Page 63 of The Havenport Collection

Astrid

I was sitting in a cozy booth at a very romantic restaurant with Declan Quinn.

He recommended I try the lobster bisque and it was incredible.

I wanted to lick the bowl but restrained myself.

I didn’t know why, but since coming to Havenport food tasted so good.

Eating was always something that I tried to do as efficiently as possible, usually while sitting in front of my laptop trying to work.

I just shoveled food into my face so I could get back to focusing on work.

But sitting here, with an ocean view and flickering candles, it was nice to slowly savor the incredible soup and sip this delicious wine. It was certainly a novel experience. The smoldering dinner companion definitely didn’t hurt either.

I bit into one of the seared day boat scallops and moaned slightly. “This is incredible,” I said, embarrassed that I was basically orgasming over shellfish.

Declan smirked. “Thank you. I caught that scallop—well, not me personally, but my company supplies this restaurant.”

I nodded. “That’s fascinating. So this was caught today?” He nodded. “Why is it called a day boat scallop?”

“It’s the method of harvesting. We go out for one day, hence the name day boat, and use a trawler to catch them in nets. The alternative is diver scallops, which are harvested by scuba divers.”

I sipped my wine. “That’s so cool. So how do you use the nets to get scallops?”

He savored a sip of his beer and explained, “We basically drag them across the sea floor picking up the scallops, sea urchins, and mussels.”

Declan came alive when he talked about his business. I could tell how much he loved it. “What you do is amazing,” I said. “You feed people.”

He laughed and looked embarrassed. “It’s not exactly noble, Astrid.”

“Yes it is. You go out and accomplish something every day. Today’s work can be quantified by my delicious dinner.” My work, on the other hand, was quantified in billable hours and how much money I could save my clients. Not exactly the same thing.

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable talking about himself. “So are you going to explain the dating app thing?”

“Don’t judge me,” I said, but deep down I was judging myself.

But what was a type-A overachiever to do?

Generally, once I set my mind to something, I was successful.

So it seemed logical that if I just applied myself to dating and pursued it in a strategic and professional manner, I would find someone great.

But after a few days I was ready to quit.

It was simply not possible to apply strategy and professionalism to online dating.

It was random, messed up, and completely not for me.

Dating usually felt impossible. Normal people with normal jobs and lives just didn’t get it. The work always came first. The deadlines, the clients, and the firm were the priorities. Nothing else mattered. Vacations, kids, birthdays, weddings, everything was secondary to the work.

I knew this was not normal. But this was my world.

And it was filled with people who understood the rules.

So dating had been tough. People outside the BigLaw world didn’t get it and wanted nothing to do with a jerk who canceled at the last minute and hadn’t taken a vacation in five years.

And the people in my world? They were too busy to date or spend time getting to know someone. Hence my foray into dating apps.

“I would never judge you, Astrid. I’m just curious. You don’t seem like someone who would struggle to find dates.”

I almost spit my wine out at him. “That could not be further from the truth. I have never, in my entire thirty-two years on earth, had an easy time with guys.” Most of my life I had received little to no attention from the opposite sex.

I wasn’t complaining. I didn’t have the time or the interest, but right now I needed to find a boyfriend, or at the very least a date.

Because Max may have tried to destroy my career, but I wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

I needed a date for that gala, and I wanted to roll up with someone handsome, accomplished, and hopefully a full foot taller than Max. That little prick could eat shit.

“Nope. Not buying it.”

“Oh, you sweet, dumb man. You don’t get it. Most of your species are not as highly evolved as you are.”

He stared at me, dumbstruck.

“I scare the shit out of most men. It’s not a bad thing—in fact I take great pride in it—but it makes it really hard to date.” I had been told I was “unapproachable” so many times. If one more prick told me to “smile more” I was going to move to an island and start a cat colony.

I smiled and sipped my wine. “Most guys are turned off by my height. And then those that aren’t are intimidated by my career.”

He nodded. “Some men are cowards.”

“You know, I love watching a man’s balls shrivel up when I tell him I’m a corporate lawyer. It is satisfying when people are exactly as shitty as you think they are.”

Declan smiled. “I need to see this. I would love nothing more than to watch you destroy a bunch of weak, insecure men.” He pinned me with an intense look, and I fought the urge to fan myself. A sexy man smoldering at me while also complimenting my ass-kicking skills. Be still my throbbing vagina!

Declan sat and thoughtfully sipped his beer. “I guess I can see that. You are intense, which I happen to appreciate in a woman. But I still think you are far away from resorting to dating apps.”

I shifted in my seat, debating how much about my current predicament to share. Could I trust him? Would he think I was such a dumbass? But, at this point, who else could I talk to? I didn’t have any friends and my mother certainly wasn’t a confidante. I had to take what I could get.

“There is a bit of backstory.”

He shifted in his chair. “Why am I not surprised? Lay it on me.”

