Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths, #4)(70)

Yeah, she’s definitely provoking me.

I bite my tongue against the irresistible urge to ask how her legs are after Sunday. No use giving her something worthy of a restraining order. “Well, it’s nice to see that Jared’s moving on from one crazy to another. Have a great day,” I exclaim with forced exuberance as I turn my back to her and walk away, my teeth gritted tightly.

I pull out my phone and hit number two on my speed dial.

“Reese? Are you okay?” Jack asks right away.

I frown, scanning the cars and pedestrians on the street. “Yeah . . .”

A deep exhale carries through the receiver. “Okay, good. I just thought . . . because you’re calling me,” he says with a chuckle. “You’re usually holed up in your office, hating everyone for another hour or two.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“So, what’s up?”

“You mentioned a little party for Ben and Mason?” It was official last week. Ben and Mason got their bar exam results and both passed. They’re now associate lawyers.

“I did. Why?”

The wheels of my devious brain are picking up speed. “I’m going to plan something for this Friday.”

“Well, Mrs. Cooke has already—”

I cut him off. “No, Jack. We’re not doing this in a church basement. I’ll find something good.” A casual bar, a relaxed situation. Neutral ground. Somewhere I can come and go as if I don’t give a shit.

And remind my ex-husband how much he misses me.

As soon as I’m off the phone with Jack, I message Jared.

I’ll be at The Grill on Friday night around eight, with friends. Casual.



After a moment, I add:

You may want to change your phone password. According to your lovely wife who I just ran into, you’re very predictable.





Chapter 22




BEN





T.G.I.F.

Every day seems to blend into the next around here. I guess I pushed my office door shut a little too hard because it slams, causing at least a dozen heads to pop up from cubicles like in that carnival groundhog game. I wave a lazy apology as I toss another folder down.

Damn, what I’d do to have Reese attached to me all hours of the day and night! I like working with her. No, I f*cking love working with her. Just having her around somehow makes everything more entertaining.

That’s why I’ve had to all but avoid her this week. And it sucks.

Jack is right: the girl just has a bewitching way about her. Idiots like me are doomed.

As I round my desk, I find a red gift bag sitting in my chair with bits of white tissue paper sticking out. After weeks of hiding in rooms and doing Natasha’s bidding, bar exam results were posted this week. Mason and I passed. I’m finally a real lawyer. I’m guessing this is some sort of congratulatory thing.

I rifle through it with curiosity to discover a folded note:

Congrats on becoming an official law bot.



In case the nickname didn’t give it away, I know by the messy chicken scratch that it’s from Reese. The woman has worse handwriting than any doctor I’ve ever met. I think it’s because she’s always rushing. Digging down farther, I pull out a bright red T-shirt that says: “I got puked on in Cancún and all I have to show for it is this ugly red shirt.”

I’m sure the entire floor can hear my bellow of laughter.

Damn, I love her sense of humor.

And I’m really disappointed when I find no one but the Rancor cutout in her office, her computer shut down already. I guess it’s not a big deal. I can thank her at the little after-work party they’re throwing for Mason and me tonight.

Still, I don’t even want to wait that long.



“Good pick,” I yell over the live band as my eyes roam the crowd at The Grill, resting on a couple of brunettes who have already noticed me and, by the small waves and winks, are not shy about making me aware of it.

“Reese arranged it all,” Mason admits with no small surprise in his tone, clanking his draft against mine. “Cheers. To being a real lawyer.”

“Where is the little minx, anyway?” The entire attorney staff, including Jack, are here tonight to celebrate. They have an area cordoned off for us, set with platters of food and a few tables. I’ve been doing the rounds for the last three hours, watching the clock and the door way too much.

“With Lina and Nicki. Lina just texted me to say they’d be here soon.”

“How’s that going? Is she the reason behind this whole ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ look you’ve got going on?” Mason has never been known for his keen fashion sense, but now he’s got new clothes and he’s styling his hair differently. He’s even wearing contacts. We used to ride his ass about those thick, dorky glasses he wore, but he refused to change them.

His cheeks brighten as he shrugs. “I felt like trying something new and she helped me.”

Getting laid certainly is doing wonders for this guy. “And things are good between you two?”

A sheepish grin passes over his face. “It’s good. It’s . . .” The smile fades as his head nods up and down. He finishes with, “It’s complicated.”

“Oh hell, you’re not f*cking in love with her, are you?”