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I pick up a bagel and sit down at an empty table, lost in thought. Every day feels like an endurance test right now, and my feelings for Drake James don’t help. I want to hate him, I really do. Even better, I want to feel indifferent to him—that would be the best result. But the reality is that I can’t stop thinking about him, not even when I’m alone. He’s like a ghost, haunting my every waking moment and finding a way to get in on the action in my dreams too.
“Are you going to eat that bagel or stab it to death?”
I look up to see my friend Jacob standing next to my table with a wry smile on his face. He’s right—all I’ve done with my snack is slice it and dice it.
“Definitely stab it to death,” I reply as he sits down opposite me. “It’s an evil bagel and deserves to suffer.”
“Ouch! Is it a proxy bagel? A scapebagel, if you will? Does it look like your boss?”
“My boss? Why would you say that?” I snap back, immediately defensive.
“Easy tiger, it was just a joke. Are you okay?” He tilts his head and studies me closely. “You look a little upset.”
“I’m okay, Jacob, thanks. And I’m sorry for biting your head off. Just… life stuff, you know? Sometimes it’s all a bit exhausting.”
“Tell me about it,” he says, reaching out to pat my hand comfortingly. “You know what you need?”
“A fresh bagel?”
“That”—he laughs—“and a night out. Let me take you to dinner, Amelia. Or the movies or dancing. Or all three. Whatever you like.”
I look at his earnest face, his cute smile. He’s a nice guy, and nice-looking too. He’s kind and funny, and he’s interested in me.
What he’s not, though, is Drake James. And at the moment, I only have space in my head for one man—even if it is a man who infuriates me and has made clear that there will never be anything between us. Not even friendship.
“Maybe some other time, Jacob,” I reply gently. I’m not in the business of hurting anybody’s feelings if I can help it. “Things are a little hectic for me right now. I appreciate the thought, though.”
I stand up, preparing to leave, and he gives me a warm smile. “Well, although I’m brokenhearted and unsure if I’ll ever recover, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”
I laugh and tell him I’ll see him later, confident that his heart is made of far more resilient stuff. As I reach my desk on the upper floor, I bump into Mr. Parker exiting Drake’s office.
“Mr. Parker,” I say, frowning as he walks toward me. “Did something come up? Why are you leaving so soon?”
“Ah, honey, I just don’t think it’s going to work out with James and James. I think I’ll be looking elsewhere for representation.”
“Do you mind if I ask why? Did we not look after you?”
He gives me a reassuring smile and shakes his head. “You certainly did, Amelia. But to be honest with you, I just…” He sighs and shakes his head. “I didn’t like the way that man spoke to you. You can tell a lot about somebody’s character from the way they treat their staff, and he was downright rude to you.”
“Oh, Mr. Parker, please don’t think that. Everybody has their off days, and Drake James is an amazing lawyer. He’s completely dedicated to his clients. I guarantee you won’t find anybody with a better legal mind or a stronger work ethic. Sure, he can sometimes come across as a bit of a snot-bucket, but that’s not the real him, I promise you. He hides it well, but deep down, he’s dependable and decent. Give him a chance. You won’t regret it, I swear.”
He frowns at me for a long second, then bursts out laughing. “Well, I have no clue what a snot-bucket is, but I can take an educated guess. I’ll think on it, dear. I suppose he must have something going for him if a girl like you is fighting in his corner.”
I force a smile, both happy and sad at the same time. Hopefully, Mr. Parker gives Drake a chance and discovers themillion things he has going for him. I only wish that I was one of them.
Chapter
Eighteen
DRAKE
Amber has a way of looking at people so intensely that they usually do whatever she wants without noticing they’ve been manipulated. It’s a combination of charm, insistence, and sheer force of personality. I’ve seen grown men come away from encounters with my sister-in-law shaking their heads, wondering why they just agreed to do something they had no intention of doing.
I’ve completed a study of the Amber Effect during the years I’ve known her, and recently, I realized what it is. She doesn’t blink. Well, obviously she does—she’s a human being, not a lizard—but she blinks less frequently than most of us, and when she does, it’s a slow and sweeping gesture that makes you gaze at her long eyelashes in wonder. Personally, I think it’s a type of hypnosis.
Right now, for example, she’s telling me how much I should be wanting to help the retired clowns and carnies of the USA. I mean, it sounds ridiculous, right? Elijah and I sat in that gritty Irish pub and laughed about this exact thing. Yet here I am, finishing up lunch and finding myself deeply affected by the story of Ebenezer Daley, a ninety-two-year-old former trapeze artist who lost an arm in a terrible Big Top accident in Wichita.
“And then,” she says, leaning forward and pinning me down with those huge brown eyes of hers, “after decades of entertaining the American people, he was left with nothing! Not even a trailer to call his own, Drake—can you imagine? He was a homeless, one-armed tightrope walker with no hope, no future, and nobody to help him!”