Page 15

Rad

“Hey, you,” Tealey says, smiling like I just brought the sunshine with me. “You’re full of surprises lately.”

When she greets me in the lobby of her workplace, her light hair is in its usual state of catastrophe on top of her head, and honestly, I find it so incredibly sexy, but the temptation to pull the pencils holding it together is strong.

Flushed cheeks match her lips, all under sky-blue eyes hidden behind glasses I didn’t know she wore.

The past few days have felt longer than usual, and now I understand it’s because I haven’t seen her.

“Yeah, it’s called fucking off.” Why am I sweating? You’d think I wasn’t a seasoned attorney used to intense situations. Is this intense? It shouldn’t be. I tug at my shirt to allow air under my collar.

Her laughter fills my ear. “I have my share of struggling-to-concentrate days. More lately. What’s going on?”

I dig in my pocket and hold the metal tight in my hand. When I open my palm, the only excuse I could come up with to see her today lies in it. “I had a key made for you. Wasn’t sure if you want to move over tonight.”

My other hand tightens around the brown paper bag, crinkling in the quiet of the office.

We both glance down, but I use the time to look her over.

The tail of her white shirt hangs loose in the back over a baggy gray skirt, leaving no figure to be found.

I already miss her sexy little body I was eyeing the other night when she was revealing her shoulder and those great legs.

And I haven’t been able to get her ass off my mind all day.

Hence, the special delivery, which now feels like an utterly ridiculous idea as I stand in front of her.

When her glasses slip down her nose, she’s quick to adjust them with her index finger.

Turning shyly to the side, she takes them off and tucks them in her pocket.

With her other hand, she takes the key, the tips of her nails scraping gently across my skin.

“You didn’t have to bring it all the way to Brooklyn. ”

“No trouble.”

“Thanks,” she says. “The girls helped me finish packing last night. It’s only a day early, but I’m looking forward to sleeping in your bed.” Embarrassment flashes through her eyes. “My bed. The spare bed.”

Chuckling, I hold up the bag to help her out. “I also brought you lunch.”

She blinks twice as her brows rise in surprise. “That’s so sweet, but you didn’t have to do that.”

“I heard you were working through lunch.”

“Just making up the hours I needed to leave early this week. How’d you hear?”

“Jackson ran into Marlow last night.”

“Ah.” Tugging at her skirt, she seems to give up on the ill-fitting garment and reaches for the bag. “What did you bring me, Rad?”

I’m about to respond, but she closes her eyes and takes a deep inhale, exhaling with a moan that has my body unable to decipher between her craving the food or having her in my bed. Dirty thoughts I shouldn’t be having rush my veins.

I’m surely going to hell.

She’s way too nice to get mixed up with the Bachelor of the Year three years running. I can’t even act right when I’m near her anymore. I went from zero to sixty for her, and she’s looking at me like I’m a dead end.

“Hope you like hot and sour soup.” I already know she loves that soup because she always orders it when we eat at an Asian restaurant.

I’ve also eaten enough meals with her to know the two foods she hates—mushrooms and anchovies.

Every week when the group meets, she chats with the server about what to try that doesn’t include those two ingredients. “I told them to hold the mushrooms.”

She shivers while scrunching her nose, being utterly adorable. “I hate those little fungi.” Taking the bag from me, she says, “How’d you know?”

“I don’t like them either,” I lie. I love mushrooms.

“Do you have time to come back? I can show you my fancy cubicle.” She waggles her hips.

“Absolutely.”

We only travel about ten feet before I’m in a cubicle not much bigger than my desk. Two chairs are squeezed into the space, so I angle to sit.

Perking up, she asks, “You got the contract yesterday, right?”

“I did. Thanks for sending the retainer. I have my assistant gathering records so we can start laying the groundwork for the divorce.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me every time.”

“I’m just grateful.”

“I’m glad you came to me.”

When a door grates against its hinges, she stands up and looks around, then sits back down.

“If my boss stops by, pretend we’re working together,” she whispers.

“There aren’t many people I dislike, but Lowell is at the top of the list. The city placed him here two years ago because they want a business degree judging how we operate.

We have a very tight budget. I get that, but sometimes someone needs more than food assistance and a pat on the back.

” She leans forward in her chair, sliding across the cracked plastic mat.

