Page 9 of Danny Hall Gets a Lawyer (Goose Run #1)

DANNY

I hadn’t planned on kissing my lawyer, but the adrenaline from the encounter with Lucille had me wired, and when I took in the sight of Miller with his shirt all rumpled and his normally perfect hair all mussed up with feathers, it seemed like all my self-control just got up and flew right out the window.

And I was having zero regrets about that because after like, a second, Miller got with the program and kissed me back.

And he kissed nice , all soft and warm like a hot fudge sundae, his tongue gently exploring.

I found my eyes closing of their own accord, and I swore I was this close to lifting one foot off the ground, that was how good a kisser Miller was.

He cupped the back of my neck with one hand and kissed me with a little more intent, licking at the inside of my mouth as I did the same to him, catching traces of coffee and something that might have been cinnamon.

I gave into temptation and cupped his ass, and Miller let out a soft moan that went straight to my dick.

I wondered if that meant he was noisy when he fucked and how soon I could find out.

One thing was for sure, it wouldn’t be here in the back room of a gas station.

I reluctantly broke the kiss and took a step back, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck.

“So, um. I normally would have asked before I did that, but it seemed like you were into it.” I didn't want him to think I was the kind of guy who didn’t care about consent.

“I was into it. And full disclosure, you only beat me to it by about a second.” His cheeks were flushed pink, and when he ran a hand through his dark hair, he dislodged another feather.

I found myself watching it float lazily downward, twisting and turning before it settled on the floor, a splash of stark white against the dull grey of the linoleum.

I really needed to mop back here more often.

When I looked back up, Miller was watching me intently, his eyes dark.

His messy hair and kiss-swollen lips gave the impression that he’d been ridden hard and put away wet, and fuck, I wanted to see that for real.

Before I could chicken out, I said, “So, you wanna grab a drink or something sometime?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is ‘or something’ code for hooking up?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling my face heat. “That okay?”

“More than okay,” he said. “I just wanted to be clear. It’s the lawyer in me.”

“Well, with any luck, you’ll be the lawyer in me ,” I said, letting a teasing note sneak into my tone. As far as flirting went, it was some of my best work.

Miller reached out and ran a fingertip down the front of my shirt until it skated along the waistband of my jeans. “I could be down for that,” he said, his voice raw and husky, and I swear my insides melted a little. He licked his lips. “Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” I said quickly. If I took Miller back to my place, I’d have to listen to the guys giving me shit about it for weeks.

Plus there was no guarantee Miller wouldn’t come across Wilder wandering to the bathroom in his underwear, and I had no intention of competing with those abs. “Just lemme know when.”

He rested his palm against my stomach, the heat of his touch soaking through my tee. “Dinner tomorrow night? With a side of ‘or something’ for dessert?”

“Yeah,” I said, my insides swooping with a mix of nerves and excitement, “that sounds good.”

Miller gave me a smile that was tinged with relief, and it occurred to me that I wasn’t the only one who was nervous—which was ridiculous.

One of us was a catch here, and it sure wasn’t me.

It was this guy, with his suit and his intense gaze and the flirty little smile he was giving me, the one that promised one hell of a good time. “So I’ll text you my address?”

“Yeah,” I said, warmth flooding through me. “It’s a date.”

His face did something complicated, and I could guess why. It wasn’t like a smart, fancy guy like him would ever date someone like me for real.

I wondered if I should clarify that I knew this wasn’t a date-date, but I didn’t want to say anything in case that made it sound like maybe I had thought it was a date-date, you know?

Before I could say anything, the door swung open and Chase stuck his head in just long enough to say, “Hey, you gonna be much longer? Only there’s a camper van with like, a thousand kids, and I’m stuck making ‘fresh coffee’ for this dude.

” He made air quotes and screwed up his nose.

Chase didn’t like making coffee, and he didn’t like kids, unless it was Gracie.

I gave Miller a rueful smile. “It’s all go here in Goose Run.”

“I can see that,” he said, grinning back. “They’re here for the iconic goose.”

