Page 17 of When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss

“If Rob gives you any trouble with your new schedule, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

My eyebrows arch in disbelief. Given the way he treats everyone else, it’s hard to reconcile him letting his guard down to show warmth and kindness, especially to someone in my position. And I’m intrigued by the prospect of uncovering that side of him, the one he hides behind his brusque exterior.

“Thank you, Mr. Tate.”

I’m already bracing for Rob’s sour mood when he sees my new schedule as I make my way downstairs. It’s only my second week here, and I’m now required to spend more time with the man I’ve been fantasizing about for the past three months.

How much more complicated can it get?

It’s Friday, and I’ve been cooped up in my office for hours reviewing a contract when my phone pings on my desk.

Mickey:One of your customers called and wants to book a tattoo appointment for tomorrow night.

Dawson:That’s fine. I’ll fit them in.

Mickey:You coming into the shop tonight?

Dawson:Yeah. I have a cover-up session.

Mickey:See you then.

Mickey gave me my first tattoo—the compass. I got it the week before I started college. It was a symbol of my journey to forge a new path and a reminder that I’m in control of my own destiny. After that I was hooked, and he’s been responsible for all my ink since. He used to talk about wanting to own his own shop someday, but said he could never afford it.

A few years later, I had a meeting with a client at their office down the street and stumbled on Steel & Ink while walking past. It used to be a dry cleaner that went out of business, and the layout looked like it would be perfect for a tattoo parlor. I brought up my idea of converting the place to Mickey, offering him a stake in the business and the freedom to run it however he wanted. My only condition being that I had my own station. He’sthe only one at the shop who knows about my day job, but we rarely talk about it.

When my phone buzzes again I check to see it’s a message from Harrison Stafford.

Harrison:You down for getting a drink at the bar tonight?

Dawson:Sure.

Harrison:Meet at 11?

Dawson:Sounds good. You’re buying.

Harrison:I always pay.

Dawson:Fine by me.

The bar is just down the street from the tattoo parlor, so I should have plenty of time to finish my appointment before we meet up.

Harrison and I met a few years ago when he needed help with a disgruntled client. Despite being handed the keys to his family’s business, he works his ass off. Since taking the reins as CEO of Stafford Holdings, it has become the most lucrative real estate firm in the country. He’s earned a reputation for his no-nonsense attitude and uncompromising approach to business, which I appreciate.

He travels more often than not, but we occasionally meet up at a local dive bar for a drink when we’re both free.

I’m about to put my phone away and check my email when it rings, and a rare smile crosses my lips when I see who it is.

“Hi, Martha.”

“Don’thi Marthame,” she scolds. “You have some explaining to do. Colby and I haven’t heard from you in over a week, and we’ve been worried sick.”

“Correction. Martha has been anxious. I figured you were just too busy running the firm and playing hardball with opposingcounsel to call,” Colby interjects with a chuckle. “If you were a public defender like me, you’d be making a difference instead of raking in millions with no time for yourself.”

“Don’t pay him any mind, honey,” Martha says. “We’re so proud of you, isn’t that right, Colby?” I can only imagine Martha staring him down, silently daring him to disagree with her.

“At least one of you misses me,” I quip.

Colby likes to hassle me about my career choice, but he’s been my biggest supporter since day one. Martha and Colby Tate may not be related to me by blood, but they’re my parents in all the ways it matters.

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