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True, I'm in debt from the various student loans plus the few credit cards I maxed out to cover the daily expenses the loans, grants, and scholarships didn't cover.False that college didn't do me any good. The changes and growth that happen during those years are priceless. It was difficult, and I might have to file for bankruptcy soon, but priceless just the same.

“It's about getting out of here, seeing what the world has to offer outside of this small town.” I focus on the peeling ceiling, searching for the right words. “It builds confidence, character—”

“Debt.”

“Not everything's about money,” I counter with a bit of annoyance in my tone.

“Right.” He scoffs. “Look around you, Rand; everything is about money. It's all about who has it and who doesn't. If you haven't looked in the fucking mirror recently, you're in the group who doesn't fucking have it.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

All three of our heads jerk in the direction of the door, toward the deep, gravelly male voice.

My muscles seize, my lungs forgetting their one job as I lock eyes with the beautiful blue-eyed man. All words and coherent thoughts vanish into thin air. I open my mouth once, twice, but not a single sound makes it out.

Holy shit.

What in the hell is he doing here?

Chapter Two

Randi

“Miss Sawyer,” the coldhearted asswipe, also known as Kyle Birmingham, says. His voice is just as icy and degrading as it was years ago.

My tongue sticks to the roof of my dry mouth. “What… what are you doing here?” I finally manage to squeak out.

Kyle fucking Birmingham.

In my office, of all places.

The last time I saw him, his middle finger was pointed to the sky as he glared at me from across the auditorium after graduation. We hate—nope, that’s too soft of a word. We loathe each other. Opposites in every way. We clashed, fought, and debated constantly. This is the very man whose one mission in life those three years was to make my life miserable. There were only a handful of days that I went without breaking down from the constant bullying.

Kyle inspects his suit jacket, brushing off a piece of invisible lint. “I made an appointment.”

My gaze darts from him to Jennifer, who's too busy drooling over Mr. Jackass to notice the beseeching look I’m throwing her way.

“Jenn?” I ask. Jenn’s been my secretary for the past few years and knows I hate being unprepared, like now.

Her eyes reluctantly swing from him to meet mine, her face morphing into a cringe. “I told you. When you first came in, remember? Someone from his office called this morning demanding I make room on your schedule for someone from their office to meet with you. They never gave a name, just reserved the time slot.”

“Oh yeah,” I grumble more to myself than Jennifer. Mornings are spent at the small, and failing, family law practice I founded after law school, and afternoons are here acting as mayor for our small town.

“What do you want, Kyle?” Resting back in the rickety chair, I run a hand across my forehead, sealing my eyes shut in an attempt to get my bombarding thoughts together. The asshole is up to something, no doubt about that. If Kyle Birmingham flew from Washington, DC, to our small town, I need to be on high alert.

“You need some coffee or something?” Jennifer asks, her tone dripping in concern.

With a tight, pursed-lip smile, I nod. The silence in the room grows as Jennifer hurries out of the office for the small kitchenette just outside the door, catty-corner to her desk.

“We need to talk,” Kyle says, answering my earlier question, cutting his eyes to a tense Ben. “Alone.”

“I don’t think so,” Ben states, nostrils flaring. Have to hand it to Ben; it takes balls not to shrink under Kyle’s direct scrutiny. I sure as hell never figured out how to stand up to him.

“It’s fine, Ben. Thanks though.” I force a fake smile to ease some of the building tension. “I'll hear Mr. Birmingham out, and then he'll be on his way. Right?” My hazel eyes slide back, locking with Kyle's ice-blue ones.

Jaw tight, he inclines his head in acceptance.

Eyes narrowed at the bastard, I blindly take the hot, disposable coffee cup from Jennifer's shaking hand. Still smiling, I motion for her and Ben to give us privacy. One more direct glare from Ben to Kyle, and then the door clicks closed. Kyle takes two steps deeper into the room. His expensive cologne fills the office, burning the inside of my nostrils. He always did put way too much of that shit on.