Page 41 of When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss

Now that he’s here with me, I’m struck by how much I’ve missed him—though I’m certainly not going to admit it out loud.

At first glance, we have little in common. He’s a brooding thirty-five-year-old lawyer and the owner of a tattoo shop. I’m a twenty-three-year-old paralegal struggling to make ends meet, with a crumbling old house for a home, and a love for playing bingo with a group of merciless senior citizens.

A chance meeting brought us together, but now it feels like our chemistry is too difficult to ignore. Beyond my initial mortification that he caught me working there, I’m sure he’s wondering why when I have a good job at Thompson & Tate.

I can’t afford to rack up student loans like others do, so I’m taking the slower, more practical approach to reach my goals. I made peace with it a long time ago, but I don’t want to be judged by those who might not understand the choices I’ve made.

“If you’re not avoiding me, then come eat with me,” he says as he goes into his office.

Against my better judgment, I get up from my desk, lingering in his doorway with my arms crossed against my chest. Dawson holds out a takeout container, inviting me to join him on the couch. “Please,” he adds when I don’t move.

Whatever he ordered smells delicious, and my rumbling stomach reminds me it’s been a few hours since I had lunch.

“I could eat,” I say, eyeing the takeout.

“Thought you might,” he says, his amusement evident in his expression.

Once I’m seated, I open the box and am welcomed by the mouthwatering scent of shepherd’s pie. It’s filled with ground beef, diced carrots, peas, and a cheesy layer of mashed potatoes.

This is my favorite dish, one my grandma used to make every week. I haven’t had it since she moved to Oak Ridge, so it’s been a while.

He remembered.

Dawson frowns when he notices I haven’t touched my dinner. “Everything okay with your food?”

“It looks perfect,” I say, unwrapping the fork that came with the meal. “It just hit me how long it’s been since I’ve had Shepherd’s pie, that’s all.”

Dawson purses his lips as he bites into his bacon and mushroom burger. Once he swallows, he says, “I wanted to do something nice for you because I see how hard you work and how rarely you make yourself a priority.”

There are moments when I wish he didn’t have such a powerful effect on me, but his thoughtful gestures make it hard to ignore when they’re in stark contrast with his treatment of others. He refuses to spare anyone’s feelings, especially when a crucial case is on the line, and remains unbothered when he’s ruined their lives. Which makes his behavior with me all the more perplexing.

“I appreciate it. This food is delicious,” I say.

We eat in comfortable silence, and I enjoy every bite of my shepherd’s pie.

When Dawson finishes his meal, he tosses his empty takeout container into the paper bag and turns to face me. “Are you ready to tell me why you’re working at Echo?”

I was hoping he’d drop it, but I should have known better.

After swallowing my last bite of food, I dispose of my container before responding. “I need the extra money, and the tips at the club are generous.”

Waitressing isn’t something I’m ashamed of; it’s made it possible to make ends meet while saving for law school, and I’m proud of my hard work. Still, I worry he won’t understand my motive, given the paralegals at his firm earn well above the industry standard.

“Can I ask you what you need the money for?” he asks.

I shift in my seat, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s not anything illegal if that’s what you’re thinking,” I say with a hint of sarcasm. “There are just some extra bills I have to take care of. That’s all.”

Oak Ridge is one of the priciest assisted living facilities in the area, but Grams loves the staff and has several friends who live there. She spent her whole life working and raising me. Now it’s my turn to make sure she’s well taken care of.

Dawson furrows his brow, seemingly unsatisfied with my answer. “I wish you’d tell me more,” he says, placing his hand on my knee. “But I understand why you’d prefer to keep some things to yourself for now.”

My mind fixates on the last two words:for now. It feels like a promise that he’ll be here when I’m ready to share more. Whether I’m misinterpreting it or not, it brings me comfort knowing that he’s here for me. Aside from Noah and Grams, I don’t have anyone else in my corner who I trust implicitly, and there’s a part of me who wishes more than anything that Dawson could be another person I could rely on.

“Thanks. I admit it can be lonely at times.” The admission slips out unbidden.

Dawson doesn’t hesitate to lift my chin with his hand, coaxing me to meet his earnest gaze. “I know the feeling all too well,” he murmurs.

His gentle touch, and the rare glimpse into his own vulnerability, offer me an unexpected sense of calm.

---