Page 95 of Three Bossy Boyfriends
“Yeah, but here?” I ask quizzically. “We could have stayed in Charleston.”
“There’s a bourbon tasting tonight, that’s all. Raw has launched a branded bourbon. No ulterior motives. I know you love bourbon, so I thought you might enjoy it.” Christopher holds up the menu. “They have a special menu tonightintroducing their bourbons. We’ll grab a few appetizers and their bourbon pairings.”
“Sure,” I say smoothly. “That sounds perfect.”
I do love the food at Raw, and the special menu they have tonight is designed to pair with their new bourbons. As I go over the menu, Christopher is discussing a case he currently has. He’s doing that lawyer thing where he can’t give details because of confidentiality, but he’s intrigued by the implications so he’s going around the specifics.
“I know I always said I was defending the law and not the client but this one leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” he says. “We’re talking generational impacts on the environment and the coastline of South Carolina if this company is allowed to pursue the redevelopment project. I feel…uneasy about this.”
He looks genuinely concerned. That makes me frown. “Really? Then maybe you shouldn’t take the client.”
For a second, he doesn’t respond, then he just tilts his head slightly and eyes me. “I’ve honestly never considered that as an option. It’s an easy case to win, with power players and prestige guaranteed for whoever comes out victorious.”
“Is an easy win and prestige something you want at the expense of your integrity?”
“No. Not at all. I’ve just never considered saying no to, well, anything that might make the firm more successful. I’ve been building my career for almost twenty years, and that has meant I don’t always like my clients.”
“Not building your career.Built. You’re there, Christopher. You’ve earned the right to decline whatever cases you want at this point. You don’t have to compromise anymore.”
He looks thunderstruck by the very concept. “Jesus. That almost seems…outrageous. You young’uns. Always telling people to do whatever they want.”
That makes me laugh. “You’re not eighty, for fuck’s sake. You’re ten years older than me.”
“Twelve, but who’s counting? But you’re right. You’re absolutely right. I can say no. I don’t have to compromise anymore.”
It almost sounds like he’s talking about more than work.
I want to expand on that concept, but the server comes over.
We order charred oysters that are intended to complement the rye bourbon.
Harrison Reed strolls up behind the server while we’re debating other appetizers. “If you want the wheated bourbon, order the brisket. Fatty meats bring out the caramel flavor in the bourbon.”
“This might be where I confess that I like to drink it, but I don’t know much about it,” I admit.
Harrison laughs. “You and a million other people. If you’re curious, we can move you over to the bar. I’m going to be going through the three bourbons we’re launching. You can have a flight and my personal recommendation for an appetizer for each.”
“I would love that.” I look over at Christopher. “What do you think?” It occurs to me that maybe he wants a quiet dinner, not hanging out at the bar.
“It’s whatever you want,” he says. “Let’s head to the bar.”
“Jessica, I’ll move them over. Tell Brittany she can reseat your table,” Harrison tells our server.
“Got it, boss.”
We both stand up. It’s then that I see among several people seated at the bar, Tucker Hasting’s unmistakable frame is down toward the end. My heart threatens to skip a beat. Is Finley with him? But there is a man next to him. No sign of Finley.
I glance over at my boyfriend. He, too, has noticed. He shakes his head, indicating he doesn’t see Finley either.
I do see her brother, though.
Considering Ford thinks I cheated on Finley with Christopher, this is potentially awkward. As Harrison points to two empty stools and goes around the bar, Ford has spotted us and his eyebrows raise. He fixes a polite smile on his face.
“How’s it going?”
“Harrison suggested we sit here to get the best tasting experience,” Christopher says.
He squeezes my knee in reassurance and solidarity.
