Page 22 of When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss

Reese:See you on Monday.

Dawson:Looking forward to it, Red.

As I tuck my phone back into my pocket, I realize that for the first time in ages I’m looking forward to going into the office on Monday.

TWO WEEKS LATER

The past two weeks have been an adjustment at work, with me having to learn to balance reporting to both Rob and Dawson.

They are complete opposites. Rob is rude and demeaning, always assigning me pointless tasks and calling them urgent. Whereas Dawson values my time and gives me meaningful work that challenges me. And unlike Rob, he hasn’t raised his voice at me once.

I can’t deny that I enjoy our daily exchanges and verbal duels. Even on the longest days, I look forward to our interactions—strictly in a professional capacity, of course.

If only that were true.

Dawson occupies my thoughts more often than I care to admit. Whenever we’re in the same room, my gaze drifts to him as if he’s the sun and I’m caught in his gravitational pull, unable to break free. I wonder if he feels the same magnetic draw toward me or if it’s all in my head.

This is why working together was a bad idea.

The fact that my desk is on a different floor is my one reprieve, keeping our encounters somewhat limited.

This past weekend away from the office also served as a nice distraction, even though it passed in a blur. I had to cancel my Saturday study session with Noah when a pipe burst in mykitchen. Unfortunately, it had to be replaced, and I was forced to call an emergency plumber that put me out eight hundred dollars. On the bright side, I was able to visit Grams and join her at Oak Ridge’s weekly bingo night.

The ding of the elevator brings me back to the present.

On my way to the office this morning, I had to stop by a bakery on the other side of town to get Rob’s breakfast.

I stop short when I notice Stacey, a receptionist from another department, sitting at my desk, typing on her laptop. All my things are missing, and my mind is racing as I glance around to make sure I’m in the right place.

Rob was angry when Dawson had me spend yesterday afternoon on research for the Irving case instead of helping him sort through stacks of outdated legal briefs and preparing document summaries. I wouldn’t put it past him to have me fired, but the pressing question is whether he’s actually succeeded in doing so.

I’m doing my best to refrain from panicking when Rob storms out of his office. Steam is practically coming out of his ears as he snatches his cappuccino and jelly-filled donut from my hand. I wince when a splash of coffee burns my finger.

“You’re late,” he barks.

I frown, glancing at the clock. I’m ten minutes early, but it’s no use arguing with him when he’s in one of his moods.

“Can you tell me why Stacey is at my desk?” I ask, broaching the subject tentatively.

He fixes me with a glare over his cup while slurping his coffee. “Because I don’t have time to make the trip upstairs whenever I need something from you,” he sneers.

I furrow my brow. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

He exhales sharply. “Dawson informed me this morning that you’re moving to his floor. Apparently, he can’t be bothered to track you down whenever he needs something but expects meto,” he whines. “Don’t for a moment think you’re off the hook. You’re still my paralegal, is that clear?”

“Crystal,” I deadpan.

Confrontation is something I usually like to avoid when the outcome could lead to unnecessary conflict. It’s why I’ve seldom pushed back against Rob—it’s not worth the hassle. But today, I’m feeling especially daring and give him a piece of my mind.

“Your attitude is unacceptable. If you think—”

“Reese, there you are.” Dawson cuts Rob off as he strides down the hall toward us.

Rob scowls, clearly irritated by the interruption.

A group of first-year associates scramble to clear a path for Dawson, and everyone at their desks avoids looking at him. It’s obvious that apart from me, everyone in the office is petrified of him and doesn’t dare to get in his way. Even Rob’s bravado visibly wanes as he shrinks back when Dawson approaches. It serves him right for throwing his weight around and acting like he’s in charge.

Dawson gives Rob a pointed glare. “Why are you loitering in the hallway? Don’t you have work to do?”

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