Page 6 of Master Debater

She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, indicating her doorway. “Same.”

“Good luck.” Keeping my gaze leveled on hers, I retreated one step and then another, unable to prevent myself from adding, “But just keep in mind if you need a hand—and I mean with anything, I’m right next door.”

Chapter 4

Nate

I continued to scowl at the newspaper article pulled up on my computer screen as I reached for the phone. “Yeah?”

“‘Yeah?’ That’s how you answer the phone?”

My chair squeaked as I leaned back, pivoting toward the large window that overlooked downtown to get a sense of the time of day—not quite sundown. “Hello, Mother Dearest. How are you?”

If it wasn’t past seven, my assistant would’ve let me know it was my mother on the line, and not another client who wanted something. Admittedly, my nerves were frayed, leaving me sharp and ready for the battle I’d begun three years ago.

“Oh, I just wanted to check in,” Mom said. “I thought I should let you know that I, uh, rented out the bottom floor of the duplex.”

Talk about three days too late. Although, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Willa since our run-in the other night. That probably had more to do with me and how busy I was than anything. I’d left before sun-up and arrived at home long past sundown, and thanks to my younger sister, Rylee, my caseload had gone from consuming to impossibly bloated.

This past year, I’d taken on so much it’d nearly crushed me, but I only had a couple more months to accomplish the fantastical, and I was so close I could taste it. Unfortunately, it tasted like burnout and exhaustion, but it’d be worth it when I proved to my uncles they’d not only underestimated me, but also made a huge mistake crossing me.

Waving a white flag, my ass. As soon as they’d seen how close I was making good on my threat, they suddenly had “a change of heart” and wanted to call a truce.

“Now, hear me out,” Mom continued, returning my scattered concentration to her. “I realize that I agreed to wait until after the place was renovated to rent it out, but we both know that you don’t have time to deal with that right now, and this lovely woman needed a place to stay, so?—”

“You leased it for a whole year. I know, Mom. I met the new tenant the other night.”

“You did?” Her surprise carried over the line, and I wondered why she sounded so shocked by that fact. “I called Willa to see how she was settling in right before I called you, and she never mentioned meeting you.”

My feet hit the floor, my chair nearly bucking me out from flopping forward so fast. The amount of irritation corkscrewing through my body didn’t make sense. Still, why wouldn’t Willa mention the fact that we’d met?

Then again, why would she tell my mom all about how I slammed into her and sent her and her intimate belongings flying. “Hmm.”

There. Nice and vague, so Mom wouldn’t read anything into it.

“Well, anyway, she’s a friend of Rashida’s, so please make her feel at home. Maybe you could offer to show her around Boston? She attended college here, but it’s been several years, and I’m sure enough has changed that she’d appreciate a personal touch.”

When it came to Willa, I was all about exploring personal touches. Something I refrained from telling Mom, who’d get the wrong idea—hell, she probably had the wrong idea already. She attempted to play matchmaker before, but had never come so close to nailing my type.

Nailing. Another thing I’d like to do to Willa. I ran a hand over my face. God, I needed to spend a few hours outside the office. While I didn’t think Willa was avoiding me, I was fairly certain I was avoiding her. Perhaps subconsciously, but now that I’d called attention to it, I supposed it was in full consciousness.

The other night at dinner, my friends had been paired up and hitting the PDA extra hard, leaving me feeling like a third wheel. Or fifth wheel, I supposed. Let the record show that I wasn’t jealous. Not one bit. In fact, I’d answered dozens of emails when they were too wrapped up in one another, getting a leg up on the next day’s tasks.

Ben’s new boyfriend clearly adored the semi-famous chef in our group, which was a relief. Ben tended to rush into relationships that burned out as quickly, but he’d taken his time with this guy, so my chances of threatening to sue that one for attempting to steal his recipes—like I had to do with the last guy—were slim to none. My friends loved slamming me over my cynicism, but who did they call when people tried to screw them over? That’s right, me.

Anyway, the problem with the dinner, and its excess of coupledom, left me inordinately aware that most people—women, especially—wanted commitment. As previously stated, I had enough on my plate as it was.

“Nathan? Are you even listening?”

No. “Yeah, Mom. It’s just been hectic here at the office this week, and I’m trying to wrap things up so I can call it a day. That’ll free me up to land a few more big-time clients so I can hit my deadline with time to spare.”

“For someone who claims to have been listening, it’s interesting that you decided to admit that you’re planning on doing the opposite of what I just advised you to do. You don’t have anything to prove, hon. They’re the ones who lost the best lawyer they could’ve ever worked with, and they’ve apologized several times. I truly think they’re sorry and that they regret it.”

So nice of my mom to say I didn’t have anything to prove, but it was the equivalent of telling a bully my mommy thinks I’m special. “I appreciate that, but with guys like that, words are nothing but hot air. They do, however, understand actions, and they’re about to see that erasing Dad’s legacy was the dumbest thing they’ve ever done.”

That was more important to me than losing out on a job where they would’ve put me in an underling position and kept me there longer than necessary. All in the name of teaching me to be the best I could be or some other bullshit like that.

Mom’s sigh carried over the line. I didn’t expect her to understand. We were talking about the woman with a target on her back when it came to sob stories. With Dad gone, it was my job to look out for her. I’d gone so far as to enlist her phone number on every do-not-call list out there. Not because the cold calls annoyed her, but because she’d go broke giving away her money.

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