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“Thinking about me?”

I jolt when I find Ezra standing just beside me. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Sneak up on me.”

He cocks his brow, his mouth twitching. “In public?”

“Shut up,” I mutter.

I can’t help but let my eyes sweep down the length of him. His gray suit hugs him in a way that should be illegal, and I allow myself only a brief moment to appreciate it before I meet his gaze again.

“Where’s your client?”

His lips purse. “Late.”

“You didn’t tell him that being fashionably late to your own divorce trial isn’t looked upon favorably?”

“Tried.” He shrugs, offering me a grin. “Guess there was a bit of a language barrier.”

His smile makes the fluttering in my stomach spark up for reasons other than nerves. Has he always been this beautiful, or have I just never really allowed myself to appreciate it?

“You ready for today?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he muses.

“I’m looking forward to your cockamamie opening arguments.”

His grin widens. “That’s a ten-dollar word.”

“I’m happy to give you a dictionary if it escapes you,” I deadpan.

It doesn’t hit me immediately that we’re just standing outside the courtroom doors smiling at each other, but I can’t pretend that this more familiar banter isn’t comforting. Which is a word that I never thought I would use in regard to Ezra Hart in any capacity.

“We should go in,” I say after a beat, clearing my throat and breaking eye contact to peek back into the courtroom. “I imagine we’ll be starting soon.”

“Probably,” he agrees, even though he makes no move to go.

I catch him still looking at me when I turn back toward him, his gaze a caress. I suppress a shiver at the intensity of it, my chest feeling tight.

“About the other night…”

He perks up, seeming almost eager. “Yeah?”

“I just…” My teeth worry against my lower lip, and I don’t miss the way his eyes flick there. “I just wanted to say that—”

“There you are,” a gruff voice interrupts.

We both turn to catch Lorenzo striding up toward us, his lips turned down in a frown. He looks back and forth between us for a moment, finally deciding to ignore me completely as he gives me his back to face Ezra instead.

“We should go in,” Lorenzo grunts.

Ezra’s brow knits. “We should have gone in ten minutes ago, but you’re late.”

“I had business to attend to. I am here now. Shall we?”

He turns and saunters inside, and Ezra shares a look with me that says he thinks his client as much of an ass as I do, which I find very interesting.