Page 8 of Attraction & Repulsion

“I have a favor to ask of you,” he said. “Can you take over a consultation for me? I need to meet with the hospital district this morning.”

“Of course,” she said, eager to show him that she was a team player atevery chance she got. “What time?”

He glanced down at his watch. “At nine. It’s for modification of spousal support.”

Carson had never dealt with a spousal support case before, or any family law matter, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She was a team playerandversatile.

“I can do that,” Carson confirmed, scribbling the time on her notepad.

“Thanks. I also wanted to talk to you about the promotion we discussed last week.”

Carson immediately held her breath. All her hard work was going to finally pay off.

“I’d like to see you succeed in this career. I really would, but”—Carson’s heart hit the floor with a thud—“you’re not quite there. You’re passionate, and a damn good lawyer.” Garrett eyed the stacks of case files on her desk before he continued. “I think becoming a partner may be too much for your plate right now. And that’s why I’m not going to grant the promotion today.”

For a second, Carson had the urge to argue. Working her ass off over the past six years at this firm had to count for something, right? Then she took a second to ponder Garrett’s words. Was it too much for her plate right now? Her scar-covered body flashed into her mind.

Despite the tension lingering in her neck, Carson nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

Garrett tilted his head to one side, maybe noticing the slight twitch in her eye. “I’m not saying no. Becoming a partner is loads more responsibility. As your boss, and your friend, I’m advising you to focus on getting control of the cases you already have. In a couple of months, if I see improvement, we can talk.”

Even as Garrett left for his office, his words continued to echo in her mind.Focus on getting control of the cases you already have. How was she supposed to be junior partner, let alone run a successful private practice, if her own boss thought she didn’t have control of her workload?

Before Carson could wallow any more deeply, she was interrupted.

“Good morning, Car—what happened to your head?” Dan, another of the firm’s attorneys, was standing in her doorway. His buggy, sunken eyes were zeroed in on her forehead. When Carson had first met Dan, his appearance reminded her of Gollum fromThe Lord of the Ringstrilogy Luke had made her watch years ago.

“I just hit my head. That’s all,” she said. Apparently, the nude-colored Band-Aid she applied that morning wasn’t as subtle as she hoped.

“What happened to Carson’s head?” a voice beyond Dan asked. Rookie paralegal Noah slunk into the doorway, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses over the bridge of his nose. He was slouched over to keep from clipping his yellow highlights on the doorframe as he slipped into the room.

“Carson hit her head,” Dan said.

Noah glanced at Dan, then back at Carson. “How’d you hit your head? Did it split open?”

Carson sighed. “I got hit with a door. It’s only a small cut.” It was the only one of her cuts that didn’t feel good.

“Ouch,” Dan said, at the time Noah said, “Nice.”

“I’m taking over Garrett’s consultation at nine,” Carson told Noah, deviating from the subject. Despite Noah’s cheeky humor, she could always rely on him to get stuff done. He was the best paralegal she had ever worked with.

“Got it.” Noah shot finger guns her way and walked back toward the front reception desk with Dan following behind.

After skimming through only half of the dozens of emails waiting in her Outlook, Carson decided to light the lavender-and-vanilla candle Raegan had gotten her for Mother’s Day. Maybe its calming properties would make her headache go away.

Just as she was sniffing the melting wax, Noah rapped on the door. “Consult is ready for you.”

As Carson approached the conference room, she summoned what little she learned about family law in law school. Just as she pushed open the partially shut door, she halted with one foot inside the room. Jax was sitting at the large, granite-topped table. The morning sun bathed his silhouette from the window behind him. Instead of a baseball cap and the Super Soakers uniform, he looked more professional in a navy-blue shirt with a Maltese cross on the left side of his chest. His inky-black hair spilled across his forehead. A crisp manila folder was laid out in front of him next to the complementary water bottle.

“Jax?”

“Carson?” His tone echoed her surprise as he stood up. When the shock on his face turned into delight, Carson was a bit perplexed as to why her heart stuttered.

“I see you survived the night,” he continued. “How’s the brain?”

“Not dead,” Carson quipped, gaining her composure and shutting the door behind her before choosing the chair opposite him. He waited until she was seated before he sat back down.

“You’re Mr. Hoover?”

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