My idea of what she did for a living felt distant from my life, never touching my shores, but seeing her office and hearing her stories puts it in perspective.

She’s even more amazing than I knew, and I already thought highly of her.

She continues, “Our job can entail taking five extra minutes with someone to help prepare them for a job interview or find other financial resources. Lending a nonjudgmental ear can change a person’s life.

He doesn’t get that. He only understands dollars and cents.

” Waving to clear the air, she takes a deep breath and raises her chin.

“And he refuses to pay for some of my extra hours. If anyone can relate to long and demanding days, though, it’s you. ”

“I hate it sometimes, but it comes with the territory. I’m also compensated for the work. You’re not.”

“No one goes into social work to get rich.” I receive a pointed look, but then her expression eases. “I wanted to help people. I’m helping people . . . ten hours a day. I hate complaining. Sorry for the rant.”

“Rant away. You’re too damn good-hearted, you know that?”

The compliment leaves her grinning, too. “Someone’s got to counteract the cynicism in the world.” She winks at me.

“Touché. The world needs more Bells and fewer Wellingtons.”

Pulling the container from the bag, she laughs. “Lies. Your mom is very charitable.”

“Ha! She’s not even a Wellington anymore, but I’m not sure she ever felt one with the name anyway.”

I’m caught in a laugh when our gazes connect. Through shared smiles, our laughter fades, but our eyes stay fixed on each other. It’s quick, but in that one look, something more than our sense of humor tied us together.

She says, “It’s not only your mom who’s wonderful. You give people hope, a chance to make a new life.”

“I’ve never heard a divorce lawyer made out to sound like a saint.”

“It’s all about perspective.”

“Well, from my perspective, you’re the saint who’s actually giving people hope and a new start in life.”

She smiles again but doesn’t look at me as she pulls off the lid of the container. As if she doesn’t want to discuss herself, she sighs. “Hot and sour is just what I needed today.”

“Comfort food.”

When she finds the spoon, she offers it to me. “Do you want to share?”

I hold my hand up. “No, you go ahead. I ate earlier.”

Tealey starts eating as I look around at her personal belongings. It’s cute like her with the knickknacks. There are only a few, but enough to show her personality. Picking her coffee mug up, I read, “There. They’re. Their? . . . Ohhh .” I chuckle.

“Grammar jokes. Lame to most, but funny to me.” She pulls open a drawer. “I have snacks if you want a candy bar or gum.”

Various packages of gum slide around, but the Mars bars and Milky Ways are stacked in a clear bin. A clipped bag of chips and a few pieces of root beer candy are shoved in a white bin along with pencils, Sharpies, and what looks to be feminine products. “What else do you have in that drawer?”

“Survival tools. Coffee. Candy. Spoons. Mugs. Tampons. Baby food.” She shuffles stuff around. “And a knife.”

“What kind of knife?” Tealey wielding a knife was not something I had on my bingo card. Impressive.

“A switchblade. I was thrown against the wall once when I denied benefits to someone. I felt horrible about it and gave him twenty dollars. Guess it wasn’t enough.

” Anger burns in my veins, and I clench my fists.

He physically attacked her. Twenty bucks wasn’t what he was after.

It’s bullshit she was put in that position.

“What the hell, Tealey? I never heard about that.”

“I think you were in Aspen at the time.” She starts eating again, leaving me stunned. What the hell? I was skiing when I should have been here for her. No one could have predicted the attack, but I had a right to know and make my own decision on how to react. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“We didn’t want to put a damper on your trip,” she says as if the attack was nothing. “And now we have a security system.”

I never thought about her job being dangerous. Glancing over my shoulder, I stare at the front entrance. Anyone could walk in off the street, and her cubicle is the second closest to the door. “That’s good, but how will another attack be prevented?”

“Sometimes people do desperate things. That’s the only time I’ve ever been threatened. Every other time I had met with him, he was fine, even optimistic about the future.”

I’m not going to harp on this to her, feeding a fear that I’m sure she’s tried to bury.

But I’m glad she’s letting me in, sharing parts of herself that I never knew about before.

Sharing her life with me—the good and bad parts.

We all have them in varying degrees. I just hope her life isn’t on the line because of her chosen career.

Pushing aside my feelings on the matter, I turn back to her. I shift on the chair that was never meant to be comfortable and redirect. “You ready for the move?”