Wrong for You (Before You #3)(9)
“Law school,” she answered, dabbing her lips with a brown napkin. “I come from a long line of small town lawyers. My parents want me to join their practice and be the third Emerson.”
“Huh?”
“Right now their firm is called Emerson and Emerson after my mom and dad. If I went to law school and joined their practice, they promised to change the name to Emerson, Emerson and Emerson.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m serious.”
His lips shaking, he nibbled on his lip ring.
She tossed a french fry at him. “Go ahead and laugh. I know it’s a silly name.”
“It seems like there should a better way to capture all three names without sounding so…redundant.”
She raised her eyebrows. “But then each of us wouldn’t get the recognition we deserved. Being a named partner is a big deal.”
“You really believe that?”
“Nope. I don’t care, but it was my mom and dad’s latest carrot to lure me into law school.”
“Are you going to go?” He took a drink of his soda, watching her face from beneath his lashes.
“I don’t know. Being a lawyer is their dream, not mine.”
“And what’s your dream?” He leaned back against the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at his ankles.
“For as long as I can remember, I wanted to make a difference in kids’ lives. At first I thought that meant being a teacher, but then I volunteered at the Foundation as a tutor and I was hooked. I’ve been here for six years, if you include my volunteer work before I graduated from college, but now…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s wearing on me.”
“How?”
“I’m okay if I can’t afford the best clothes, the best car, or other things, but I like to eat and pay my bills and that’s barely feasible anymore.” She bit on her lower lip, her lashes lowered. “I feel like a quitter because these kids have it so much worse than me, but still…”
She looked down without continuing her sentence, but Alec understood what she meant. He was one of those kids who barely had food on the table and lived with an alcoholic mom. If their house hadn’t been paid off with their dad’s insurance policy, he would have spent his childhood on the streets or in foster care. “You aren’t greedy for wanting to have a life.”
Avoiding his gaze, she exhaled loudly, playing with the top button of her white blouse. “Conceptually, I understand that, but sometimes I can’t convince myself and I feel guilty for putting my needs ahead of these kids who have so little. I volunteered at the Foundation because it fulfilled my internship for my social work degree, but after a day, I loved it. I thought I’d found my calling, but now I’m not so sure.”
He leaned across the desk and tipped up her chin so he could see her eyes again. They were innocent and full of life. He hated that she was hiding them from him. “You’re a good person, Violet. Don’t beat yourself up if you decide you need more stability. Everybody deserves stability. There are other ways to help. You don’t need to starve to prove you care.”
“I know.” Moving her chin away from his touch, she smiled, but her eyes were flat and lifeless instead of dancing with humor. She stood up and tossed the rest of her food in the trashcan next to her desk. “I’m going to get ready for the afternoon. The kids will arrive in less than an hour.”
He didn’t want her to leave and that thought screwed with his head. One part of him begged to get to know her and find out what made her sad, happy, and everything in between. The other part of him knew it could never happen. He couldn’t let her or anyone else into his life. It was better that way. He wasn’t good for any other woman, especially one as innocent and good as Violet.
Chapter Five
“Hey, where are you going?” Alec said as Violet came out her front door early Saturday morning, purple backpack strapped around both of her shoulders with double holstered water bottles peeking out of the white mesh pockets on either side.
Violet turned around, a big smile on her clean, makeup-free face, her long blonde hair scraped away from her face in a high ponytail. She wore khaki shorts and a white tank top. Damn, she was beautiful. He’d been avoiding being alone with her as much as possible this past week, trying to bury his attraction to her, but he craved her voice and her smile.
“Where does every self-respecting Montana native go on the weekends during the middle of July?” she asked, raising one of her pale blonde eyebrows.
Now that was one question he couldn’t answer. Growing up, his family was anything but normal. In his house, weekends, regardless of the month, meant trying to weed through the throngs of people passed out on the living room floor and then he spent the afternoon cleaning up beer cans, cups, and, sadly, vomit. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
She laughed, tilting her head to the side. “Are you sure you’re from Montana? You said you were, but now I’m not so sure.”
“I can assure you I was born and raised here, but I still don’t know where you’re headed. Why don’t you come here and give me a hint?” He crooked his finger, signaling for her to come closer.