chapter 6
I DIDN’T MEAN TO SNOOP.
But when I walked past Tristan’s bedroom and the door was slightly ajar, I couldn’t help myself. So here I am, in my boss’s bedroom, staring at the picture of him, his wife, and their two kids. They look like the perfect family, all of them standing in a row, holding hands. Logan is a baby, so the picture must have been taken several years ago. Tristan’s wife has long blond hair, and is tall and willowy, and resembles a model. She’s beautiful. Tristan looks so happy in the picture it makes my chest hurt.
What happened to her? Did they get divorced, or perhaps she passed away? I put the photo back on top of his drawers and eye his king-size bed covered in an expensive-looking gray quilt. I wonder if he brings women here. I can’t see him having much charm, but then again, he probably just doesn’t use it on me. It’s his job to have his way with words. I leave his bedroom and rejoin the kids in the living room. Logan wanted to watch Hercules, which we couldn’t watch yesterday, so we’re all snuggled on the couch, popcorn within our reach. I open my laptop and am about to start typing when I hear a big sigh from Laura. “Dad always works during movies too.”
I slowly close my laptop.
Heaven forbid I’m anything like Tristan.
The next thing I know, Tristan is gently shaking me awake. I must have fallen asleep.
“Mmmm?” I mumble, sitting up and realizing exactly where I am. Shit. I glance around, but the kids are fast asleep too. I sigh in relief, then rub my eyes. “What time is it?”
He winces with an apologetic look. “I had to stay at work late, sorry. I tried to call, but you weren’t answering the phone.”
Apparently because I’d decided it was nap time for everyone.
“It’s almost eight,” he says, sitting down on the couch by my feet and running his hands through his hair. He looks exhausted. His skin is pale, and there are bags under his eyes. I don’t know how I never noticed that. With his hair now sticking up in every direction, he looks almost boyish, and slightly vulnerable. I should be angry that he made me stay here, at his house, being his own personal babysitter, but with him looking slightly defeated, I don’t have it in me to say anything.
“How did we all fall asleep?” I ask, shaking my head. “That movie must have been a real winner.”
He smirks and tilts his head, a sleepy look on his face. “If I’d been here, I’d have napped too.”
“I can see that,” I murmur, studying him. “You look dead on your feet.”
He lifts his hand to his shoulder, trying to rub what I assume is stress from the muscle there. “Yeah, it’s been a long day.” My brow furrows as I watch his pathetic attempt to give himself a massage.
“I give a pretty great massage, if you need one,” I tell him, surprising myself at the offer. I must be more exhausted than I thought, yet I find myself moving toward him before he has a chance to say anything, and touch his shoulder. “Turn to the side.”
He silently turns on the couch, giving me his back. I place my hands on either side of his shoulders and apply pressure, my thumbs circling. I can feel how hard and muscular his back is, he clearly takes good care of his body to remain so fit. I wonder what he looks like shirtless . . . I lick my lips as my mind wanders.
He makes a moaning sound, a deep growl, so I continue massaging out the tight muscle. “That feels so good,” he says in a husky tone that makes my hands pause.
With the sound of his voice, the atmosphere suddenly changes, the air getting thicker, the feel of my hands on him suddenly making me realize how inappropriate this is. I shouldn’t be touching him; he’s my boss. It’s just an innocent back rub, though, right? The racing of my heart and my suddenly dry mouth say otherwise. I clear my throat, remove my hands, and sit back, my breasts suddenly feeling achy, my nipples pressing against the material of my blouse.
“How’s that?” I ask, my voice coming out thick.
“Much better, thank you,” he says, returning to his original position and studying me. “You weren’t lying, you’re really good at that.”
“Don’t mention it,” I tell him.
Seriously, don’t mention it.
I just gave my boss a back rub. That’s normal, right? Yes, totally, completely normal. I’m planning my escape to get my ass back home, when he speaks.
“I brought food if you’re hungry,” he tells me, eyes on my face. “I don’t want you to have to go home and worry about dinner when it’s my fault you’re going home so late. I really hope Anne starts feeling better soon, because I don’t know how much more of this I’m going to be able to take.”
His words feel like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured over my head. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take? I don’t know how much more of this I’m going to be able to take. It’s not that I don’t like his kids—I do. They’re great kids, even Laura, with her slight attitude problem, but this is not what I signed up for when I accepted this job at Bentley & Channing. I have goals, plans, and dreams, and me being here doesn’t help me climb toward them. Maybe there’s another opportunity out there waiting for me? I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.
“You and me both,” I mutter under my breath.
He ignores me.
I take a deep breath, calming myself. He’s my boss, and he can make me do whatever he wants. I just need to suck it up and hope he starts trusting me enough to let me do some real work.
“What did you bring?” I ask quietly, watching as he removes his tie and places it on the arm of the couch. This is so inappropriate right now. He’s not touching me or anything like that, but I’m in his house, the sun has gone down, and we’re acting like he’s my friend and this situation is normal, when it’s decidedly not. He’s my boss. My very rude boss.
I need to go home, now.
“Chinese,” he says, moving to stand up.
I put my hands out. “Don’t move, you’re exhausted. Why don’t you relax a little? I’m going to head home now, get some rest. I already have dinner waiting in my fridge.”
A lie, but I need to bail.
I’ll eat toast if I have to.
“Kat,” he murmurs, and something in his tone makes me look at him.
