Page 18 of Playmaker

Sadly, she believed that. “You picked the wrong career, then.”

I caught a glimpse of her as she turned to me. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes lit up. Calliope had passion buried underneath her sensible outer layer, and I liked igniting it.

“Do you really think the Canada Revenue Agency gives a shit what my clothes look like when I’m arguing a filing with them?”

“CRA isn’t a person, Callie.” There was that growly sound again. I held in my grin.

“But I deal withpeoplewho work for CRA, and when they’re reading something I wrote, I don’t include a photo of an expensive suit to impress them.”

I understood her point, but she was ignoring that appearances did matter. If she spent her whole life working remotely, then sure, no one would see her or care what she wore. But she worked in an office. She wanted to go to a golf tournament and make partner. That meant people would see her and judge her. She needed to up her game for that. “Why did your asshole buddy at the dinner last weekend think you couldn’t fit in with this golf tournament your firm is hosting?”

There was a pause. No growl. I stole another glance, and her mouth was pressed tight, and she was staring out the window.

Damn.I didn’t want to be like Benson. But she had to admit she needed help before I could do that. “Callie, you might find clothing and shoes and all that shit superficial. You might find it intimidating. But if you’re going to be in court, or your office, or impress other people at events, all that superficial shit matters.”

I took one hand off the wheel to point to myself.

“That’s something I’m good at.” I’d grown up with it. “And I like to make people look good. I work on my teammates all the time. I don’t know if you noticed Hunter the other night, but he desperately needs help or he dresses all wrong. Even that guy, Benson? Wrong shirt color.”

Callie turned to me when she heard that. Her lush lips were no longer pressed tightly together.

“Think of this as another tool you need. I am very good with this tool.”

This time I heard a snort.

Glad she was feeling better and taking me up on that comment. “I get that you want to pay for your own stuff. Fine. I’ll let you do that from now on. But if you really want to be seen as partner material, I can help you choose the right clothing for the job.”

“I get it, Cooper. I just…this isn’t something I’m good at. If you are willing to advise me, I will listen to you. But I buy my own stuff.”

I could live with that. But another question nagged at me. Callie was smart. Probably brilliant, if she was doing the kind of law that dealt with the tax department. She would get paid a lot for that. But why was her goal to become a partner when the whole “dealing with people” part that was so essential seemed to be something she hated? “Why do you want to be partner anyway?”

The lawyers I’d known who were partners, or wanted to be, were all ambitious, greedy, competitive. I didn’t really know Callie, but she didn’t throw off that vibe. Ambitious, yeah. But not greedy and competitive, not that I’d seen.

She was looking out the window again. “I deserve it. I’ve earned it.”

Ah.Something was behind it that she didn’t want to share. And since I wasn’t an asshole, I didn’t ask her any more. Instead, I turned on some music and changed the topic.

“So, Callie, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself.” Damn it, I sounded like I was starting a job interview.

She turned to me, eyebrows raised.

I shrugged. “I don’t know anything about you. Probably should.”

“I don’t know anything about you. Well, except that you play hockey and have strong opinions on clothes.”

I held in my grin, but I preferred her sassing back rather than making me feel like a shit. “I know you’re a lawyer and have terrible taste in clothes. I think it might be good to be a little more familiar with each other before we meet other people.”

A frown. “Why?”

“Because we should at least look like we’re friends. I mean, I’ve invited you to Briarwood. No one needs to know that I’m giving you golf lessons to impress Benson or the partners you work for. So, for example, are you married?”

“No. Never married, never want to be. You?”

I grinned at her. “Never have been, never plan to be. Who’s Darcy?”

“My roommate. We’re friends.”

I hadn’t thought they were anything else. Unless I was very wrong, Darcy was gay. “Okay, I don’t have a roommate.”

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