Bossy(16)

“Good work, team. See you again next week.”

I’ve totally zoned out. The meeting’s over and I hardly noticed. Declan pulls his hand away quickly and I glance around to see if anyone saw us. It doesn’t seem that way.

As we rise, Garrett waves us over. “Hang on a sec, I want to talk to you two.”

Oh crap. Never mind. He saw. Or he’s figured something out. Or I’ve done something else wrong. I close my eyes briefly, draw a short breath and prepare to face the music. “Yes, Sir.”

“I see you two have met. Everything alright so far? I’m a little skeptical about having you work together. Rumors of favoritism and all that, but I trust you know that means you need to work even harder than usual. Annette insisted it’d be good for you, but I don’t want to have to explain anything to your co-workers, or your clients.” He glowers at the both of us.

“N—No, Sir. Of course not.” God, I can’t even talk to him without stammering. Is this what Declan will be like in twenty-five years?

Declan doesn’t have any such problems. “What, afraid we’ll embarrass you? What could possibly happen? We’ll work great together, and bond in the process. That’s your plan, right?” Declan shrugs with his arms out, like he’s saying who, me? “Wouldn’t want to risk me scaring away another potential wife.”

“That’s enough, Declan. I’ve already alerted Annette to your antics.”

Antics? Who says that? Garrett, apparently. And what has Declan done in the past? I look at him curiously, but he ignores me.

“Give me a little credit, I’m not fifteen anymore. Claire seems nice enough, so maybe Annette’s more alright than I give her credit for.” He’s saying the right words, but I don’t trust a single one of them.

Garrett glances back and forth between us as if he’s trying to see if there’s something going on, but I keep my face blank. No Sir, I totally haven’t had sex with your son.

Today.

He nods. “Good. I expect encouraging news about your progress next week.” Then, without another word, he walks out of the room, leaving just Declan and me.

“Yes, Sir,” Declan replies sarcastically once his dad’s out of earshot.

I smack Declan as hard as I can on the arm. “What the hell was that? In the middle of the meeting? Are you trying to ruin my career before it’s even started?”

“Oh, come on. Just a little harmless fun. These meetings get so fucking boring.” He rubs his arm. “You’ve got a mean right hook, by the way. I haven’t boxed in a while, but I can pull out my gloves. Did you fight?”

“Nah. Catholic school.”

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs.

“Exactly.”

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch. There’s a fucking terrible cafeteria downstairs.” He puts his broad hand right at the small of my back, guiding me towards the door. I hate how much even that simple touch makes me tingle. And I’m supposed to work with him this whole summer?

I eye Declan doubtfully. “So now you’re being polite? What’s the catch? I’m not sitting next to you this time.”

“Trust me, making you eat at the cafeteria’s punishment enough. Besides, I can do my thing from across the table too.”





Claire


“Mom, how can you even think about marrying him?”

Obviously I’m not getting something, because she doesn’t seem nearly as outraged at the prospect of marrying a man whose law firm is defending the people responsible for Dad’s suicide as I think she should be. I thought there was no way she could’ve known, but when I told her, she wasn’t surprised.

She sips her latte, weighing her words. Around us, the sidewalks are packed and the noise of traffic fills the air, but somehow we’ve got the whole outside seating area at the café to ourselves. It’s not exactly quiet or private, but there’s nobody around to listen to us talk about what needs to be said.

I called her as soon as I left work. This is a huge deal, for both of us.

“Honey.” She sighs, not meeting my gaze. “It’s complicated.”

“Which part is complicated? Tell me.” My tone’s crasser than it should be, but after a long day with Declan poring over this stupid case when all I wanted to do was scream. I’m on edge. “Neither of us should be anywhere near this. It’s wrong!”

Her lips pull into a thin line. She’s angry. “Sometimes I miss how black and white things were when I was your age. Right or wrong. Good or evil.”

I try not to lash out, and fail. “Stop patronizing me. I’m not stupid.”