Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I tried to hide my grin and failed. “All people, or lawyer people?”
“All of them.”
“Even your friends?”
He shrugged. “My friends think I’m a dick.”
“Ah.”
He laughed darkly. “Just kidding.” His voice dropped. “I don’t have many real friends.”
I could only blink. From the tone of his voice, I knew he was serious.
“Your family?”
His expression darkened. “I have none.”
“Oh.”
The silence was uncomfortable, and I knew I had touched on a very personal subject.
“And you don’t even like to hang with other lawyers? You don’t enjoy the trust-building aspect?”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t trust any of them as far as I could throw them. I have zero desire to ‘hang’ with any of them, as you put it.”
“Is it because of your position? I imagine you’re hoping for partner?”
He shook his head. “I was offered partner at my last two firms. This offer came with immediate partnership. I turned them all down.”
I blinked. “You don’t want to be a partner?”
“No. Partnership comes with more responsibilities. It implies a lasting bond. I don’t believe in that. Nothing lasts. And the thought of having the hassle of dissolving that partnership when I leave or they want me gone doesn’t appeal.”
“Maybe that wouldn’t happen.”
He met my gaze, his eyes serious. “Nothing lasts, Grace. Everything in life shifts. That’s why divorce attorneys are in such high demand. Custody cases fill the courts. Business partners are constantly suing one another. Love dies. Friendships end. People move on. It’s inevitable.”
I was shocked by his words. “I disagree. My family is proof that love lives and thrives. That friendship can be a lifelong bond.”
“Then you’re one of the lucky few.”
“Pardon my bluntness, but that sounds like a lonely life.”
“I like your bluntness. But in my opinion, it’s a good one. I expect nothing. I want nothing. I owe no one. I rely on no one. I don’t have to conform to anyone or worry about anyone’s feelings. I live to please myself. I know nothing lasts, so there is no surprise when it ends.” He drained his beer. “And everything always ends.”
“I have no idea what to say to that statement.”
He shook his head. “I’ve shocked you, little Grace.”
“Not shocked, just saddened.”
“No need to be sad. That’s life.” He wiped his mouth. “You finished?”
“Um, yes.”
He stood. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
In the car, we were silent. His words affected me somehow. He truly believed them. I could see it in his eyes, hear the conviction in his voice.
“Grace?”
I glanced toward the sound of Jaxson’s voice.
“We’re here.”
“Oh.” I undid my seat belt. “Thank you for dinner, Jaxson.”
“Grace—” He stopped and drew in a long breath.
“Yes?”
“I’m glad your world is different from mine.”
Our eyes met in the dimness of the car. Slowly, the air changed. His expression shifted, and his eyes—his brilliant, intense ice-blue eyes melted. They warmed, no longer distant and remote, but gentle. The longer we stared, the more they changed. Ice became fire. Cold became heat. It flared and burned, making my breath catch. I felt the intensity of the moment bearing down on us. Nothing existed outside the car. Nothing mattered except now. Jaxson. His head began to lower just as mine inched forward. I shivered, knowing what was about to happen.
Then a car went by, honking the horn loudly, and the moment exploded, shattering into jagged shards of reality.
Jaxson reared back as if burned. He gripped his steering wheel.
“Thank you for your efforts this week.”
It took great determination to get out of the car without tripping. “Thank you for dinner,” I repeated, at a loss for any other words.
I shut the door and began to walk away when he lowered the window and leaned over the seat. “Wait.”
I bent down. “Yes?”
He shut his eyes, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just—have a good weekend, Gracie.”
He drove away.
I watched him go, suddenly realizing what he had called me.
Not Ms. VanRyan. Not Grace. Gracie.
Had he even realized it?
Monday morning, there was no sign of the man who’d insisted on driving me home and getting me soup. He was removed and cool, although he did still call me Grace and he didn’t correct me when I called him Jaxson the first time.
Michael grinned. “Earned it, did you?” he whispered.
“I guess so.”
He high-fived me. “Took me two weeks. You go, girlfriend.”
Jaxson reappeared as our hands hit, and he stopped, watching us with narrowed eyes.
Michael grinned at him. “You need something?”
“Make sure Grace’s schedule contains her allotted study time. And be sure she uses it.” His glare encompassed us both. “I don’t want to have to listen to the partners complain I’m ignoring the guidelines set out for articling students.”
He turned and went back to his office, the slam of the door echoing.
I cringed, but Michael ignored it. “You heard him,” he stated. “Wednesday and Friday, I’m slotting your hours in. For the love of god, take them.”