“So, Lena works for you now?” Meg asked, dipping her brush into the paint, giving it a swirl before tapping off the excess.
“Yeah. I hired her last summer. She only works part-time while she finishes up school.” I tapped my foot against one of the full paint cans, feeling slightly restless.
“She’s going to be a lawyer like you, huh.” Meg stretched up on her feet to run the brush along the wall. I couldn’t help staring at the long, lean lines of her body. The way her back arched as she reached over her head. How she bit down on her bottom lip in concentration. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“That’s the plan,” I responded distractedly, my eyes running the length of her. “Though I think when it’s all said and done, she’ll wipe the floor with me.” I chuckled. I had no doubt my little sister would give me a run for my money at who would be the best lawyer in the Ducate family.”
Meg dropped the brush into the paint can and picked up her coffee, taking a sip. “I don’t know about that. Mom tells me about all your case wins. I’ve heard you’re pretty impressive.”
I grinned, wiggling my eyebrows at her. “Pretty impressive, huh? I love to hear about all of my impressiveness.”
Meg groaned, but her eyes sparkled with humor. “You have to make everything sound sexual. It really is an underrated art form.”
This time I allowed myself to reach out and flick a piece of hair away from her face, brushing her skin only slightly. Was I imagining her shiver?
“You’re in the presence of a master, Meg,” I joked.
Meg shook her head, drank the rest of her coffee, and then handed me her empty mug. “Thanks for that. My brain refuses to engage unless I’m at least 50% caffeine.”
“I know the feeling.” I grinned, reaching for the cup. Our fingers brushed. I swallowed around the inexplicable lump in my throat. We lingered a bit, neither of us moving. I realized we were standing close together. So close that our shoes were almost touching. She was still short, only coming up to my shoulders. I used to tease her about fitting into my armpit, which usually earned me a punch to the gut.
Her head was tilted back, and she looked up at me with a distinct lack of hostility. It was a nice change.
“It’s really nice having you back here, Meg,” I found myself saying.
Her face was flushed. Was it from the heat? Something else? I liked to think it was because of me, but that was me being delusional.
“I would never have believed it, but I’m glad to be back,” she said, her eyes on mine.
This was a moment. I could feel it. She could feel it.
What the hell was I going to do with it?
“Did you know old Grandy’s Cinema is showing a Lord of the Rings marathon all weekend?” I knew how to push her nostalgia buttons. I was using it mercilessly against her.
Her eyes widened. “No freaking way! Are you serious? How many times did we watch those movies?”
“At least a hundred times. Give or take.” I was smiling. She was smiling. I reached out and touched her hand. Just a brush of fingers. “What do you say we make it a hundred and one times? For old times’ sake?”
Her smile widened, and taking a gamble, I hooked my pinkie with hers the way I used to do when we were kids. I was hoping she wouldn’t break my finger.
She gave it a little squeeze and didn’t pull away. Emboldened, I took her other hand in mine. I started to lace my fingers with hers. “What do ya say?” I asked softly. I couldn’t look away from her. She couldn’t look away from me. There was only Meg and me.
This was it.
She opened her mouth…
“Adam! There you are! I’ve been calling all morning! Did you get my message?”
The sound of Chelsea’s voice had the same effect as dousing ourselves with ice-cold water.
Meg literally flinched and all but jumped backward. She ripped her hands away from mine, her expression shuttered, and her eyes went cold. She looked over my shoulder, her face stony.
I cursed loudly and violently in my head.
“Meg—” I started to say something—anything—to salvage the moment.
But it was too late.
A bomb had been detonated, and its name was Chelsea Sloane.
I felt my ex’s taloned hand on my arm, giving me a tug. “Adam, look at me, damn it. You’re being very rude. Why haven’t you called me back?”
Meg had climbed back onto the platform and went straight for the lever, turning it on so she could lift herself into the sky far away from Chelsea. And me.
Fucking hell.
Chelsea didn’t even look Meg’s way. Because Chelsea only had enough of an attention span for one thing—herself. And me if she was in the mood.