The Lawyer (The Dalton Brothers 1)

Kendall

Dominick and I were seated in a corner booth of the restaurant, separate from the other occupied tables, the space giving us some privacy. Tall glasses of orange juice were in front of us along with mugs filled to the brim with coffee.

I stared at the menu, groaning at what I was going to get, even though there was no question in my mind. I just wanted to draw out this meal for as long as I could.

It didn’t matter that I had a full day of unpacking ahead of me, that we’d just spent the last hour tumbling around in my bed. Time was something Dominick wouldn’t normally give me. Now that he was, I was soaking in every second.

I quickly scanned the pancake descriptions, deciding which one sounded the best, and I glanced up from my menu. “Tell me … why law?”

He looked up. “Where did that come from?”

I shrugged. “Just curious.”

He moved his menu aside and surrounded his juice with both hands. “My parents are lawyers, and it was embedded in our heads from the moment we first started talking. Ford, Jenner, and I have always been expected to take over the firm.”

“So, would you call it a passion or a requirement?”

The small laugh told me he liked the question.

“Both.” He glanced at the window beside us and back to me. “Law was the language I grew up speaking, and it’s all I knew. When you’re around something so much, it either becomes a significant part of you or you eventually despise it.”

“And you fell in love.” His eyes revealed so much. “I can tell.”

“It wasn’t necessarily the job I fell for; it was the type of law. The three of us focus on our own fields—that was the deal we set before joining the firm.” He took a drink. “Ford works in estate planning, and that’s a fucking snore to me. Jenner concentrates on real estate and mergers, and I have no interest in that either. I like the thrill or large-scale contracts, the negotiation and banter that goes back and forth, winning massive paydays for my clients.”

I traced my thumb across the condensation on the juice glass. “At least your parents recognized that you were all so different and allowed you to find your specialty and bring those to their company. What type of law are your parents into?”

“Family law. They’re surrounded by divorce all goddamn day.” He huffed. “Once I passed the bar, I began building my team, and each of my brothers did the same.”

“Have you always worked with Brett?”

“We went to law school together.”

My brows rose, as I was surprised to hear this. “He’s an attorney?”

“That’s what makes him such a good agent. He understands the legal parameters, which most agents don’t. You combine that with his fearlessness, and he’s unstoppable. That man isn’t afraid of a fucking thing.”

“Are you?”

He laughed again, the sound completely different this time. “Not when it comes to work. I blast right through every boundary in my way, and I believe everything should test me, so challenges are more like games.” A small smile was now on his lips. “Most would probably say I fear personal commitments.”

My heart clutched, as I knew this was about to get interesting.

“Because you’ve been hurt?”

“Do you think I’d let that happen?” He paused to take another drink. “When I was growing up, my parents didn’t chat about the weather at the dinner table; they talked about the nastiness brewing between the husbands or wives and their clients, the kids who were going to get shuttled between homes, the assets that were getting divided. I came out of the womb with armor on.”

Dominick hadn’t shown signs that he wanted anything other than sex, no hints that there would be a relationship on the horizon.

He would give me his body, but his heart was off-limits.

I couldn’t help but feel terribly disappointed by this news. That what had been building between us was all in my head and it would never amount to anything more.

“A forever bachelor, without kids of your own, sleeping with random women so you never get hurt.” I swallowed, and it stung. “That’s an interesting way to spend the rest of your life, Dominick.”

He was thirty-three years old—an age Google had given to me during one of the times I searched him—and we were in very different places in our lives.

The realization of that gutted me even more.

“Kendall—”

“Have you decided what you’d like to eat?” the waitress asked, now at our table, saving him from having to respond to me.

I handed her my menu. “Blueberry and lemon curd pancakes with a side of extra-crispy hash browns.”

“My favorite.” She finished writing. “With plain or blueberry whipped butter?”

My stomach growled. “Blueberry whipped, of course.”

“And for you?” she said to Dominick.

“I was going to get the eggs Benedict”—he glanced at me, winking—“but you’ve sold me on the pancakes.”

“Same kind?” the waitress asked.

Dominick’s gaze returned to his menu. “I’ll take the banana and brown sugar.”

“Now, that’s my son’s favorite.” She smiled at us. “Cinnamon whipped butter to go with it?”

“Why not?”

“Shouldn’t take too long. Let me know if you need any refills,” she said and left.

“If you’d ordered the eggs Benedict—which I’m sure is excellent, by the way—I would have felt like I’d failed at describing how amazing these pancakes are. You’d have done yourself a disservice by not trying them.”

“I’m not big on sweets.”