“So the reason I am currently on dating apps is because I need a date for an upcoming event.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s more than just a wedding or a party.”

“What kind of event? An inauguration?” He smirked and I enjoyed how his eyes crinkled in the corners.

“No. It’s a ball. The annual Massachusetts Lawyers Association Charity Gala. It’s a black-tie fundraiser held in late March that is basically a who’s who of the legal elite. It’s the kind of thing I would normally try to get out of attending, but this year I am being given an award.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome.”

“Not quite. The team I worked on is getting the award. We set up a clinic at a local homeless shelter helping people with their debt issues. A lot of people have been the victim of predatory lending and are struggling with illegal or unethical debts. It holds a lot of folks back.”

“So you help them?”

“Yes. We help figure out what’s going on.

Call the lenders, flex our legal muscles a bit, and sometimes reduce and sometimes outright knock out their debts.

You would be surprised how many shady people prey on the vulnerable.

And some folks have been the victims of identity theft and don’t even know how to fight it.

” Setting up the clinic, training other lawyers in predatory debt prevention, and helping clients was one of the most satisfying things I had done in my career.

It had taken two years, but we were up and running at several Boston-area shelters and had secured some huge wins for our clients. We had truly improved people’s lives.

“So you are not just a legal badass, you are a good person too. Noted.” He took another sip of beer and gestured for me to go on.

“So I was recently fired from my law firm. And under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t dream of going. But I have an axe to grind with a partner who set me up after I wouldn't sleep with him.” I paused, embarrassed to have to be telling this story out loud.

He immediately got mad. “Did he take advantage of you?” I could see him growing more and more angry. Normally this would annoy me—I hated when men tried to protect me—but with Declan it felt good, made me feel safe.

“Not exactly. He just quietly torpedoed my career in retaliation.”

“That bastard.”

I watched Declan’s face change as I told him my tale of woe.

I could see the rage bubbling up inside him as I recounted working with Max and what had happened.

I told him about his text messages, the creepy comments, and the time he grabbed my ass.

Declan had no poker face, that was for sure.

He picked up his beer glass, and it looked like he could smash it in his big, capable hands.

“So what’s the plan, killer? I know you have a plan.”

“I’m not sure yet. I am lying low and figuring things out. Taking some much needed time off in the process.”

“I don’t know you that well, but I know you are not one who gets knocked down and stays down. What can I do to help?”

I loved that he wanted to help me. I loved that he listened to my humiliating story and still called me killer.

I had let myself and the rest of womankind down by not fighting harder for my job, for not going to HR the minute he propositioned me.

I wasn’t feeling like a killer. I wasn’t feeling like my usual controlled and strategic self.

I was feeling like a timid, pathetic mess.

I forced myself to look him in the eye. I was so embarrassed and humiliated, airing my shame in front of a quasi-stranger.

“What I really need is a date for this gala. I can’t hide away in shame.

I did nothing wrong, and I am going to go there and hold my head up high and receive my award for the hard work I accomplished.

” I wasn’t going to give Burns & Glenn the satisfaction of erasing my hard work.

It would also be an invaluable networking opportunity since I needed to line up a new job.

“Fuck yes, you are.”

“So will you be my date?”

“What? Me?”

“Come with me, pretend to be my boyfriend. I’ll get you a tux. You will look great in a tux,”—I winked for effect—“and we will go to a fancy party.”

He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. He sat silently for a moment, clearly formulating his answer in his head.

“Why would you want to take me? I’m a fisherman, not some fancy corporate type.”

“Are you kidding me, Declan? You are the perfect date.” I gestured to him. “You are tall and built and uncomfortably handsome.”

He averted his gaze, and I detected a bit of a blush on his bearded face. It was really cute.

He waved his hand at me, embarrassed. “Objectifying me will get you nowhere, killer. I’ll help you find someone more suitable.”

I reached across the table and ignored the fizzle of electricity I felt when I touched his hand.

“You are the only friend I have right now.

And you are smart and interesting and tall.

I just need someone to come as my date so I can hold my head up high and accept the award.

I can't face it alone. I would be so proud to go with you.”

He finally met my gaze and smiled. “Wow. You really know how to compliment a guy.” He shrugged. “I’ll do it. Because you are my friend and I want to see the assholes who screwed you over and underestimated you.”

I beamed at him.

He stroked his beard. “I would be proud to be your fake trophy boyfriend for the night.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!!” I jumped out of my chair and crushed him in a hug. He patted my arm gently, and I took the moment to discreetly enjoy his intoxicatingly manly smell.

“I owe you. Whatever you want. I am in your debt,” I said. My mind was instantly filled with dirty thoughts. I meant what I said. I would do whatever he wanted. Maybe he wanted me to walk Ginger. Or maybe what he wanted involved nudity, and maybe some light spanking and hair pulling?

A girl could dream.