chapter 8
“I DON’T KNOW IF I could ever respect someone who orders their steak well done,” I announce to him as we wait to order.
He throws his head back and laughs at me. “That’s not going to be an issue here, Kat.”
I like the sound of his laugh. Especially because now he’s not holding back. Why did he decide to let me in? To open himself to me? I’m not sure, but I think it was that moment on his couch, when I saw him vulnerable. He let me in that tiny bit, not because he wanted to but because he had no choice. I was there, and I saw what he was trying to hide, what he does hide from the world. The man isn’t invincible. He’s human, and he’s a father. He has a weakness—two to be exact—and that’s okay. He can be both: badass criminal lawyer and sensitive, loving father. Tristan Channing does it all. He can be as cold as ice or as warm as the sun—it just depends on whether he deems you worthy enough to show you his true self. He’s guarded, he’s strong, and he’s tough, but he’s also fair, and he challenges you. Pushes you. He’s everything wrapped into one delicious package. A package I unfortunately won’t be unwrapping.
“So I have to ask, how did Yvonne end up with you guys? I really like her and have since the second I met her, but she’s not exactly the most . . .” I trail off, not knowing how to say it without sounding offensive. Professional isn’t the right word because Yvonne does her job well. She’s just a little . . . out of the box.
“Conventional receptionist?” Tristan supplies, chuckling. “She’s good at her job; she’s just a bit of a free spirit. She does what she wants, she doesn’t even bother to try and fit the mold, but she’s the best. She keeps the place running, so that’s all that matters. We don’t care if she wears stripper heels as long as the phone gets answered and messages get delivered,” he says, then adds, “Plus, she’s also kind of . . . my wife’s cousin.”
“Oh,” I say, my mouth making a circular shape. And there I go, putting my foot in my mouth. “So she’s family.”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “She needed a job, and we needed a receptionist.”
“Right,” I say, smiling sadly at him. “Well, I’m glad she’s here, or I’d be the only woman in the firm.”
“That sounds bad when you put it like that,” he says, chuckling. “Anyone else we hire I’ll have to make sure they’re female, or we’re going to look like a sexist firm.”
“Exactly,” I reply. “You should hire another badass female lawyer.” I point to myself. “Someone just like me. You know I’m going to be a force to be reckoned with, right?”
He smirks and lifts the menu up. “I’m aware.”
“Just putting it out there,” I say, grinning as I pick up my own menu. “I always order the same thing when it comes to pub food.”
“And what’s that?” he asks me, sounding genuinely interested.
I like that. I like when people actually care about every little thing you say, even the stupid small things.
“Steak, medium rare, mushroom-pepper sauce, fries, and a salad that must have red onion with lots of dressing on it,” I tell him. “And a Coke.”
“Every time, huh? Don’t like taking risks, Kat?” he asks, placing the menu back down and studying me. “I guess you’re not much of a gambler?”
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” I tell him, just as the waitress approaches to take our order. “And no, I’m not.”
Tristan orders for me, repeating exactly what I just told him, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I like that he obviously listened and remembered every detail, but ordering for me? I don’t think that’s something colleagues do. Is it something friends do? Maybe, I guess. I stay quiet, lost in thought as he rattles off his own order, then study him as the waitress leaves.
“Are you much of a gambler?” I ask him, tilting my head, my chin resting on my palm.
“I’ll bet on a horse now and again,” he says. “But other than that, not really. I don’t have the time, to be honest. Hunter’s more into it than any of us, but then again he’s probably the most reckless.”
“I can see that,” I say with an amused grin. “I find him to be really easy to be around.”
“Unlike me?” he asks with a smirk. “Yeah, he’s probably the most laid-back, I’ll admit.”
“Hey, you said it, not me,” I tell him, laughing softly. “Do you remember the first time I met you, when you lost your wallet? I thought you were so rude.”
He ducks his head and admits, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. My nanny quit, the one before Anne, and I was freaking out. It’s not easy to find someone you trust to look after your kids, you know? It’s like leaving your heart with a stranger and hoping they don’t drop it. I was a bit lost in my head, in my problems, when you approached me. And I do believe I did try to make it up to you.”
Ahh, crap, he had to go there. This is my fault for bringing this up.
