Page 14 of Worth the Fall

"We really need to stop meeting like this," he says with a grin, referencing the pickleball incident. "Though I have to admit, you handle chaos with impressive grace."

I snort out a laugh before I can stop myself. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm known for. Grace under pressure." I reach for a sugar packet at the same time he does, our fingers brushing. The contact sends a zip of electricity up my arm, and I jerk back, knocking over the newly restocked sugar caddy.

"Sorry!" we both say at the same time, then laugh. The tension breaks a little, and I find myself relaxing despite my embarrassment.

"Let me get you a coffee," Miguel offers once we've finally corralled all the wayward condiments. "What's your poison?"

"Oh, um, oat milk latte, please," I say, trying not to read too much into the fact that he remembered I was here to ask him about a legal matter but still arrived early too.

He returns a few minutes later with our drinks and settles into the chair across from me.

"No protective gear today?" he asks with a grin, gesturing to my face.

"Thought I'd risk it," I reply, pleased when my voice comes out steady. "Though I did consider wearing a helmet."

He laughs, and the rich sound does something to my lower belly. "I’m sure you would make a casual helmet look great," Miguel says with a wink that makes my stomach flip. "Though probably not as good as you looked in that purple outfit." Our eyes lock, lingering on each other for a few seconds. "I’m sorry. This is a professional meeting; I shouldn’t have said that." He clears his throat. "Speaking of, ready for my onion?"

I groan, covering my face with my hands. "I was hoping we could pretend that never happened."

"Are you kidding? That was the best legal mattress consultation request I've ever received."

When I peek through my fingers, he's watching me with those crinkled eyes that I haven't been able to stop thinking about since last weekend. I drop my hands, straightening my shoulders. "Well, in that case, I have plenty more autocorrect failures where that came from."

"Looking forward to them," he says softly, and suddenly the coffee shop feels much warmer. He takes a sip of his coffee—the cup looking almost delicate in his strong hands—and I try to remember that I'm a competent professional who regularly argues cases in front of judges. I can handle one coffee date with an attractive lawyer who just happens to have really, really nice hands that I can’t stop imagining sliding up my bare thighs… "So," he says, "what's this professional opinion you needed?"

I stare at him blankly for a moment before remembering my text excuse. "Oh! Right. Yes. The opinion." I reach into my bag for my iPad, my mind racing. I'm about to embarrass myself spectacularly, but there's no backing out now.

I start talking, words spilling out faster than I can control them. "So, it's about my ex, Cameron. Well, not about him exactly, but he asked me to look over this contract he signed, even though I told him to get another lawyer because obviously it's not appropriate for me to represent him anymore after everything…" I feel my cheeks heating up as I realize I'm rambling. "Sorry, you don't need to know all that."

Miguel leans forward slightly, his expression softening. "Hey, it's okay. Take your time."

I take a deep breath and pull up the contract on my iPad. "There's this clause I'm concerned about. I mean, I know it's basic contract law, but I wanted a second opinion, especially since these are financial contracts and well, you’re in that field now…" I turn the screen toward him, watching as he scans the document with practiced ease.

He chuckles at first, probably thinking I'm joking about needing help with something this straightforward. But then his expression shifts, brow furrowing as he notices what I'd spotted earlier. "Wait a minute," he says, pulling the iPad closer. "Have you looked at section 4.3 in relation to the termination clause?"

My heart skips for an entirely different reason now. "That's exactly what I was worried about. The way they've structured it creates this massive loophole?—"

"Which could essentially invalidate the entire noncompete agreement," he finishes, looking up at me with newfound professional respect. "Good catch. Does his new lawyer know about this?"

I bite my lip. "That's part of the problem. He hasn't actually retained new counsel yet. He keeps saying he doesn't trust anyone else to look out for his interests like I did. Any chance I could recommend him your way?" I laugh nervously but he shrugs.

"I mean, yeah, I guess I would probably be a better option for him now that I’m at Blake Financial."

"Twelve years together, and apparently I'm still cleaning up his messes." The words taste bitter in my mouth.

Miguel's expression darkens slightly at that, and I immediately regret bringing up my relationship history. But instead of the awkward platitudes I'm used to receiving, he simply says, "That's not your responsibility anymore."

Something about the quiet certainty in his voice makes my throat tight. And the way his eyes feel like they’re staring straight through me, causes my thighs to squeeze together beneath the table.

I’m not surprised my body is having such a visceral reaction to a man who looks like he walked off the cover of a romance novel. But what I don't expect is how he weaves small jokes into our conversation like we’ve bantered for years, how his eyes never leave mine as he speaks, how he somehow makes discussing legal precedent feel like the most natural conversation in the world.

We fall into easy conversation, discovering we both grew up in the Chicagoland area, though me in the city and he in the suburbs. He tells me about his recent switch to Blake Financial as one of their lead counsel, and I find myself sharing more than I planned about my own career path at Harrison & Brooks.

"So, that's why you were reviewing your ex's contract?" he asks, and I'm surprised to find that hearing Cameron mentioned doesn't bring the usual ache.

"Yes, though after his spiritual awakening, I'm not sure traditional contract law applies anymore. Apparently, Mercury retrograde is a force majeure event now."

Miguel's laugh draws glances from nearby tables. "Please tell me you're joking."

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