I snorted and gestured toward the door. “I better go.”

He nodded and we walked back out front. I took a moment to go over to the fridge and pull out a bottle of iced tea, handing it to Miller. “For the drive back.”

His face lit up in a pleased smile. “Thanks.”

He pulled out his wallet but I waved it away.

“Consider it compensation for the goose trauma.”

He laughed and took the drink. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Count on it,” I said.

I watched him walk out the door—okay, fine, I watched his ass as he walked out the door—and then I turned my attention to the chaos around me.

Chase was still serving the guy at the coffee stand while a gaggle of kids ranging in age from about four to twelve crowded around the main counter, clutching snacks and whining about being hot and hungry.

A frazzled-looking woman I assumed was their mom watched on, wearing a familiar glazed expression that I saw on the face of every parent traveling with too many kids and not enough patience.

I jumped on the register and rang up the snacks.

The mom added a pile of drinks and paid the eye-watering amount with a sigh.

She rounded up the kids and directed them to the bathroom, herding them like wayward cats as they all stopped to look at what else was on sale and touch everything their grubby little hands could reach.

Minutes later they all reappeared and their mom marched them out the door like a tiny, noisy army.

Just as they climbed in their camper and drove away, another two vans pulled up, and I sighed.

Summertime was the worst for big groups, and it meant I’d have to clean the bathrooms extra.

But still I spent the rest of the day with a dumb grin on my face that even whining kids and a late afternoon rush couldn’t dim.

I had a not-a-date with a hot lawyer, and I couldn’t wait.

Miller’s apartment building was a red brick three-story building with white trim around the windows and the entrance.

It wasn’t super fancy, but it was still nicer than anything Goose Run had to offer.

I smoothed down the front of my good button- down and ran my hands through my hair in an effort to make it sit nice, which was dumb.

It wasn’t like Miller would care what I was wearing.

He’d seen me in my work clothes, and he’d seemed to like me just fine.

Besides, if things went the way I hoped, soon I wouldn’t be wearing anything at all.

He’d texted me his address this morning and asked if I had any food allergies. I couldn’t decide if that was him being considerate or if he was trying to avoid future lawsuits for feeding me something potentially deadly. Both, probably.

I stood staring up at the building for another minute, nerves and excitement dancing under my skin, before I took a deep breath and walked into the foyer.

I climbed the staircase to the second floor and followed the directions Miller had given me to his apartment.

I knocked on the door, and it flew open and Miller stood there.

“Hey,” he said, giving me a bright smile. “You found it.”

He wasn’t wearing a suit this time. He was wearing skinny jeans and a Ramones T-shirt that hugged his biceps and he was barefoot, and let me tell you, he looked just as good dressed down as he did dressed up.

I looked him up and down, not bothering to be subtle.

“You look hot.” No point beating around the bush, right?

“Thanks.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You too.”

He moved aside to let me in, and as I stepped past him and into his apartment, I caught a whisper of cologne, something woody and rich. It was good to know I wasn’t the only one who’d put in some effort. It reassured me that this thing went both ways.

The apartment wasn’t very big, but it was modern and airy and cleaner than anywhere I’d ever lived.

Miller led me into the kitchen and handed me a cold beer.

I grabbed it gratefully and took a swallow.

The icy liquid hit the back of my throat and I let out an appreciative hum.

Normally my beer tastes ran to “whatever’s on sale” but this was actually good .

When I lowered the bottle, I caught Miller watching me, his gaze fixed on my Adam’s apple.

Okay then.

I raised my bottle and gave him a teasing grin, and Miller shrugged and flashed me a filthy-sexy smile of his own, one that was all heat and promise.

Then he deliberately cupped the front of his jeans, showcasing the bulge there, and whoa .

I’d thought competent, professional Miller was hot—but flirty, dirty Miller?

That was a whole other level of hot, and I needed more of it, like, right now.

And I needed a closer look at what Miller was packing in those jeans. I took another swig then set my bottle on the counter and took a step toward him. “You know,” I said, my voice rough, “maybe we could skip dinner and go straight to dessert.”