“Yeah, the coffee,” I say, looking down at my hands. “Before we knew we were going to have to work together.”
I dare a glance at him, but he’s not looking at me, he’s grinning to himself instead. “Feels like a world ago now, Kat. You found my wallet and returned it; not many people would have. There was just under a thousand dollars in there, and a couple of credit cards. There was also something else in there that’s more important than money and credit cards.”
“Like what?” I dare to ask him.
“A letter from my wife,” he admits, clearing his throat and looking me in the eye now. “She wrote it to me when we first met, and I’ve always carried it around with me. I know it sounds stupid, but—”
“It doesn’t sound stupid at all,” I tell him, meaning every word. I’m not an expert on romance by any means, but I’d call that romantic.
Romantic and sweet.
“Yeah, well,” he murmurs, breaking eye contact. “I would have been upset if I’d lost it, so thank you.”
“I was just in the right place at the right time,” I reply, shrugging and fiddling with the saltshaker. It’s weird how when you first meet someone you judge them by that one interaction when really you have no idea what’s going on in their lives. To me, Tristan came off as rude, and high-handed, but he’s none of those things. I never used to be able to see how Jaxon could be such good friends with him, but now I do.
“Timing is everything,” he comments, thanking the waitress as she brings my soda and his beer.
“Thank you,” I tell her, then take a delicious, icy sip. I swallow and decide to ask him something I’ve wanted to know for a while now. “How come you looked so annoyed and put off when you saw me in the law firm the first time?”
His eyes widen slightly, but I don’t miss the action. “Because after we met on the street, I kept smiling to myself. And I really wanted to take you out for coffee. But when I saw you in the office, I knew that I couldn’t cross that professional line. So I was really annoyed, not at you, just at the situation.”
Oh.
I swallow hard, not sure what to say to that. Lucky for me, he changes the subject.
“Logan was asking about you last night,” he says, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s almost like the kid has his first crush.”
“He’s so cute,” I tell him, smiling. “He’s going to be a little heartbreaker, I thought that from the first moment I saw him.”
“He’s a good kid,” he says, peeling the label off his beer. “Laura struggles a little without her mom, but we’re all doing the best we can. Logan was so young when Beth passed away, but Laura remembers her. I don’t know which one is worse, to be honest.”
I don’t know either.
You can’t miss something you don’t remember, but then again, loving memories are worth their weight in gold. It goes back to the whole “’Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.”
“I grew up without my mother,” I admit to him. “Completely different circumstances, but it was just me and my dad, and I turned out all right. So will Laura—she’s a strong-willed girl; she’s going to be a little spitfire.”
“Where was your mom?” he asks me in a gentle tone.
“She was a drug addict,” I explain, avoiding his curious gaze. “She was in and out of my life whenever she felt like it, but mostly out. Sometimes I’d go years without seeing her. My dad was the only constant in my life.”
“Was?”
“Yeah, he passed away about five years ago,” I say, pain in my chest at the reminder. “He was the manager of a restaurant, and someone held him up at gunpoint. He gave them all the money in the till, but they shot him afterward anyway.”
It was a really hard time for me. My father was my rock, and without him I had no one. I still have no one. I have some friends whom I love and am close to, but that’s about it.
“I’m sorry, Kat,” Tristan murmurs, sadness laced in his tone. “Is the man who shot him behind bars?”
I nod, and lift my head up. “He is.” I take a deep breath and then admit. “Actually, it was Jaxon who put him away, when he was a prosecutor. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come work for your firm when it opened.”
He reaches out and touches my small hand with his large one. “I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m glad the asshole is in prison. You’ve clearly been through a lot, but look at you. You should be proud of everything you’ve achieved all by yourself, and you’re only climbing higher.”
His words are sweet, but all I can feel is his hand on mine, electricity passing between us. I lick my suddenly dry lips, my mouth parched. He shouldn’t be touching me, and I shouldn’t be liking it. It’s an innocent touch, yes, but it’s just a taste of something I’m curious about. Something I know I want, something I’ve been trying to suppress from the moment I laid my eyes on him.
It’s me who pulls away first, and luckily the food arrives and provides a distraction.
We both eat in silence, a palpable tension brewing between us.
I don’t know what it means, but I’m going to pretend it’s not there.
Ignorance truly is bliss.
And so is denial.