says. “Or it was.” She flips the lights, which splutter and then flicker on.
I follow her in, and she motions to her dog to sit. Chauncey settles himself into a corner as I look around. Like her home when I first met her, she hasn’t moved in entirely. Two diplomas are nailed to the wall, and papers and files litter the desk and a credenza. There’s not much else. Just a desk with a computer and an office chair. But she does have signed photos of the cast of This Old House on a side table. I stifle a laugh.
A dark-haired woman with a friendly, but concerned face pokes her head in the doorway. “Is it true?” she asks.
Evie smiles at her and stacks the framed photos on her desk. “Yes, Penny. It’s true. I quit.”
Penny’s eyes widen, and she whispers, “Good for you. I wish you the best. You’re better than this place.” Then she looks at me. “Is he the guy?”
“This is Josh, my boyfriend.”
“He’s gorgeous,” she blurts.
“Thank you,” I say and shove my hands in my pockets.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Penny says to Evie with a reassuring smile, and hands her a plastic container of cookies.
Evie walks over to give her a hug, says goodbye, and shuts the door firmly behind her, locking it. “There really isn’t anyone else I want to talk to. Let’s get this done.”
She strides over to lift the framed diplomas off the walls, and in a half-step, I close the distance between us and come up behind her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I nibble on her neck, breathing in her warmth. I give her a squeeze. Without thinking, my hands follow her hourglass curves, up her body. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart. So fucking much. I can’t wait to get you home,” I say against her skin. “Or maybe we keep that door closed and get reconnected here.”
Giggling, she pushes my hands down. “We’re in my office!”
Undeterred, I push her hair to the side and suck the pulse point on her neck, pressing my body against hers. My lips head for her earlobe, my hands smooth up her torso, cupping her breasts over her shirt. She moans. “Is anyone else going to interrupt?” I ask in between kisses. She arouses me like no other woman. The curves of her succulent body, the silk of her skin. Her scent, the way she reacts to my touch. I trail one hand down between her legs.
She shakes her head and presses her ass into my hardening dick. “Doubtful. I’m a pariah. Penny’s the only one not scared to talk to me. Everyone else thinks my crazy will rub off on them.”
“I like your crazy.” Now I’m sucking on her ear, and I take it between my teeth. Goosebumps erupt on her bare arms. “It’s my crazy now.”
She turns around and wraps her hands around my neck, pulling me to her. “I missed you too.” Her mouth seals to mine, claiming me, and I’m claiming her right back.
We belong together.
I lift her up, pink slippers and all, and push her against the wall, her legs around my waist, my hands supporting her butt. She wraps around me like a vine, kissing away the doubt, the confusion, the false concerns. And she’s filling me with her, with love. With her intelligent heart and thoughtful soul.
But goddamn, the friction of her jeans against my zipper is almost too much for me.
“Sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” she breathes.
“I’m fucking the footwear off you. Right. Now.” I set her down gently on the ground, grateful that the lone window along the opposite wall is tinted. She kicks off her slippers, and I unbutton her jeans. Chauncey snores in the corner.