Page 19 of Fierce-Matt

“Now I wait for you to make that step and reach out to me.”

She closed one eye at him. “So you can figure out a way to make me the subject of one of your pranks and ghost me or something?”

His smile dropped. The lightness from his eyes faded too. His shoulders got rigid again. “I really did a number on you. I’m sorry. Really sorry. I was stupid as a teen.”

“You said that last month.”

“And you don’t believe it?”

She shrugged. “Does it matter if I do?”

“I want you to,” he mumbled.

She didn’t know what to make of this person and wasn’t sure she had the mental energy to figure it out.

“I’ve got to get back to work.”

She stood up and he did the same. “I’ve changed. I mean it. But I understand if you don’t believe me. I hope you do and give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“I’m not sure why it matters so much,” she said. “You’ve always had women crawling all over you. I’m sure now it’s not any different.”

He mirrored her expression, closing one eye. “I’m not going to address that statement. I’ll just say that I’m single and haven’t been in a relationship for a year. The last one wasn’t that long either. Just a few months.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“So that you learn to trust me. Sometimes you’ve got to give a little to get something back.”

“I’m not sure what I’ve got, you want, Matt.”

She turned and walked away.

5

NEED TO MOVE FORWARD

“Hi, Matt,” Anya said to him the following Wednesday when she walked into his office.

It wasn’t exactly the call he’d been hoping to get from her, but he wasn’t going to complain at any opportunity to see her.

“How are you doing?” he asked. He led her into his office, then shut the door.

“I’ve been better.”

She wasn’t smiling, which concerned him.

Though when someone called up an attorney, it wasn’t usually a joyous occasion.

“Take a seat. You didn’t tell me much when you texted, other than you needed to talk on a legal matter. Are you in trouble?”

The thought that she might be in danger had his heart racing and feet itching to hit the pavement and defend her.

It was what he’d always wanted to do when he was younger. Too bad he hadn’t realized he should have protected her from himself.

“It’s not me,” she said. “It’s about my parents. Or for my parents. My mother is running late, but she should be heresoon. She got held up with my father and getting him out of the house.”

“Is this about the embezzlement?” He’d read about it online a few weeks ago.

“That’s part of it. It’s horrible and still makes me so mad.”