didn’t stay that way? Obscure?”
“No. She didn’t”
“What happened?”
“Are you serious? You don’t care about what happened.”
“Tell me. You know I won’t read it and it will bug me. I’ll die confused and bitter.”
She laughed and he smiled because he’d accomplished the mission to cheer her up. “Dumbass.”
He laughed, raising his eyebrow in expectation.
“Oh fine.” She huffed. “Mr. Rochester—the hero—loved her. He didn’t see her as obscure. He saw her as a person of worth.”
“And were they happy?”
She nodded. “After his crazy first wife set the house on fire, jumped from the roof, and blinded him. Yes, they were happy.”
“Your idea of the road to happily ever after is a little bloodthirsty.”
“Life is messy.”
“True enough.” He paused. “I looked at your website.”
“You did?”
“It was romantic. Not sleazy or tawdry like people would assume.” He pointed at her Kindle. “You’re a closet romantic.”
“Nothing in the closet with me. I wear my heart on my sleeve.” She closed her Kindle cover and placed it on the coffee table. “It’s Teflon-coated, of course, but I still let the occasional asshole get past the barrier.”
“And then what do you do?” He didn’t like the idea of someone playing fast and loose with Risa’s feelings, a thought he didn’t care to dwell on for too long.
“I cry with my best friend Pepper, eat about ninety-five pounds of Ben & Jerry’s, and swear that I won’t do it again…” She made a face of disgust with an eye roll and her little nose scrunched up. “But I do. You’ve got to keep trying or you’ll never win the prize.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He shook his head. “Never played that sport.”
She cocked her head to one side, her nose scrunching up again but this time with her curiosity. “By choice?”
“I don’t see the point.”
“That’s very sad.” She reached over and twined her fingers with his own as she watched his face. The gesture was mildly disturbing, but he liked the weight of her hand in his so he rode out the urge to push her away. When he merely stared back she gave it a squeeze and leaned over to peek at his laptop, “So what are you doing?”
“Working.” He closed the computer and placed it on the coffee table, propping his feet up as he leaned back on the couch cushions and closed his eyes. This was one of the times when he wanted to jump on a flight to Costa Rica and drag his father back home to face the mess he’d left behind. At the beginning of his trip to Crazy Town, in the hotel in Richmond where he was shacked up with the paralegal, Teague had asked his father what could possibly be worth throwing away a lifetime of hard work and his reputation. His father had answered simply—love. Teague had laughed in his face, called him a fool, and time had done nothing to lessen his reaction.
“Fixing the stuff your dad left behind?”
“Yes. When he left he had missed court dates, unfiled legal papers, and many angry clients beating down the door of the office. I tackled the easy stuff first, so now I’m down to the hardest cases, the ones that need a lawyer to take them over before people run out the statute of limitations and lose their chance.”
“So why don’t you do it for them?”
He popped his eyes open and found Risa close, strands of her hair lying against the pale, soft skin of her cheek. Teague lifted a hand and brushed them back. His skin grazed hers and like a magnet, her body leaned into the touch. In the span of a few seconds his body went from relaxed to first-alert.
Holy shit. He still couldn’t believe the mess he was in because of a few too many shots of tequila. Looking back it had been really stupid to drink so much and leave his friends—the buddy system was there for a reason—and he’d blown it. But nothing would have peeled him away from Risa. That photo on Beck’s phone had told the truth of it. Her hot body and gorgeous
“No. She didn’t”
“What happened?”
“Are you serious? You don’t care about what happened.”
“Tell me. You know I won’t read it and it will bug me. I’ll die confused and bitter.”
She laughed and he smiled because he’d accomplished the mission to cheer her up. “Dumbass.”
He laughed, raising his eyebrow in expectation.
“Oh fine.” She huffed. “Mr. Rochester—the hero—loved her. He didn’t see her as obscure. He saw her as a person of worth.”
“And were they happy?”
She nodded. “After his crazy first wife set the house on fire, jumped from the roof, and blinded him. Yes, they were happy.”
“Your idea of the road to happily ever after is a little bloodthirsty.”
“Life is messy.”
“True enough.” He paused. “I looked at your website.”
“You did?”
“It was romantic. Not sleazy or tawdry like people would assume.” He pointed at her Kindle. “You’re a closet romantic.”
“Nothing in the closet with me. I wear my heart on my sleeve.” She closed her Kindle cover and placed it on the coffee table. “It’s Teflon-coated, of course, but I still let the occasional asshole get past the barrier.”
“And then what do you do?” He didn’t like the idea of someone playing fast and loose with Risa’s feelings, a thought he didn’t care to dwell on for too long.
“I cry with my best friend Pepper, eat about ninety-five pounds of Ben & Jerry’s, and swear that I won’t do it again…” She made a face of disgust with an eye roll and her little nose scrunched up. “But I do. You’ve got to keep trying or you’ll never win the prize.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He shook his head. “Never played that sport.”
She cocked her head to one side, her nose scrunching up again but this time with her curiosity. “By choice?”
“I don’t see the point.”
“That’s very sad.” She reached over and twined her fingers with his own as she watched his face. The gesture was mildly disturbing, but he liked the weight of her hand in his so he rode out the urge to push her away. When he merely stared back she gave it a squeeze and leaned over to peek at his laptop, “So what are you doing?”
“Working.” He closed the computer and placed it on the coffee table, propping his feet up as he leaned back on the couch cushions and closed his eyes. This was one of the times when he wanted to jump on a flight to Costa Rica and drag his father back home to face the mess he’d left behind. At the beginning of his trip to Crazy Town, in the hotel in Richmond where he was shacked up with the paralegal, Teague had asked his father what could possibly be worth throwing away a lifetime of hard work and his reputation. His father had answered simply—love. Teague had laughed in his face, called him a fool, and time had done nothing to lessen his reaction.
“Fixing the stuff your dad left behind?”
“Yes. When he left he had missed court dates, unfiled legal papers, and many angry clients beating down the door of the office. I tackled the easy stuff first, so now I’m down to the hardest cases, the ones that need a lawyer to take them over before people run out the statute of limitations and lose their chance.”
“So why don’t you do it for them?”
He popped his eyes open and found Risa close, strands of her hair lying against the pale, soft skin of her cheek. Teague lifted a hand and brushed them back. His skin grazed hers and like a magnet, her body leaned into the touch. In the span of a few seconds his body went from relaxed to first-alert.
Holy shit. He still couldn’t believe the mess he was in because of a few too many shots of tequila. Looking back it had been really stupid to drink so much and leave his friends—the buddy system was there for a reason—and he’d blown it. But nothing would have peeled him away from Risa. That photo on Beck’s phone had told the truth of it. Her hot body and gorgeous
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