Romancing the Bachelor (A Hamilton Family 2)

“Courthouse, please.” She slid in and frowned at him. “Why would you drop me off somewhere else?”

He shut the door, came around the back, and opened his own. Once he was settled into the driver’s seat, he gave her his full attention. She wished he hadn’t. “It occurred to me, I don’t know if you have an office outside of the courthouse, or if you just report there in the morning.”

“No office. Just the courthouse. I clock in in the back.” She took another bite of her muffin as he pulled out of the parking garage and onto the street. “Where’s your office?”

“It’s in an old Victorian building.” He turned left on Sycamore. “Do you like to paint?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Painting. With canvases. And paint. And brushes.” He smiled. “Do you like it?”

Once upon a time, when she’d gone out and done fun things, she’d loved to paint. It had been years, though, since she’d picked up a brush. George hadn’t liked when she painted, since it took her attention off him, where it belonged. “Uh…yeah, I guess so. Why?”

“I got invited to this paint and wine thing tonight with my sister and her boyfriend. I told them I didn’t want to go, but they begged me, and told me to bring a friend.” He side-eyed her. “You’re my friend, and you like to paint, and I don’t want to go alone.”

Meeting his sister? That seemed way too relationship-like. But then again, friends did meet each other’s families and other friends. “Wine and painting, huh?”

“As friends,” he pointed out again, turning left toward the courthouse. “Come on. Say yes. Don’t make me be a third wheel. Make us a full car.”

She snorted. “How could I say no to that?”

“Then it’s a da—” He cut himself off. “A friend meeting.”

This time, she skipped the snort and went right to the laugh. Her mother had always told her to find a man who could heat her blood and make her laugh, a man with strengths that paralleled hers, and she finally had. But he lived in Atlanta. “Wow. That’s just…wow.”

“I don’t know what else to call it.”

“Me, either.” She took a sip of her chai. “What do you do?”

“Um. Hi. I’m a lawyer.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not for work. For fun.”

“Um. Hi. I’m a lawyer,” he repeated.

“Come on.” She smacked his arm. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone lost in wonder as he blinked. “My life is my job. I don’t really have hobbies, or socialize, aside from when I…”

“Bring home girls to sleep with?” she supplied helpfully.

“Yes. That.” He frowned. “Shit. You’ve made me realize that I’ve become my father. He’s a good man and all, but shit.”

“He brings home lots of girls, too?”

“What? Ew. No.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “He’s happily married and would never cheat on my mom like that.”

He’d lost her. “Then how are you like him?”

“Work. He’s obsessed with his work. Misses events for office meetings, and lives for it.” He swallowed and let out a small laugh. “So do I. I work all the damn time, and I never make time for fun. No wonder why Anna and Brett told me they wouldn’t take no for an answer for this wine and painting shit, and that they paid before they even asked me so I’d feel obligated to come. They knew I’d get out of it if they didn’t.”

She studied him, seeing the way he looked almost disappointed in himself, and for some reason that made her want to hug him. It also made her see him not just as this perfect guy she had a major crush on—because, God, sometimes he seemed perfect—but as a man. A man with flaws—and that was so much hotter than perfection. “I’m sure—”

“No. I wouldn’t have gone.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’m no fun.”

A small laugh escaped her. She couldn’t help it. When he shot her an injured look, she held a hand over her mouth, stifling the sound. “I’m sorry, but that’s not true. We had fun last night.”

Too much fun, if you ask me.