Page 19 of Love in Fine Print

“Slowly, move your hands away from the keyboard,” Trevor instructed as if he was deactivating a bomb.

He was so dramatic. But I loved him for it. It was entertaining as hell. I did as he asked and he lowered back down in his seat.

“You, my Lawyer Barbie, are forboden from setting up your profile or doing any searches of the matchmaking site.”

“Forboden?” I questioned.

“I’ve been watching a lot of Bridgerton.”

“You can’t forbode me from doing my due diligence.”

“Did you or did you not ask me to assist you in your control freak ways?”

“I absolutely did not.”

“Right, that must have just been in my dreams. No matter. I’m still going to be taking care of it.”

“Trev—”

He leaned forward and slammed his hand on my desk. “Do you want to make partner?”

I just stared at him because, clearly, that was a rhetorical question.

“Do you trust me?”

He knew I did, which was why, again, I did not respond.

“Good. No googling.” He pointed at my face. “Now, you better get going. You’re late for court.”

I checked the time and saw that he wasn’t wrong. “Shit.”

I’d had to take my Apple watch off because of the damn cast.

Before I stood, Trevor was handing me my briefcase. “Your car is waiting outside. I’ll pick up your painkillers?—”

“You don’t need to. I’m not taking them.”

“You broke your wrist and twisted your ankle.”

“I’m fine.” I wasn’t. I was in a lot of pain. But it was manageable and a lot better than being on medication that made me feel…funny.

I had never been drunk. I’d never taken any drugs, prescription or otherwise. Unless you count antibiotics, which I’d been on only a handful of times in my thirty-five years.

I’d had my wisdom teeth pulled when I was twenty, and the medication they’d given me made me feel loopy. It was like I was floating outside my body. That was not a feeling I enjoyed. I enjoyed control.

As I reached the door, I looked over my shoulder. “Do not pull the plug on this matchmaking thing without my okay.”

“Got it,” Trevor agreed.

A little too easily. I knew there was a very good chance that he was going to set up my profile without my permission, but I didn’t have time to argue with him.

As I hobbled down the hall and got on the elevator to the parking garage, I did my best to focus on the case I was about to be presenting and push everything else out of my mind. But as I climbed into my SUV and drove to the courthouse, my mind was doing something it never did. It wandered. I blamed my lack of ability to focus on the pain I was experiencing, but I wasn’t sure that was the case.

It was fucking Ben. No matter what I did, I could not stop thinking about him.

And it wasn’t just his Greek god physique or his deep, sexy voice or his strong, capable arms, or his musky, intoxicating scent. It was him. It was who he was. In the short interaction we’d had, he’d listened to me.

First, by taking me to the clinic instead of a hospital and then by explaining why I should go in and be seen before the other people in the waiting room.

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