“Yes?” I reply in a soft tone.
“Thank you,” he says, locking his eyes with mine. His are gentle, and a little regretful. I don’t know what mine hold. I don’t want him to think this is okay when it’s not, but he’s clearly in a tight spot. He’s never told me what happened to his wife, or how he ended up the sole parent. Either way, he’s alone. A single father and partner of a firm who is trying to handle the caseload of two partners, and he’s trying to make it all work. I don’t have it in me to kick a man when he’s down.
I nod, stand, and grab my bag. He gets up and walks me to the door, and then to my car. He opens the car door and waits while I slide in. I glance up at him, and say, “Get some rest, Tristan.”
He nods and reaches out to tuck my hair back behind my ear.
I don’t think I breathe while his finger traces my cheekbone until the lock of hair is tamed.
He then steps back, waits until I’m safely buckled up, and closes the door.
I drive home, not sure what to think about tonight’s events, about Tristan, about anything.
THE NEXT MORNING, SOMETHING magical happens. Tristan, dressed in a sharp, black suit, brings me coffee, and just how I like it too.
“Is it my birthday, or something?” I joke, grinning up at him from my desk. He still looks a little tired today, and I wonder how much sleep he managed to get last night.
I get a lip twitch. “Or something.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, happy I don’t have to venture out to get the coffee for us this morning. “Greatly appreciated. Although Jaxon used to bring me one every morning—”
“Don’t push it,” he cuts me off, arching a brow.
“I’m just pointing out the differences in mentor technique,” I reply with a cheeky grin. “What do you need me to do today?”
I rub my hands together, itching to learn, to be productive. To make myself useful.
He smiles.
And then he slides a folder over to me.
A real case. No cleaning, no errands. Actual law work. I smile and do a little happy dance.
He chuckles and says, “You can keep working on the Curtis case, but I also want you to work on the Davensworth case I took over for Jaxon. You took some great notes during the interview, and I’ve made some of my own. What he failed to mention to us is that the company that’s accusing him of the theft actually belongs to his biological father.”
My eyes widen as I remember the man I interviewed. “His own father is accusing him of stealing money from his company?”
He nods but then tilts his head to the side and adds, “Except he doesn’t know that Brenton is his son. Brenton was adopted as a baby and has a different last name. It actually look me a long time to find that out because the information was so buried, since it was a closed adoption.”
“Do you think he stole the money as some kind of revenge? Surely this can’t all be a coincidence,” I tell him, brow furrowing at the possibility.
“I’m not sure,” he says, tapping his knuckles on my desk. “It gives Brenton motive though. I don’t know; maybe we can play the sympathy card. Say he isn’t a thief or a criminal, just a hurt son trying to get some attention from his father.”
“He’s claiming he’s innocent though,” I point out.
“I know,” he muses, running his hand down his jawline. “I’ll be interested to see what else you can find.”
“Me too,” I say, smiling with excitement.
I’m back.
And all it took was a morally questionable night of babysitting for my boss for me to earn his respect.
THE NEXT DAY TRISTAN picks up Logan and Laura and takes an early afternoon to spend some time with them while I stay back and man the fort. Without either Tristan and Jaxon here, we all look to Hunter Braise to handle things in case of an emergency. Hunter is the firm’s family-law attorney, and he seems like a bit of a ladies’ man to me. He has one of those smiles, one that can talk you out of anything, including your panties. He’s hardworking though, always telling me that if I need his help he’s only a few doors down.
“Did Tristan go home?” he asks, popping his head into my office.
I nod, lifting my gaze from my laptop. “He said to call his cell phone if anyone needs anything.”
“He making you do all his work?” he teases, plopping down into the seat opposite me. His blue eyes are filled with humor, like they always seem to be. I’ve never seen a lawyer with so many tattoos, but he pulls them off. I like the peek we get of them when he rolls his sleeves up. “How have you been doing with everything? I know it can be a bit chaotic when you first start, and with Jaxon gone . . .”
“It’s been different working with Tristan instead of Jaxon,” I admit, and Hunter throws his head back and laughs.
“It would be. He hasn’t made you cry, has he? The last intern cried,” he says, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “You don’t seem the emotional type though. Besides, you’re not an intern; they’re actually paying you. I haven’t heard him yell at you like he did her.”
“Why? What did she do?” I ask him with wide eyes. I don’t know what I’d do if Tristan yelled at me, but it wouldn’t be crying. I’d probably yell back and get my ass fired.
“She was just incompetent,” Hunter says, blue eyes filled with amusement. “She didn’t have that hunger I see in your eyes, that excitement and eagerness to succeed.”
I like that he sees that in me. “Well, no tears. Yet, anyway.”
“Yet,” he agrees, chuckling. “If you need any help with anything, let me know. Especially when Tristan’s out of the office, if I can help I’d rather do that than have us interrupt his time with his kids.”
“That’s nice of you,” I tell him.
“His wife passed away a few years back, so I don’t know how he does it, to be honest. Anything I can do to help him, I’m there.”
He stands and exits my office, his words lingering. So his wife did pass away. Sadness fills me at the thought of Laura and Logan growing up without their beautiful mother, and Tristan losing his wife. It must have been really hard on Tristan, and now he has to balance being a single father and a demanding career. I can’t help but soften toward him a little.
Sometimes life just isn’t fair.