He sighed again. “You’re really good at this lawyer shit, Sayer. If I haven’t said it enough, thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I put a hand over my eyes and squeezed my temples with my fingers. His words pulled at so many different parts of me. I could feel those emotions that he called to pushing at all the things I tried to keep them tied down with.
“I’m happy to help. It’s not often I know for a fact that the parent fighting so hard for custody is the absolute right choice for the child. We are doing the right thing here, and you just have to have faith that the court and the powers that be will see it. One battle at a time, Zeb. That’s all we can tackle, okay?”
He was quiet for a long moment, but I could hear him breathing and then finally he grunted a little bit and replied, “Well, then the battle I need to tackle right now is those god-awful walls. Thank you for talking me off the ledge. It’s impossible not to hope for the best when I talk to you.”
Maybe it was the overwhelming quiet of my house or it was the wistfulness in his voice. Or maybe it was the fact that no matter how hard I tried to keep a clear divide between the two of us, I was always going to be too eager to cross over it when an opportunity presented itself.
Like a goddamn fool.
Calling myself every kind of name for fool there was in the book, I blurted out, “I’m not doing anything tonight, and Poppy went out with Rowdy, so if you need an extra set of hands to help with the paint I can swing by the house.” I wanted to groan. I was the least handy person in the whole world and I don’t think I had ever even held a paintbrush, but the idea of getting to spend some one-on-one time with him was just so tempting that I ignored all of that and secretly hoped he would ignore it, too.
He chuckled a little. “Are you serious?”
I shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “Sure. Why not?”
“Well, I’m not going to turn down free labor, especially when that free labor looks like you. Do you even own anything that you won’t be pissed to get paint on, Say? What I do tends to get dirty.” His voice dropped a little bit and there was a husky timbre to the words that made me shiver.
There was a double entendre there that was impossible to miss and it made all of my skin heat up from the inside out. Not to mention no one had ever shortened my name before. I wasn’t exactly the cutesy nickname type. My father wouldn’t have approved and as such I was always just “Sayer.” Zeb’s shortening of my name felt intimate. It felt far more familiar than I should be allowing myself to get with him. Still I didn’t say anything other than “I’m sure I can find something. I’ll change and head over.”
He told me thank you again and I was eternally grateful no one was around to witness the way I ran up the stairs so fast that I tripped, or the way I started pawing through all the clothes in my closet like a deranged person. Things fell off of hangers and off of shelves, ending up in piles on the floor that got tangled around my feet and had me tripping all over again. Finally, out of desperation, because I really didn’t own anything that was worn out or already stained, I decided that what I wore to the gym would have to be good enough. I left on my stretchy yoga pants that I had changed into after work and added a tank with a built-in bra—both were colored a sedate gray—and shoved my feet into my running shoes. Those were black with hot-pink stripes on the sides. Overall it was as boring and uninteresting as the stuff I wore to the office, but at least I wouldn’t cry if I had to throw any of it out if it ended up paint spattered and ruined.
I yanked all of my hair into a messy braid at the back of my head and practically ran out the front door. I told myself to calm down the entire drive over, lectured myself sternly that appearing this eager and excited to see him outside of CASA or my office would send the wrong message. I could be his lawyer and his friend. I was strong enough, my heart cool enough from the deep freeze I kept it in, to put all the heavier, denser things I felt for him to the side and simply enjoy some casual time in his company while I offered a helping hand. I was just a friend helping out another friend.
Yeah, right. I wasn’t buying it, which meant Zeb would see right through me.
Despite the embarrassment that my out-of-control hormones were bound to cause, I strolled past his gigantic Jeep with my head held high and my breath trapped deep in my lungs. The front door was propped open and there was light and music coming from somewhere inside the house.