Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I’d offer to speak to Rook about this, but I sense that you prefer to handle matters like this on your own.”
I can’t help but smile at that. Knowing he recognizes my need to control my career means a lot to me. “You’re right. I can handle it.”
“You’re going to have this deal in the bag in the next few days,” he says with confidence. “It’s your choice if or when you tell Rook about us.”
“Thank you.”
He moves close enough that he can rest both hands on my hips. His gaze trails over my black pencil skirt before it settles on my face again. “Rook is an understanding bastard. I’ve known him a long time, and he gets that sometimes things happen between clients and their attorneys. He can be an asshole, but he does have a heart. You’d be surprised by who he is when he’s not at work.”
“Are you about to drop some hot gossip about my boss?”
His head falls back in laughter. “He told me he’s signing up for tap dancing lessons.”
My mouth falls open. “You’re joking. You have to be joking.”
His hand jumps up so he can trace a path over my bottom lip with his index finger. “I’m not, but don’t spread the news around. If you play your cards right, I’ll invite you to be my date to his first recital if he makes it that far.”
The thought of that makes me laugh. “It’s hard to imagine Mr. Thorsen tap dancing, or dancing at all.”
His grin flashes. “There’s a lot you don’t know about your boss, but that’s the only secret I’m revealing today.”
I lean forward to press my lips to his for a soft kiss. “I need to go. My lunch date awaits.”
He pulls back to look me in the eyes. “Can you fit me in for dinner?”
“Another night?” I ask because I need to stop by Mrs. Collymore’s on my way home after work.
“Another night it is.” His fingertips glide over my chin. “Let me know about any progress you make with Llura’s new attorney.”
“I will, sir.”
That earns me a smile. “You are going to make partner one day. You know that, right?”
I do know that, so I nod before turning and walking out of his office.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Declan
As I stroll into Rook’s apartment, I’m bent over in laughter. “You actually went through with it?”
He taps one of his shiny black shoes against the hardwood of his foyer. “Damn right, I did.”
When he repeats the motion, I can’t help but point at the shoes. “Those are tap shoes.”
He stomps out an irregular beat with both feet. “I’m already practicing.”
“Jesus, you’re bad.” I shake my head. “I’m talking really bad.”
“Daddy will get the hang of it,” a sweet and familiar voice says from behind my friend. “He needs to practice. A lot.”
I push past Rook to get to Kirby.
I kneel as soon as I’m in front of the little angel. “I have something for you.”
Her eyes scan my face. “I like that.”
“You don’t know what it is yet,” I point out while I fish in my pocket for the small dog figurine I picked up at a toy store a block away.
Her small hand jumps to my jaw. “No, I like this. You kind of have a beard, Uncle Declan.”
I cover her hand with mine. “Should I keep growing it?”
She looks behind me and up into her dad’s face. “What do you think, Daddy? Mommy says boys with beards look smart and that you never had one.”
I wince while my friend lets out a fake chuckle. “Mommy said that?”
“That and other stuff.” Kirby shrugs. “I like boys with beards. You do look smart, Uncle Declan.”
“It stays for now.” I pull my hand out of my pocket and show her my closed fist. “My surprise is in here.”
Her eyes dart to my hand. “Is it a Dalmatian for my collection?”
The kid knows me too well. That was her big ask the last time I gave her one of these handcrafted figurines. They’re made of plastic, so she can’t hurt herself if she drops one.
I’ve given her twelve so far. Each is an exact miniature replica of a specific dog breed. She has them all lined up on a shelf in her bedroom since a real dog is out of the question until she’s old enough to pitch in to help with its care. That was a decision made by her parents a year ago.
I flip my hand over and open my palm.
The high-pitched squeal she lets out is like music to me.
“I love it!” she screams. “I’ll name her Spot.”
I offer it to her. “Here you go, sweetie.”
“Thank you.” She tosses her arms around my neck so she can hug me. “You’re one of my favorite uncles.”
I rate up there with Holden and Rook’s younger brother, Milo. It’s an elite group that I’m honored to be a part of.