“Then what’s the problem?” he asks, getting a little flustered.
“The problem is that there are two sides to every lawsuit. Two teams, if you will. I haven’t signed onto anything yet.” I push off the table and straighten up, crossing my arms. “I am just a silly woman. Maybe I’m better suited to go and represent the other party?”
Jack’s face pales and he leans back in the chair, swallowing hard. The door opens again, and my dad walks in. He warned me that Jack was a crotchety old coot.
“How are things going in here?” Dad asks.
I tear my eyes away from Jack and look at Dad, smiling. “Perfect. We’re ready to start.”* * *
The key sits on my desk, shining in the sunlight like some sort of demonic beacon. If I pick it up, the Devil himself will be summoned. Biting my lip, I reach for it, snatching my hand back at the last second.
I don’t want to summon him.
Don’t want to get the offerings ready.
But if anyone can make you bend your will, it’s the Devil himself.
“Charlie?”
Blinking rapidly, I grab a pen from my desk and put it to my notebook, pretending to be writing notes. All that comes out is the letter “O” followed by a “W”.
Dammit.
“Hey, Dad! What’s going on?”
“I wanted to see how you’re doing after talking to Jack Richards.”
“Really?” My brows go up. “Dad, I told you, I’m used to worse people than that.”
“Fine,” Dad sighs, relenting much easier than I thought. “I wanted to know why Owen Dawson was here this afternoon.”
“Tulip is staying at his house,” I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “So the dogs don’t get after her.”
Dad’s head moves up and down slowly, and I fear his judgment. I’m an adult yet I still crave his approval.
“Okay,” he says and doesn’t press. “So should I tell Mom to set your place at dinner tonight?”
“Yes,” I insist. “I’ll be home for dinner.”
“Just dinner?” Dad smirks. “Spoken like a true lawyer. Just be careful, honey.”
“I am being careful,” I promise, and Dad just smiles once more before closing the office door. My eyes fall shut and I let out a deep breath. I feel like I almost got caught.
But why?
My phone buzzes before I can dive in to my own head too deep. Pushing my hair back, I grab my phone from my desk and see a text.
Marcus: Hey, hun. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Everything okay?
Me: I think so. Maybe?
Marcus: You don’t sound so sure. What’s going on?
Me: Owen. That’s what’s going on. And also, what’s not going on.
Marcus: Did you sleep with him?
Me: Not yet.
I hit send without thinking and immediately wince.
Me: I mean no. I won’t. I can’t.
Marcus: Sounds like you want to. I stalked him on Insta. Just do him.
He sends a slew of fire, eggplant, and heart-eye emojis after that and I set my phone back down. I push the chair away from my desk and spin it around, blowing out a slow breath. I’m bored here and I wish I could distract myself with work and not get stuck on memory lane, remembering all the good times with Owen.
Planting my hands on my desk, I close my eyes. I’m tired and want a nap, and I’m definitely not going back to Owen’s for the night. Because his body against mine when he came into the office this morning didn’t feel good.
And I certainly didn’t react to his touch.
Or crave more of it.
Getting up, I go into the break room and get some coffee. Then I spend the rest of the morning going through case files and updating my dad’s computer. I take my lunch right at noon, and since I didn’t have a chance to make anything this morning, I head downstairs to go into town and find something to eat.
“Hey, Charlotte,” Amy, the firm’s secretary says as I pass by.
“Hey! How are you?”
“Good. So how do you know Owen Dawson?”
“We’re, uh, friends.” I adjust my purse over my shoulder.
“Friends, huh? We were friends before too.” She gives me a wink.
“No, it’s not like that.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”
Shaking my head, I move closer to her desk. “How long ago were you two, uh…”
“Friendly?”
“Yeah.”
She shrugs. “A couple of months ago.” Biting her lip, she drags one finger over her collarbone. “Best night of my life.”
I do my best not to shudder. “I’m sure it was.”
“Oh, it was. I mean, have you seen the guy?” she laughs.
I laugh too and then turn to leave. I knew Owen had gotten quite the reputation around Eastwood, but I didn’t think it would bother me. Because things can only bother you when you care about them.* * *
“Where were you last night?” Carly looks up from the Barbie house and narrows her eyes.
“With a friend.”